Shameless(86)

My dad points to the couch. “Siéntate.” He sighs. “Explain everything. Like why you didn’t come home this summer and why the senator’s boy has been calling us.”

“Dad, you might want to sit too.” Because it’s gonna be a long night.



To their credit, they don’t interrupt me, even when I tell them Eric got me pregnant.

Anyway, they must have suspected I was hiding something major to not come home all this time.

At hearing this news, my mom cries quietly while my father clenches his jaw and rubs her shoulder.

I explain how the * finally came around. Two weeks later. And by that time I realized he wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to have a child with. Someone who cuts and runs at the first sign of trouble. And then I tell them I was with Mel when I miscarried a few weeks later.

“Mija,” my father chokes out, “I wish you had told us something. I never would’ve talked to that lowlife if you had.”

My lower lip quivers. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

He laughs and shakes his head before he pulls me into another hug. “How could that even be possible? My girl is the first person in the family to graduate from college. And from a damn good school. You worked for a senator. How could I be disappointed in you?”

I mumble into his shoulder. “I just feel like you guys had all your hopes pinned on me. You worked so hard to get me those opportunities. To get me to a place where I could get a job like that.” Leaning back, I sniffle. “All those times you didn’t get things you needed because I needed school books. Or how the electricity would get turned off but you’d still fill my meal card with money.”

Seriously, my parents are amazing. I don’t even bring up the years they spent as migrant farmers because I'll bawl.

He pats my back. “How did you know about the electricity?”

“Tori would call me.”

“Traitor!” she screams from the other room.

My dad chuckles at my eavesdropping little sister.

But the words I’ve used to describe my ex linger in my mind. Someone who cuts and runs. And my stomach drops. Is that what I just did to Brady?

I back away from my dad, misery seeping into my bones.

My dad must notice my expression. “Did you get the flowers we sent for the funerals?”

I nod, not wanting to think about that day.

“We felt real bad about Mel and her husband.” His voice is thick. “She was always such a good girl. Always treated everyone real good.”

“I know, Daddy.”

He’s silent for a while, and then he sighs. “?Y el otro? El hermano del Cal. Tell me about him.”

A sad smile lifts my lips. That’s easy. There’s so much to say about Brady.

I tell my dad how wonderful he is. How hard he works on the farm to provide for his niece and parents. How well he took care of me when he arrived. How much he loves his niece.

“But I’m worried that maybe I gave up on him too soon.” I clench my jaw to control the emotion that wells up in me. “I was scared. I didn’t want to be left behind when he moves back East.” The silence lingers between us. Finally, I whisper, “Because I love him. And shouldn’t I put my money where my mouth is and fight for what I love?”

My dad grabs my hand and pulls me into another hug, not saying anything for a while. At last he sighs. “I’m glad you came home, mija. You deserve someone who will fight for you.”





57





Brady





Izzy cried all afternoon and half the night. Hell, I felt emotional too. I could barely grumble Merry Christmas to my parents when they called a few hours ago.

The truth is, nothing is the same without Katherine.

Her scent is everywhere. On my clothes. On the sheets. In the house. I can’t escape her. God, I don’t even want to.

Breaking up, or whatever we just did, f*cking sucks. And it sucks even worse when it happens during the holidays.

Because here I am sitting on the floor next to the Christmas tree she decorated, lamenting my life like an *, staring at this beautiful gift she left me. And I’m only talking about the box and the wrapping paper. Because of course Kat went all out and had it wrapped in some expensive red paper and a huge gold bow.

And it makes me feel worse.

Izzy whimpers in my arms. She fell asleep a little while ago after another crying fit. I lean back against the couch and pat her back. Her little face is still flushed.

“This sucks, Iz,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m f*cking up everything.”

Really, I want to drown at the bottom of the bottle of bourbon I have stashed in the office, but I can’t exactly go on a bender with a baby in my arms. Plus, it’ll probably only remind me of the last time I drank—with Kat.

I stare at the tree until the sun starts to set. When my arms go numb from holding Izzy, I drag myself off the floor and tuck her in bed. Her sleep schedule is totally off. Kat would tell me to keep her up right now so the baby can sleep later.

Kat. Kat. Kat.

I’m going insane.

Fuck it.

I stalk to the living room and grab the gift, ready to chuck it into a closet, when a note slips out.

It’s just a folded piece of notebook paper.