“Shit, Gabby. This isn’t what it looks like.”
Ignoring him, I stumble to what I think is the front door, lean against it, and close my eyes.
I want to tell Jason to leave me alone, except I’m afraid I’m going to drop to the floor if I let go of the doorframe.
Then I hear the little cry.
It sounds like a baby.
And that’s when I know I must be losing my mind.
7
RIDER
Bang, bang, bang!
I crack open my eyes, surprised to hear anything with these noise-cancelling headphones on. They really are amazing.
My door rattles with another series of knocks.
“Hold on, fucker. I’m coming.”
My bed is blissfully empty.
I’m starting to wonder if something’s wrong with me. We have a roaring party, and the last thing I’m interested in is getting laid.
Truth be told, watching my friends get shitfaced tonight just made me feel like an old man with my one beer and early bedtime. But no one wins a national championship guzzling booze and staying up all night. The guys on the team know to keep their intake to one or two beers.
After dragging my sore ass out of bed and pulling on some sweatpants, I yank open the door. “This better be good.”
Michael Oliver, who we call Olly, holds up his hands. “We got a problem, chief.”
I scrub my face with both palms. “Is the house on fire? Did a tornado blow through? Is there a plague of locusts raining down on our yard?”
He cringes. “No, but it’s pretty bad.”
Fuck. “Please tell me nobody was dumb enough to jump in the pool.”
I’d insisted we cover it before anyone came over. The guys had wanted a “small get-together.” And after kicking ass today for a major win, how could I veto? They said they’d keep it to a dull roar.
But I wasn’t really taking into consideration that it was Halloween, and half the school showed up with kegs.
Olly makes a face. “I wouldn’t get in the hot tub anytime soon after what I saw go down there tonight, but no, there are no water emergencies.”
Thank God for small mercies.
I check the clock by the bed. Ten after four. Damn, I need to get up in a few hours. “What’s going on?”
“You really need to see this for yourself.”
Reluctantly, I follow him down the stairs and slowly take in the scene. A few of the guys are sprawled on the couch. Girls in varying state of undress. Solo cups everywhere.
Nothing new, basically. I yawn.
So far, the only thing that’s weird is the music is off. I blink into the brightness.
And the lights are on.
Olly’s eyes widen, and he tilts his head toward the kitchen, where a very pissed Marie Antoinette is chugging juice and… and…
“Is that Gabby?” It’s taking me a hot second to process what I’m seeing because it doesn’t match our typical debauched Saturday night activities. Why is she here? Not that she couldn’t stop by if she wanted, but partying at the Stallion Station isn’t her typical M.O. And… What the hell? “Why is she bouncing a baby?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Olly huffs.
Gabby’s wearing a little white robe that hangs open over her disheveled costume and some fluffy pink slippers, looking cute as hell. Hotter now that she looks freshly fucked.
I freeze.
Did she sleep with that tool Jason?
For a minute, I feel like I might get sick. I have no reason to be jealous about who she dates, but for some reason, the thought of him getting his hands all over her makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
Olly whispers out of the side of his mouth, “I think her boyfriend hooked up with someone else tonight. She totally caught him. Not that he was being very stealthy. She told him off, and he slunk outta here.”
What an idiot. He’s going out with this gorgeous, smart woman, and he tosses it all away for cheap beer and some rando.
You broke things off with her. If he’s an idiot, what does that make you?
I shrug off that uncomfortable thought. “What’s with the baby?”
“Um.” Olly hops up and down on his toes. “You should go check that out.”
For some reason, those words give me chills. What’s that saying? Like someone walked over your grave? Or maybe I’m cold because I’m not wearing a shirt.
Scrubbing one hand over my face again, I sigh and decide to get this over with. I need my beauty sleep.
“Gabby. What’s going on?”
When she turns toward me, she wobbles, and I grab her shoulders and steady her. She’s pale, but not from makeup, and her eyes are wild.
The hair on my arms stands up, and I can’t figure out if I’m more freaked out by the baby in her arms or the crazy look in her eyes.
The last time I saw her like this, she passed out cold.
Is she upset over that dick?
“Sit.” I ignore the dirty look she gives me and usher her to the table where I pull out a chair. After she sits, I grab the one next to her.
We stare at each other over the head of the baby.
“Wanna tell me why you’re carting a child around our house in the middle of a party? I won’t mention how inappropriate it is to bring it here.”
“It? It?” She blinks. “Has anyone told you lately that you’re an ass? For your information, your excellence, I didn’t bring the baby here.”
Someone chuckles, and I turn and give my roommate Johnny Johnson a dirty look.
That’s really his name. Johnny Johnson. But he likes to go by Johnson because he says it makes women think he has a big dick.
Gabby reaches into her pocket, pulls out a crumpled note, and slams it on the table. “This is for you.” She glances around the kitchen. “Or for one of your miscreant roommates.”
I glance at the paper. “You wrote this?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, I found it in that basket over there.” She points to the corner where a small wicker basket sits. “Along with the baby.”
The baby snuggles closer to the beautiful French aristocrat who’s barking orders at me in my house. I almost smile. Gabby’s a lot bossier than she used to be. I kinda like this take-charge vibe she has going on.
She taps her finger on the paper, and I realize I’m staring at her like a dumbass.
I clear my throat and focus on the note. The paper is smudged but still legible.
This is Poppy, you’re daugter.
What the fuck? It doesn’t matter how many times I read it because it doesn’t make any sense.
I glance around the room. I read the words again. “Whose letter is this?”
For once, everyone’s quiet. My eyes return to the slip of paper I’m gripping.
“Seriously, who’s this for?” Because the only thing jumping out at me right now is the fact there is no name at the top.
Olly shrugs. “Doesn’t say.”
I read the words again.
This is Poppy, you’re daugter. Sory I can’t take care of her anymor. I tried. I really did. She loves her blankie. I’ll call you when I get their.
Whose daughter? Get where? What the fuck is this person talking about?