The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(2)

I shrug. “About two weeks.”

Tyler shakes his head. “You got a fever?”

“Nah, no fever. Just tired and feel like throwing up. I can’t shit, either.” I lay my head down on the couch and yawn.

“You pregnant?”

My eyes snap open in panic. I sit up and look over the couch, leveling Tyler with a look of dread.

“You better go get a test. Then tell me the f*cker you screwed so I can tear his nuts off.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, throwing my head into my hands.

“I got one in the bathroom. Go piss on it. Now!” Tyler points to his bedroom that holds a private bathroom. I tilt my head to the side and squint my eyes.

“Why do you have—”

“This chick I was f*cking thought she was knocked up. I bought the whole damn shelf,” he informs. I roll my eyes. That doesn’t surprise me. Tyler is a player when it comes to girls.

I find the test under the sink and piss on it quickly. Setting it on the counter, I turn, waiting for it to show a plus or negative sign.

“What’s it say?” Tyler mumbles from the other side of the door.

“I can’t look,” I mutter, not sure if he even heard me. I can’t look at it ‘cause I know what it will say. It’ll say I’m pregnant. Pregnant with Eric McCormick’s child.

Tyler pushes into the bathroom. My back is still turned and I’m facing the tub, the test sitting on the sink behind me. I hear him sigh loudly, and with that exhale, my heart literally sinks into the pit of my stomach.

“You’re pregnant.”

“No,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. He grabs me and engulfs me in his arms. I sob ‘cause I’m too young to be a mother. I cry because Eric McCormick would be a shittier dad than I would a mom.

“Shhh. It’s okay. You can do this, Lindsay,” my brother comforts. This is why I love him. Granted, growing up we did the typical brother and sister shenanigans—he’d destroy my Barbies, and I would annoy him and his friends. But we always had each other’s back. My mother left when I was a baby; being a mother just wasn’t her forte, I guess. Our father became a drunk when I was around the age of six and was nonexistent unless he was out of beer, which was when he was at his worst. My presence alone angered him; I think I reminded him of my mother. Tyler stepped in front of my father a few times, when our dad would get rough with me. It granted Tyler a broken arm once.

“Tell me, whose is it?” Tyler pushes me an arm’s length away and searches my face. I bite my bottom lip, tears sliding down my cheeks.

“Eric’s,” I mutter, looking down.

“Fucking seriously, Lindsay?” Tyler knows how much of a hard time Eric gave me in high school.

“What can I say, I like the challenge. Bad boys.” I shrug.

“Goddamn boy is about right!” Tyler hollers. He turns and shoves his hand through his hair angrily before lowering his head. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from the bad boys, Lindsay. They’re nothing but *s who will just hurt you in the end.” I cross my arms as a barrier to protect myself. Seeing Tyler disappointed stings.

“You didn’t use any,” he pauses, still not looking at me, “protection or anything?”

Wow, this is very embarrassing.

“We were really drunk,” I explain. Tyler winces, like I just gave him a mental image.

“Look.” Tyler glances up at me with dark eyes. “Go find that piece of shit, and tell him. Maybe he’ll step up.” Tyler shrugs. I roll my eyes and scoff. “Do it, Lindsay,” Tyler’s voice comes out bitter.

I roll my eyes and grab the pregnancy test off the counter. How do I begin to tell a one-night stand that I’m pregnant?

***

Standing on the porch of Eric’s house, my body trembles with the amount of adrenaline surfing through my veins. Fear wracks my kneecaps, and my fingers clench the pregnancy stick in my hand. Eric lives in the same trailer park I grew up in as a kid, so basically he’s my neighbor. His father built this two-story house at the end of the park and gave it to Eric just recently. Told him to watch over the trailer park while his father and stepmom traveled the world. He’s my landlord, in short.

Sweat cascades down my spine as I lift my fist and knock on the door. It swings open, and I gasp.

“Er-Eric,” I stammer. I can’t seem to speak; the words are lodged in my throat. That night after Eric took my virginity, I passed out and woke up with dried blood streaking down my legs and him gone. He’s given me the cold shoulder since. I figured it was a one-night stand and brushed it off. I was so f*cked-up I could barely remember any of it anyway. Don’t get me wrong, it sucked knowing my first time was a one-night stand and not some love-struck moment you see on TV. But look at where I grew up—shit like that doesn’t happen here.

“What do you want?” he questions, his tone harsh. He leans against the doorframe, one arm resting above his head. He’s not wearing a shirt, and that six-pack I thought he had weeks before is definitely not a six-pack. Gotta love the fairytale effect alcohol can give.

“I need to talk to you,” I reply meekly. I look past him and see a bunch of his buddies eyeing me. Buddies who used to join in with him bullying me in high school. Insecurities shift in my head, and I swallow hard.