The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance) Page 7

  “Maybe you should try to get some rest,” he says. “All that stuff will still be here when you wake up. Maybe after some good sleep, you’ll be able to think clearer and make some decisions about who to tell and what you want to do.”

  “I really wish I could talk to Mason,” I say. “He’s not answering my calls.”

  “It might be better to wait until you know what you’re going to say to him, anyway.”

  I shrug. “I just want to know he doesn’t hate me.”

  “He doesn’t,” Preston says. “I promise.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because we all make mistakes. And because true friends are going to stick by you even when you seriously fuck up,” he says. “Mason’s been in your life too long and he cares about you too much to turn his back on you over this. You should have seen him out there after your accident. When you drove off, he rushed inside and yelled for help. We heard the tires squeal and all hopped in the back of Knox’s truck to come find you. He wasn’t mad, Penny. He was terrified.”

  My eyes widen. So I hadn’t dreamed it. “He was there?”

  “Yes. He might just be taking some time to work it out in his head. Maybe he thinks you need some space. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll stay out here and watch TV just in case you need anything.”

  I nod slowly and yawn, suddenly so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

  I stand and wrap my arms around him. “Thank you,” I say. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “You’ll never have to find out,” he says. “I love you sis.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I disappear into my bedroom, but keep the door cracked. Just knowing Preston’s there watching out for me helps. When I lay down, all I can do is toss and turn for a while, my mind spinning with questions and fears. Eventually, I fall asleep and dream of what it will be like to hold a tiny baby in my arms.

  Chapter Eighteen

  That evening, I emerge from my bedroom to find Preston sitting on the couch in my living room watching baseball.

  My hair is wild from tossing and turning and my jaw is throbbing. There are bandages covering the worst of the cuts on my face and hands and knees. I walk over to the table to find the extra gauze and bandages we picked up on the way home.

  “Hey sleepyhead,” Preston says. “Did you get some good rest?”

  “A little,” I say. “I didn’t want to get out of bed, but I desperately need a shower. I stink.”

  “I thought I smelled something,” he says.

  I throw a box of gauze at his head, but he catches it instead.

  “Lucky catch,” I say.

  “It’s the skills,” he says, laughing. He turns around on the couch to look at me. “They didn’t want to wake you up, but Mom and Dad want to see you downstairs as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to feel up to that conversation,” I say, groaning.

  “You should just get it over with,” he says. “You’ll feel better once it’s done and they’ve said whatever it is they need to say.”

  “I can’t tell them about the baby,” I say. “Not yet. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m going to get in the shower and get dressed,” I say. “I’ll be out in a little while.”

  He nods and goes back to the Braves game.

  I linger in the shower longer than I should, but the hot water feels so good. I let it wash the dried blood from my scratches and the dirt from my legs and hands and hair. When I come out, I feel like a new person. Naked, I stand in front of the large mirror in my closet and place my hand against my tummy. I turn sideways and try to imagine what it will look like when I start to grow bigger.

  I’ve always been a baby freak. I’m always the first person to show up at baby showers. Usually with the biggest, most extravagant gift. Any time one of my cousins or someone else in our family has a baby, I make a beeline straight to them, begging to hold the little one. I love babies so much, and have always wanted to be a mom. I just never thought this would be the way it would happen.

  But here, all alone in my own space, with no one watching or judging, I gently rub my hand across my stomach.

  And I smile.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I feel stronger when I walk downstairs to face my parents. Like no matter what they say to me, I know I have something of my own now. Someone I need to be strong for.

  Still, stronger doesn’t mean I’m not also a little bit sick to my stomach.

  I hate disappointing my parents. I hate it when they’re mad at me. They get that look in their eyes that makes me feel like I’ve just ruined their lives or something. Like I am personally responsible for their happiness and instead, all I’ve done is make them sad.

  I’ve gotten plenty of lectures before, but I’ve never done anything that has remotely compared to the complete fuck-up of last night.

  I’m relieved to see Preston sitting on the piano bench in the great room. Dad is sitting next to Mom on the couch, so I sit down on the chair closest to the piano. I don’t know what to say, so I keep my mouth shut and pray this doesn’t last long. I’m incredibly tired, which I’m guessing is a side-effect of the pregnancy. I could literally lay my head down on a rock and fall asleep right now.

  The tension in the room is thick and sharp and uncomfortable.

  I fidget, waiting for someone to say something.

  Finally, Dad lifts his head. He waits for me to meet his eyes. When I do, the anger and disappointment I see in them makes me feel like I’m wearing a fifty pound cloak of shame around my shoulders.

  “I cannot even begin to tell you how angry I am right now,” he says. His voice is calm and even. Controlled and very deliberate. “Your actions have not only put lives in danger, but they’ve also put our entire family name in the toilet. A drunk driving accident isn’t something that can easily be swept under the rug. There are police reports, insurance claims, hospital records. Several documented reports as to what happened last night, which means your mother and I are both having to call in personal favors to try to get this taken care of so you don’t have to sit in jail.”

  My head snaps up at the word. I definitely can’t afford to go to jail right now.

  “You’re lucky you’re not losing your drivers license all together,” he says. “I managed to get any charges dropped, but believe me when I say that if anything like this ever happens again, you’re one hundred percent on your own. Drunk driving is completely unacceptable, Penny. I’m so ashamed of you.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip.

  “I’m not even sure how you got the keys to Mason’s car, but you better believe I’m going to be questioning him intensely about why he gave you access to his car when you were obviously under the influence,” he says.

  I sit up. “Wait, it wasn’t Mason’s—”

  He holds up his hand. “Don’t speak. Now is when you listen.”

  I collapse back against the chair, my toes tapping against the hardwoods. He can’t possibly blame Mason for this. If he accuses him of being in any way responsible, he’s only going to make things worse for me. Dammit. I should have a right to talk, here. I understand them wanting to say their peace, but I’m not going to let him make it worse.

  “I’m also having Knox’s bar shut down pending an investigation into over-serving,” he says.

  I shoot up. “No! You can’t do that, it wasn’t Knox’s fault.”

  My father stands up, too. He towers over me. “I will do what’s necessary to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

  “If you want to yell at me, go ahead. Rake me over the coals, tell me I’m an idiot, whatever. But don’t drag my friends into this and ruin their lives over my mistake,” I say. “Knox did nothing wrong. I had been drinking before I even got to his bar. Besides, he had already closed up for the evening. It was a private party. As far as Knox knew, I was there with Braxton. I didn’t
even have my car there.”

  I realize I have no idea what happened to Braxton last night. I assume he just headed home after I left the bar, but I hadn’t even thought of him until now. I’m sure after the way I acted, he’ll never want to talk to me again anyway.

  “And as for Mason’s car, I stole it,” I say. “I got angry, grabbed his keys and took off. He tried to stop me, but didn’t get to me fast enough. You can’t blame him for that. It’s not like he handed the keys to me. I took them out of his pocket. It was my mistake. My fault. No one else.”

  My father clenches his jaw, the muscles in his cheeks tensing. “What were you thinking?”

  “Obviously I wasn’t thinking,” I say, sitting back down in my chair.

  “Obviously,” my mother says. “It’s things like this that could ruin your life forever. If you had hit someone else, you could have been charged with a serious crime, Penelope. This is no laughing matter.”

  “I’m not laughing,” I swallow a lump in my throat.

  “Neither are we,” Dad says. “We have given you everything you could have ever wanted in life. Every opportunity to make the most of yourself. When you make stupid decisions like getting behind the wheel of a car and speeding through downtown, it’s like saying you don’t care if you throw it all away. How do you think that makes us feel?”

  I don’t answer. It’s not the kind of question that really needs an answer.

  “You looked so beautiful and mature last night,” Mom says. “When you walked out of this house with that handsome young man, I had this vision of you as a young wife starting out in life. Someone with real dreams and goals and a great future ahead.”

  She’s laying the guilt on thick, and it’s working.

  “I feel like you just took those dreams and stomped on them.” She’s crying now. “You’ve broken us, Penny. The trust between us has been broken, and it’s going to take a long time to heal this. You’re an adult, so you’re free to make your own decisions, but if you want to start building back our trust, there are going to have to be some consequences.”

  “For the time being, you’ll no longer have access to your car,” Dad says. “If you want to go somewhere, you’ll need to get a ride with your brother or with one of us.”

  I lean back against the seat. We’ve made it to the punishment phase of the lecture. I relax because I know this whole thing is almost over. I’ll take my punishment and move on. I’m twenty-one years old, so there’s not much they can do to me that will make life too hard. I can live without a car for a little while if I have to.

  “No more parties. No throwing them or going to them,” he says. “You’re not to step foot in Knox’s bar or any bar for the next six months.”

  I don’t protest. There will be no parties or drinking for me in the coming months, anyway.

  Still, I’m caught in a very tricky situation here. I’m old enough to do what I want, but I still live in my parents’ house. I drive a car they paid for. I rely on them for a lot of things, including money. I’ve never had a job and I know I would never be able to do what Leigh Anne did. I couldn’t work as a waitress on my feet all day. Especially not pregnant.

  “We’ve also decided to cut your spending down to a small allowance,” he says.

  I look up. I clutch my hands together so tight, they’ turn white.

  “You’re cutting me off?”

  “Not exactly,” Mom says. “The trust fund from your grandparents has been frozen and we’re putting you on a strict budget.”

  Anger flashes through me. Are they really going to do this to me?

  Baby Isaac immediately flashes into my mind. I am supposed to bring five thousand dollars to the hospital tomorrow to pay for his surgery.

  My heart tightens in my chest.

  “How strict?”

  “We’ve arranged a prepaid card for you that we’ll load one hundred dollars on each week,” she says.

  My eyes widen and my jaw drops. Some days, I spend more than that on lunch. I wasn’t expecting them to cut it down so much. This isnever going to be enough.“A hundred dollars? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Watch your language.” Dad’s voice booms through the great room. “If we wanted to, we could kick you out of the house without a cent to your name. We could have let them put you in jail for a few days until a judge could officially charge you with drunk driving. Trust me, there are a lot worse things that could happen for you here.”

  “How long?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of me. “How long am I going to be on this budget?”

  “Six months,” Dad says. “Every expense will need to be accounted for. We’ll also pay for your books and tuition once school starts back, of course.”

  Six months is going to be too late. I drop my head into my hands. This can’t be happening. I promised that family I would help them save their son. If he dies, it will be all my fault.

  I know that if I ask them for the money, they’ll give me the same speech they’ve given me a thousand times. We can’t be personally responsible for every family that falls into tragedy. Our money is better spent going to charities with people who are trained to help families like this. Blah, blah, blah. They’ll only be angry with me for promising the money when it was never really mine to give.

  Guilt washes over me.

  “Seeing your reaction to the idea of a budget just confirms to me that this is the best thing for you right now,” Mom says. “We have tried our best to raise children who weren’t spoiled by money. We wanted to give you every opportunity without making you greedy or entitled. But it’s obvious to me now that somewhere along the way, we made some mistakes with you, Penelope. If money means so much to you that having to go on a budget is the most upsetting part of this ordeal, then maybe you need a lesson on how to go without for a while. Maybe it’s time you learned to be grateful for what you have instead of taking all of this for granted.”

  I bite the inside of my lower lip to keep myself from talking back. She has no idea what she’s saying. Yes, I’ve gotten used to having nice things, but I’m sure I could handle living on a budget for a while. She has no idea why that money is really important to me.

  I’ve got to find another way to get the money for them.

  Not to mention that I’m going to need some way to pay for all the doctor’s visits and baby gear. I’m going to need a new car. My two-door sports car isn’t going to be very baby-seat friendly. By the time this budget is lifted, I’ll only be a few months away from my due date.

  I look over at Preston. Maybe I could convince him to take some money to the hospital for me.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Mom says.

  “What?”

  “I saw that look,” she says. “Preston, you’re going to have to account for your expenses for the next six months as well. You won’t have to live on a budget, but we are going to be checking to make sure you aren’t funneling money to your sister.”

  Preston shakes his head and gives me a sympathetic look.

  I close my eyes and pray for this meeting to be over already. All I can think about as they list off the rest of their conditions is that tiny little baby in the incubator. What if that were my baby who needed help? No, I can’t let this happen.

  I’m going to find a way to help, no matter what it takes.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eventually, I’m going to have to face my friends. Right now, I need them more than ever, but I’ve never been so scared to make a few calls.

  What if everyone thinks I’m a complete loser? What if they don’t want to be around me anymore?

  One of my worst fears in life is that if I ever lost all my money, I’d find out that none of my friendships were real. I’m not sure I’m brave enough to find out. I want to be very careful who finds out about this. I’d be mortified if the whole town was bragging about how Penny’s parents cut her off. Finding out I’m pregnant and alone is going to be bad enough on its own.

  Back up in my room the
following day, I make a mental list of people I feel I can trust enough to help me and not to gossip about this to everyone in town.

  Sadly, the list is very small.

  Leigh Anne is a no-brainer. She might be angry with me over what happened, but she’s not the judgmental type. I just hope Dad never followed through with his threat to have Knox’s bar closed down. That will definitely up the anger factor.

  Summer and Bailey are on the list, too, but every time I try to write down Krystal’s name, I hesitate. Krystal and I have been friends for a very long time, but I have this feeling deep in my gut that she’d turn her back on me in an instant. In fact, I think Krystal might actually be excited if I lost all my money. She’d do her best to try and replace me at the top of the social chain.

  I can’t think of anyone else who belongs on that list. I would have put Mason on it, but since he’s not answering my calls right now, I can’t count on him.

  Besides Leigh Anne and Summer, I haven’t gotten any text messages from friends.

  When I have a party coming up, I have people texting and calling me left and right. I’ll sometimes get three hundred texts in the space of an evening if word gets out that I’m opening up the pool here at the house the next day, but get in a drunk driving accident and only ten messages come through, six of which are from Leigh Anne.

  There’s one from Summer. Surprisingly, there’s also one from Jenna. I wouldn’t have expected to hear from her, but her message was a simple Let me know if you need anything.

  The other two messages are from random people asking if there’s anything going on this weekend. Guess those two are severely out of the loop around here.

  So far, I haven’t responded to any of them.

  I pick my phone up, my palms clammy and my stomach churning. I dial Leigh Anne’s number, letting out a long breath while it rings.

  “Penny?”

  I haven’t even had a chance to say hello yet. Leigh Anne sounds scared.