Somewhere Out There(36)

Brooke shrugged, not looking at Gina, too afraid if she did, she might start to cry. She’d gotten what she wanted—she was going back to Hillcrest—so why did she feel so awful? She bit the inside of her cheek, and tasted pennies.

“She’s never coming back,” Brooke finally whispered. “Is she?” She kept her eyes on the side of the road as she spoke, counting each of the trees as they drove along. Her mother was out there somewhere in the world, living her own life, pretending that Brooke and Natalie didn’t exist.

“No,” Gina said quietly, knowing without having to ask who Brooke meant. “She’s not.”

When Brooke remained silent, Gina spoke again. “It’ll be okay. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, I promise, you’re going to be fine.”

Brooke nodded, knowing that her social worker was just doing her job, telling Brooke what she needed to hear. She knew that adults made promises they couldn’t keep all the time—the kinds of promises that simply never came true.

? ? ?

Just before midnight on the day she’d gone to the clinic and decided to keep the baby, Brooke stood in the hallway of Ryan’s apartment, trying to work up the courage to knock. She’d been distracted all night at the bar, mixing up orders and spilling drinks like a newbie waitress; she ended her shift having earned less than a hundred bucks. She kept playing out different scenarios of the conversation she had to have with Ryan in her head: one where he dropped to his knees and placed an ear against her belly; another where he screamed at her to leave. Not knowing which reaction he’d have was torture. She was so accustomed to keeping her lovers at a distance; she didn’t know how to manage these new feelings—the ache of need she felt in her gut. Suddenly, she wanted Ryan to need her, to want a relationship with her, to be the father of her baby. She wanted him to say, “We’ll take care of this child together.” It reminded her too much of how she had felt growing up, every time Gina took her to meet yet another foster family, wondering if this one would finally be the last. When Brooke would walk through a new house, touching the furniture, the pillows, the pictures on the walls, whispering only to herself, trying out the word “home,” to see if it fit.

And now, there she stood with a bright wedge of hope in her chest, about to tell Ryan the truth. She told herself that how she grew up didn’t matter. She’d have this baby, and then maybe, she and Ryan could build a family all their own.

Just do it, she thought, and finally, she lifted her hand and rapped on the door lightly, three times. She’d never asked for a key to his place, and he had never offered one.

Ryan opened the door and grabbed Brooke, hugging her close. He buried his face in her neck. “I missed you, babe,” he said.

“I missed you, too,” she said, clinging to him. She relished the hard lines of his body, the safety she felt in his embrace. He moved his head so he could kiss her, and she let him, feeling his hands roam up and down her sides, over her ass, cupping her to him. He gave a little groan and scooped her up, carrying her down the hall toward his bedroom. She wanted to stop him—she knew that what she needed to tell him should come first. But still, she let him lay her on the bed and slip off her clothes. She let him kiss her and touch her and take her to the edge. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he entered her.

At least she couldn’t get pregnant, Brooke thought, and then she turned her head, stuffing the heel of her palm in her mouth, resisting a half-hysterical urge to laugh.

It was over quickly, quicker than usual, and when Ryan rolled off of her, they both lay on their backs on his king-size bed, fingers laced together. “God, I needed that,” Ryan said, trying to catch his breath. He moved his hand to rub the curve of her hip. “You okay? You seem quiet.”

She curled to her side and faced him, tucking one bent arm under her face. “Just a lot on my mind,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” he said. His tone was light, which Brooke took to mean that he couldn’t fathom that she, with her small apartment and simple job, could have anything too worrisome with which to deal.

“Yeah,” she said. She swallowed and reached out her free hand to caress the length of his arm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” Ryan said, with more than a hint of wariness. Brooke sat up and leaned against the pillows. With a puzzled, slightly apprehensive look, Ryan did the same. “What’s up?”

Brooke decided that the best option was just to get the truth out as quickly as possible. It was only two words. “I’m pregnant,” she said, staring at the now-wrinkled steel-gray comforter. “I didn’t have the flu. It was morning sickness.”

Ryan was silent, and Brooke made herself look at him. “Ryan?” she said, after a moment. “Can you say something? Please?”

“You’re sure it’s mine?” he asked. He didn’t look at her.

She gasped, and her eyes filled with tears. “Of course it’s yours. Jesus.” She pulled at the comforter, covering her nakedness, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt his eyes on her back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had to ask.”

She whipped her head around and shot him an angry look over her shoulder. “You had to? You think I’ve been sleeping with someone else?” A thought struck her then, and what felt like a hard stone sank inside her belly. “Are you?”