I rev the engine and hope they get the fucking clue and back off so I don’t run them over. One more rev of the engine and the slight movement backwards has them all running off to get in their cars so they can chase me.
Fucking Christ.
Have drama, please fucking follow. If I put stupid-ass bumper stickers on my car, that’s what it would say.
I check for kids and rev the engine once more before I quickly leave the lot. I get clear of the craziness when I lose most of the cars at a red light I fly through on the tail end of a yellow. I finally breathe a sigh of relief, can have a minute of peace humming along to Best of You on the radio, and then I look down at my phone.
And the air I just got back gets fucking sucker punched right out of me. My foot falters on the gas like a fucking rookie driver from the text displayed on the screen.
Sealed envelope sitting on my desk. Results are back. Call me.
My entire body freezes—lungs, heart, throat, everything. I stare straight ahead, my knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, trying to get a grip on the onslaught of emotions burying me alive.
I force myself to breathe, to blink, to think. The minute my head’s commands to my body click, I swerve across the lane causing horns to blare. I pull into the closest driveway I see, a strip mall parking lot, and slam on the brakes.
I pick up my phone to call my lawyer but put it back down as I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get a handle on the nerves suddenly shooting through me. This is it. The answer on the other end of the line is going to be either my biggest fuck up or my greatest relief.
The certainty I felt before that this couldn’t be true, doesn’t feel so fucking certain anymore. I blow out a breath, pound a fist on the console, grab a figurative hold of my balls, and pick up the phone.
Each ring destroys me. It’s like waiting for the chair to be kicked out from beneath my feet with a noose looped harmlessly around my neck.
“Donavan.”
It takes me a minute to respond. “Hey, CJ.” My voice sounds so fucking foreign, like a little kid waiting for his punishment to be decided.
“You ready?”
“Fucking Christ, tell me already, will you?” I bark.
He chuckles as I hear the paper tear. Easy for him to fucking laugh right now when my heart’s hammering, fucking head is pounding, and foot is bouncing on the floorboard. And then I hear CJ exhale.
“You’re good.”
There’s no way I heard him right. “What?”
“She lied. The baby’s not yours.”
I pump my fist out into the air and shout. I squeeze my head in both of my hands as the adrenaline hits me at full force, hands tremble and fucking tears well. I can’t even process a thought. I know CJ is talking but I can’t hear him because my heart is pounding in my ears from the adrenaline hitting me like it does at the start of a race. I raise a hand to run it through my hair but stop midair to pound on the steering wheel before scrubbing at my face because I’m so overwhelmed … so inundated with fucking relief I can’t keep a single thought straight, except for one.
It’s not mine.
I didn’t fuck up a poor soul’s life by tainting it with my blood.
By being born to a manipulative bitch like Tawny.
“You okay, Wood?”
It takes me a minute to swallow and find my voice. “Yeah,” I sigh. “Better than okay. Thanks.”
“I’ll have Chase issue a press release for—”
“I’ll cover that,” I tell him, wanting nothing more to than to feed the vultures a taste of crow and get their fucking obtrusive cameras out of our lives for a bit. Let Rylee adjust to my fucking crazy life while we find our footing.
There I go again. Thinking about finding our fucking footing and the future and shit with her. My fucking kryptonite.
Motherfucker.
And it hits me.
Rylee.
I need to tell her.
“Thanks again, CJ, I gotta call—I gotta go.”
I hang up and immediately start to dial Rylee but my hands are shaking so badly from the adrenaline racing through my blood, I stop for a second.
And then I realize I want to end this once and for all before I talk to Ry. I want to call her with the slate clean so I can tell her this is all behind us. Baby, Tawny, lies—everything is over and fucking done with.
I take a deep breath as I dial the number that used to be so familiar but now just makes my blood boil.
“Colton?” I like the fact she’s surprised, that I’ve caught her off guard.
Time to play ball.
“Tawny.” My voice is flat, unemotional. I don’t say anything else. I want her to squirm. I want her to wonder if I know or not. She’s ballsy enough to lie to my face, let’s see if she’s gonna keep up the fucking charade or lay her cards on the table.
Because fuck if the paternity test isn’t my ace in the hole.
“Hi,” she says so softly that I can’t really figure out if she’s being timid or trying to sound seductive.
Either one has my stomach churning.
I chew my cheek, trying to figure out where I want to go with this conversation because as much as I want to make her suffer, I just want her fucking gone. Sayonara, adios, the whole fucking goodbye. She clears her throat and I know the silence is killing her.
Good.
“Colton,” she says my name again, and I have to bite my tongue, let her suffer. “Did you need something? I—I’m surprised to hear from you …”
“Really? Surprised?” The sarcasm drips from my voice like fucking motor oil. “Now why would that be?”
She starts to stutter out words but none of them get past the first syllable. “Save it Tawn. Just tell me one thing. Why?”
When the fuck did she get like this? When did she go from my college sweetheart to the conniving, manipulative bitch on the other end of the line? What the fuck did I miss?
“Why?” she asks, drawing the word out. We’ve been friends for so long, I can tell she’s fishing. She’s looking for a clue so she can take it and twist it and manipulate it into whatever I’m going to say that suits her best.
And I’m done. The innocent routine ended a long fucking time ago when it comes to her and her goddamn lies. At least I recognize it now. After what she did to Ry? And now tried to do to me?
Batter up, sweetheart.
“Yeah, why?” I bite out. “Because you fucking lied through those perfect white teeth of yours? Used my accident to—”
“Colton I didn’t try to—”
“Shut the fuck up, Tawny! I don’t care about your goddamn pathetic excuses! ” I shout at her because I’m on a roll and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to let it out. Release all of the anger and the fear and the uncertainty that’s ruled my fucking life over the past few weeks. Left me a goddamn disoriented mess just like driving blindly into the smoke after a crash to hope I come out the other side of its oppressive fucking haze. “You didn’t try to what?”
My anger’s eating me raw. I need to move. Need to expel some of it so I shove open the door of the Rover and start pacing back and forth, shoving my free hand through my hair as my feet hit the fucking ground beneath me.
“You didn’t try to use my accident—my fucked up head—as a means to get what you wanted? Tell me I fucked you when I didn’t? Trap me into being the daddy for your illegitimate kid? How fucked up is that? What kind of piece of shit does that, Tawn? Huh? Can you answer me why the woman I used to know—was my friend once upon a fucked up time—had to stoop so damn low that you used a kid to try and get me back?”