I crack the window. It’s far too stuffy in here with us breathing the same air.

“I hate this song,” she says and turns off the radio, leaving us in awkward silence.

Her hand is draped over the steering wheel, her mouth a hard set.

“Who’s the father?” she blurts out.

I lean my head against the window, trying not to get sick. The last thing I want to tell her is who the father is. It won’t take her long to figure out seeing as I have no friends and the only place I ever want to be is next door.

“Is it Deacon?” she finally asks.

As much as I want to, it’s too late to deny it. She’ll find out eventually. I just wanted him to be the first to know.

I nod.

You were supposed to watch his kid. Not make

and he knew too. This wasn’t an accident like when my mom got pregnant with me. I want this. So does Deacon. At least I hope he still does. It’s a little too

back to haunt me. I’d

know about my crush

him whenever he was around—not that you were any different than the other women in the neighborhood. We were all guilty of ogling him.

crushing on the man who is now potentially the father of

how much more I can take of this. My stomach is in knots. Not only because of the morning sickness and my mom and Sam’s judgment, but also because I need to tell Deacon. I just hope he meant what he said about filling me with his seed and watching my

you mad?” I ask. I hate it when my mom is disappointed in

just don’t want you to end up a single mom like me. It’s difficult raising a child

nothing like Dad. He’ll help me raise

He’s an amazing father. Bailey is his pride and joy—oh my god, it just hit me; if I’m pregnant, Bailey and this child are going to be siblings. The thought makes me unreasonably happy even though I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up. There could be a hundred reasons for my pregnancy symptoms. Stress is one of them, and I’ve definitely been going through a lot of that

mom asks.

look down at my hands, braid my

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