“What was that for?” he whined rubbing his head.
“Eres un tonto, hacer una chica honesta de ella,” she told him with a smile. I had no idea what she just said, but he looked perplexed and maybe a little conflicted. Before I could even ask what she’d said in Spanish, the girls launched into a round of questions.
“Javerio?” I asked in a hushed tone while walking out to his truck at the end of the night.
“Don’t. Only family calls me that,” he snapped. His harsh words triggered a pang in my chest and an anger that I needed to keep tightly reined in. He was absolutely right; I wasn’t his family. I wasn’t anybody’s family.
“What did your mom say in Spanish?” I asked referring to the words she’d spoken at dinner; ones I had no hope of understanding.
With a scowl he mumbled, "She told me I was a fool, and I needed to make an honest girl of you." He shook his head in what I was sure was part annoyance and part disgust. I already knew the mere idea of Trip settling down and making an honest girl of anyone was ludicrous, so I bit my tongue and stared out the window.
The drive home was more than a little tense, but as he pulled up to my apartment, I decided I wasn’t going to let him be an asshole or hurt my feelings. I also had this uncontrollable urge to push his buttons and call him on his shit whenever he pulled it, which more often than not, was when he opened his mouth and sound came out.
“You know what? Screw you. I won’t have you treating me like one of your whores.” My assumption that he didn’t want women he slept with knowing his real name, knowing his real self, was dead on the money from the grunt and maddened facial expression I was so nicely graced with.
Jumping down from the truck and starting up the walkway, I stopped short at his gruff voice behind me. “You weren’t ever one of my whores. Never will be, Princess.”
His warm hand on my arm turned me around to see his face; chewing on his lip and looking down at me with his bright blue eyes, he looked unsure. It wasn’t a look I’d seen on him before and the mere idea that Trip, of all people, was unsure of anything stopped my smart reply in its tracks.
“Don’t think you’re anything less that special to me, Teen. Even before this,” he gestured to my stomach, “above all of it. Even if nothing happens with us, we’ll share something pretty damn special.” His hands cupped my face and he laid his lips gently to my forehead leaving a whisper soft kiss. With a long sigh, he turned and jumped into his truck disappearing down the road.
I let myself inside the front door of my shitty apartment locking the deadbolts behind me. The neighborhood wasn’t a great one and was most definitely far from safe.
As if on cue, banging and screaming started up from the apartment next door kicking off the normal building dramas. I really needed to find a bigger and safer place, but with the pathetic shifts I was getting at the run-down bar I worked at, there wasn’t much hope.
After my nightly routine of bath, puke and PJs, I curled up on the sofa with a movie and blanket. I was feeling lonely. I didn’t want anything much, just a little companionship, even somebody to curl up with and hold me. These things didn’t usually bother me, so I simply put it down to hormones and sulked into my pillow. I was used to being alone. I’d lived on my own since I was sixteen years old. I’d never needed anyone before and I promised myself I wouldn’t ever need anybody. I was a big girl. I could do it all on my own. Yeah, and your pride has absolutely nothing to do with it, an annoying voice in the back of my head mocked.
I zoned out before the opening credits even rolled by. Playing the night over in my head, I came up with endless questions and scenarios, all of which just served to cause a twisted knot in my stomach.
While Trip seemed excited and proud, my own self-doubt crept in turning my mind in to a little vortex of what ifs and maybes. I didn't want anyone to have to have me, just because I was pregnant. Then there was Ma and the girls, Milla and Haven. What if Ma thought I did this on purpose? Oh no! Maybe that’s what she said in Spanish? I don’t speak Spanish. Shit, what did she say? Trip hadn’t looked upset when she’d said it, so it couldn’t have been too bad, but there was confusion there. Maybe I was over reacting? Probably, but I just couldn’t get a grip on all of the self-doubt. Useless tears welled up in my eyes for no reason other than because they could. This pregnancy crap was driving me nuts. I’d never had so many emotions run through me in the span of five minutes. When I wasn’t being a nasty, bitchy little brat, I was crying over nothing. Even some stupid commercial about assholes that kicked puppies was enough to have me hysterically bawling my eyes out.
Where the hell had my sass gone? Sniffling, I wiped the tears away as they slowly trickled down my cheeks and I shuffled to the kitchen. My food cravings were already out of control. Chocolate ice cream and pickles. Yeah it was gross, but I wanted it so I had to have it. I opened the near-empty fridge in search for my precious pickles, only to find three jars completely empty, apart from a little juice in the bottoms. “No!” I cried. “No, no, no, no!” I reached into the freezer feeling around in the hopes there might be a tub of ice cream that would magically pop up, but again, nothing. “Why me?” I burst into tears, again. My chest heaving, I sat on the cold, battered-up linoleum floor for a good ten minutes wailing like a kid whose pet bunny had just died. I knew exactly how unreasonable my tears were, but at that point, it was completely out of my control. I crawled over to the coffee table and snagged my phone. Shit, it was late; Scarlett would be asleep; besides, I wasn’t in the habit of bothering her and Mace. This left me with one option. Trip. Looking between the kitchen and my phone, I weighed my options. Did I dare call him? Were pickles and ice cream really that important? Yes, yes they were.
Chapter Five
Trip
My cell vibrating on my chest woke me from a near perfect dream of Teeny riding me and screaming my name. My dick was hard as nails and I swear I was about ten seconds from making it a wet dream to remember.
“Shit,” I mumbled fumbling around as I came back to my senses. Without checking the screen, I hit the button and pulled the phone up to my ear.