This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2) (11 page)

“I’m hungry,” I tell him. “We passed a diner earlier on the way to see Mom’s gravesite. Can we stop there and get some dinner on the way back?”

He snaps his head over to me and his eyes are wild with anxiety, sending my heart galloping right out the window. “No. We’ll hit a drive-thru on the way back.”

His head jerks back to the road and I glare at him. Whatever is going on inside his head is really starting to piss me off. “I don’t want to go to a drive-thru. I’m not necessarily eager to get back to the cabin. I need some more time away. Why are you in such a hurry to get back anyway?”

He shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference, but he’s too stiff to pull it off. His lies are so easy to read. “I’m tired. We’re not going to the diner. McDonald’s or Taco Bell?”

“Brandon,” I snap, “what is wrong with you? I just told you I don’t want to go back right now. Why can’t you respect that? Don’t you even understand what kind of shit I’ve been through? That cabin is the last place I want to be right now. I want to go to the diner!” My voice is shrill and I’m seconds away from clobbering him for being an asshole.

His hand swings my way, causing me to flinch, and he points his finger at me. “We’re not going to the goddamned diner, Baylee!” he hisses, his eyes wild with fury. “Now get over it.”

I gape at him in shock.

There’s no way in hell I’m getting over it.

“Stop the truck,” I seethe and gather my purse in my lap.

He cuts his eyes back over to me and panic flashes over his features. “What? Why?”

“Stop the stupid truck!” I shriek. “I’m over it! I’m over how weird you’re acting and your constant lies. I can’t take it anymore! STOP THE TRUCK!”

The tires screech as he slams on the brake and pulls the vehicle over to the shoulder. As soon as it stops, I climb out and begin storming toward town. I can hear his heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me as he follows me.

“Baylee, stop. Please,” he begs. The crack in his voice makes my heart ache but I ignore it and continue stomping away.

“Baylee!” His voice is sharp and his fingers bite into my bicep as he physically stops me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Whirling around in his grip, I stand on my toes and glare at him. “What the fuck is wrong with
me
?” I demand in a high-pitched voice. “What the fuck is wrong with
you
? Tell me what’s going on, Brandon. I know you’re lying to me too, just like everyone else. So just stop it. Fucking stop it. You were the one person I had left to count on to give me the truth and you’re evading me at every turn. I can’t lose you as that person. I’m out of here. If you’re going to lie to my face, I’m fucking out of here.”

The anger melts from his face as his chin quivers and pain seems to rip apart his features. He lets out a garbled sound and gathers me into his arms. “Baby,” he says in a hoarse whisper against my hair as he strokes my back. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to protect you from the authorities. They think you’re involved in his murder and I couldn’t let them take you away from me. Not again. I can’t lose you now after everything. You’re my girl and I love you. Things may not be the way they were before but I promise you we can fix this. I’m here until the very end for you, Baylee. Please tell me you can see this.”

He’s still babbling and only one word sticks out.

Murder.

Murder.

Murder.

I mean, I knew he was dead,
my War
. But for some reason, I still held onto a shred of hope he’d somehow survived. Deep down in the dark depths of my heart, I wanted to believe he’d lived. Yet he hadn’t. My War was completely over.

“Oh, God,” I sob and collapse in his arms.

He kisses my hair over and over again as he tries to soothe me. I inhale his familiarity and let it bring comfort to me. I’m a shuddering mess and all I can do is clutch onto his T-shirt to keep from hitting the gravel.

“Baylee,” he says in a thick voice, his own tears wetting my hair, “I swear to God I will love you and take care of you. Let me help you remember what we had. Remember our love.”

Love.

Love.

Love.

Another sob rips through me and he holds me tighter. The grief and stress from the past few days overwhelms me, rendering me weak. He seems to sense my breakdown because he slips an arm beneath me and picks me up. I curl up against his chest while he carries me back to the truck. Once he opens the door and sets me on the seat, his red, tearstained eyes are washing over me. His fingers find my chin and he lifts it so our eyes meet.

“I’m sorry for keeping that from you,” he tells me, his brows bunching together. “I’ll take you to the diner. We’ll just be careful.” He reaches under the seat and pulls out his baseball cap. I watch his determined, handsome face as he places it on my head and tucks my hair inside of it. “There, now you’re a boy.”

I try to force a smile but my lip ends up quivering it away.

“Hey,” he says, his green eyes glittering with the playfulness I know, “let’s go get you a strawberry milkshake before you beat my ass with my baseball bat. You get mean when you’re hungry. Hunger is not a pretty look on you.”

This time I do smile and it’s genuine because his own grin is so infectious. Just like old times.

“I’m sorry for flipping out,” I murmur, my voice squeaking a bit as I swipe at my wet cheeks with the back of my hands. “I don’t mean to keep taking it out on you. Thank you for all you’re doing to help me through this.”

He leans in and kisses me softly on the corner of my mouth. “We’re in this together, babe. Until the very end.”

“Will that be all?” the waitress questions, her eyes lingering on Brandon. A familiar, yet ridiculous pang of jealousy, grates at my nerves at her blatant ogling of him.

“No,” I clip out, making sure to keep my face hidden beneath the baseball cap, “I need to order a chicken finger special to-go.”

She scribbles on her note pad and then scurries away. When I lift my eyes to Brandon, he’s frowning.

We’d had a fairly quiet dinner until this point. He’d been looking over his shoulder every five seconds while I tried not to think about my mom’s death or my dad’s disappearance. And especially not what happened to War. Every time I did, my heart would ache and tears would well in my eyes. It was easier just to focus on my greasy fries and milk shake. To distance myself from the all-consuming pain.

“What?”

“Did you order that for,” he spits out the next part as if he’s disgusted, “
him
?”

I lift my chin and nod. “I’m trying to draw information out of him. I know there’s more he’s not telling me about my dad. Maybe if I’m nice he’ll give it to me and then we can go find him.”

He rolls his eyes and curses under his breath as if I’m just a stupid girl who knows nothing. I’m once again irritated by his moody behavior.

“What?” I demand.

Shrugging his shoulders, he stares off into the crowded restaurant. “It’s not going to work, babe. Gabe’s a liar. He’ll manipulate you into letting him go. Then, he’ll hurt you again,” his voice drops to a whisper. “We need to get rid of him.”

I study his features. The clenching jaw. The way his nostrils flare with anger. How his narrowed eyes scrutinize me. I don’t know this man. The boy who hugged me earlier and cried into my hair when he thought I was leaving him, I know him. This guy though, the asshole, I can’t even begin to understand who he is and I certainly don’t like him a bit.

“I don’t want it to be easy on him, believe me. But he needs to pay for what happened to me and what he did to those I love. I want him to think about what he’s done every day in a tiny prison cell for the rest of his life. Once we get what we need from him, we’ll call the police.” My voice is firm and unwavering. I’ve thought a lot about this. Brandon and I are just two young adults. We’re not killers. I won’t let him kill for me and I certainly want to be a good parent to my future child. Murdering someone, even the devil, is a bad start to motherhood.

He scoffs at my words. “The police? We can’t get them involved. We’ve been through this, babe. They think you’re involved in War’s
murder
.” He bares his teeth slightly as the last word rolls off his tongue. It cuts me deep and affects me more than being accused of the one who did it. “Remember?”

Murder.

Murder.

Murder.

The world spins around me and my belly rumbles as my dinner threatens to make a reappearance. I swallow to keep from throwing up and hiss at him. “How could I forget? I was there.
Remember
?” Tossing his word back at him, I meet his glare before I start scooting out of the booth. “I need to go to the ladies room.” Snatching up my purse, I hightail it past the flirtatious waitress and into the bathroom.

Once inside with the door locked, I slip into the stall and open my purse. Tears roll down my cheeks and drip from my face as I hunt for the pregnancy test I’d purchased. On autopilot, I open the test, and follow the instructions in taking it. Once I do, I sit on the restroom floor as I wait for the result. My eyes close and I think about War.

He really is dead.

No denying that now.

It’s been completely confirmed.

As if that weren’t excruciating enough, the police think I was involved, too. I would never hurt him. Ever. Surely I can speak to them—find Land and have him vouch for me. I didn’t kill War and they’ll soon be able to prove that. Gabe will go to prison for his sins. Everything will work out.

I glance down at the test on the floor beside me. I’d splurged on the easiest to read, most expensive test. Brandon sent me in with a wad of cash and I bought the best.

One glimpse at the one grey word on the display screen tells me what I already knew in my heart. Tears blur the bathroom around me and I let loose a flood. My body aches and I cry until I’m hyperventilating.

Pregnant.

This baby has no father.

This baby only has me.

I’m not completely alone in this world.

What if this baby is Gabe’s?

The terrifying thought has me clutching my stomach in absolute disgust. There’s no way. This baby is in no way his. For one, the shot lasts for three months. I’d been given the Depo shot about a month before Gabe took me, which meant it would have worn off while I was with War. I know for a fact I had a normal period not long after coming to stay with him at his beach house.

This is mine and War’s baby. Not Gabe’s. No damn way.

I sob for a good twenty minutes before I find the strength to pull myself back together. This baby needs me now. I’m going to figure it all out for my little one.

On shaky legs, I stand, deposit the test and packaging into the trash, and then wash my hands and face in the sink. Carefully, I take my time smudging on some of the new concealer and base I’d purchased to hide my red, puffy face. Once I look halfway composed, I leave the bathroom.

I crash into a solid, warm chest. Arms wrap around me and I shiver.

“Everything okay?”

No. Everything is not okay.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just tired.”

Satisfied by my answer, he releases me and saunters over to the waitress who’s carrying a takeout bag. Wordlessly, we head back to the truck and make our way back to the cabin.

As soon as Brandon heads for the shower, I carry the food into the kitchen to once again attempt to coax answers from Gabe.

“Who killed your puppy?” he greets as I set the bag on the counter and set to opening his food.

“Enough with the games, Gabe. Tell me where Dad is.”

He watches me with furrowed brows as I bring a chicken strip over to him. His nostrils flare, inhaling the greasy meat, and he groans. I wave it near his mouth but don’t get close enough for him to bite.

“Never took you for a torturer, sweetheart,” he says with a hint of grumpiness in his voice.

“And I never took you for a rapist murderer but here we are.” I break the chicken piece in half and raise a brow at him. “You want food, you talk.”

He frowns. “I don’t know where Tony is.”

I toss one half of the chicken into the hole and revel in the horrified way he stares after it. “Wrong answer.”

“Fucking hell, woman. Just give me the goddamned chicken. I’m starving over here.”