Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

One month later . . .

Was there a limit to how much a person could cry and vomit in an hour?

Every time I thought I was done, the nausea and hopelessness surged like there was an infinite well of tears and retching and no matter how long I sat on the diner’s bathroom floor, there was no end.

I flushed the toilet and leaned away from the porcelain bowl, sitting back against the wall as I swiped at my mouth and cheeks.

“Oh my God.”

A fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes. A sob escaped.

I’d had a lot of bad days in my life. More than seemed fair. But I’d always managed to keep going. Keep walking, step by step, knowing that if I just didn’t quit, there’d be better days ahead.

That belief, that blind faith, had been the only thing keeping me afloat on days when I’d felt like I was drowning.

Today, I wasn’t sure how to stand up off the floor. I wasn’t sure how to keep going forward.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to anymore.

It was so hard. Everything was just too hard. And I was tired of fighting. Tired of struggling to just breathe.

Now this?

Now what?

Another sob choked free as I buried my face in my hands, bringing my knees to my chest.

Now what?

“Faye?” Dusty knocked on the door. “You all right, sugar?”

No. No, I wasn’t all right. A hiccup was the only reply I could manage. Considering the door to this bathroom was about as thick as paper, I was sure she’d heard me puking and crying.

“Oh, honey. Are you sick? Come on out so I can give you a hug.”

Dusty’s firm hugs had soothed a lot of my heartaches over the years, but even they wouldn’t be enough, not today. Not for this.

She knocked again. “I’m getting worried, Faye Marie. And I’m about to pick this lock if you don’t say something.”

I choked back another sob. “I-I’m o-okay.”

“Little liar, you are not okay.”

I sniffled, sucking in a sharp inhale that burned my raw throat. “G-give me five.”

“Sure. You’ve also got a visitor but that asshole can wait.”

Which meant Justin was here. I groaned, so loud it made Dusty snicker.

She’d never liked Justin much, but after what he’d done this summer, she loathed him with every bone in her fifty-seven-year-old body.

It took all of my strength to force myself to my feet. Even then I leaned against the wall, letting it hold me steady until the wave of dizziness passed and I found my balance.

When I flipped the lock and opened the bathroom door, Dusty was there, arms wide open.

I fell into her chest, fighting another wash of tears as she ran a hand up and down my spine.

“I hate him for breaking your heart.”

She thought Justin was the reason for these tears? Oh, shit. To be fair, he’d been the cause of plenty. But today, it was something else entirely.

Something I’d tell her after Justin was gone.

“Where is he?” I asked, standing tall and wiping my eyes dry.

Dusty hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “In a booth. He asked for a menu. I told him to drop dead.”

I didn’t have the energy to laugh. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Or I can kick him out.”

“No.” Someday, I’d let her ban Justin from the diner, but not until I was out from living under his roof.

She scowled but didn’t stop me as I made my way from the bathroom through the kitchen.

Mike was at the flattop, flipping pancakes. I hadn’t seen him for a while, but he and Dusty must be on again because he’d been here when I arrived.

A good thing too. I’d been a useless waitress tonight.

I was still lightheaded, probably because I hadn’t eaten anything today and the idea of food made my stomach roil, and when I rounded the prep table, my hip clipped its corner. The pointy steel dug into my flesh, making me wince.

“Ouch,” Mike hissed. “You okay?”

When would people stop asking if I was okay? Clearly, not.

“Fine,” I said past gritted teeth, then walked to the swinging door that separated the dining room from the kitchen.

Justin rose from the vinyl-backed booth as I walked past empty tables. It wasn’t late, not quite seven, but Sunday was our slowest night of the week, and I doubted we’d see another customer before we closed at eight. From the smell of ammonia clinging to the air, Dusty had already started cleaning the tables for closing.

“Hey.” Justin had the audacity to look sorry as he took in my splotchy face and red-rimmed eyes.

Did he think he was the cause of my tears?

Cheating asshole.

“What’s up?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest as I stopped in front of him.

“Nothing. Just thought I could hang out until you were off. Maybe we could go out or something.”

“Out?” Was he serious? He wanted to go out? “Like a date?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Why not?” My head began to throb. Well, throb harder. I didn’t have it in me to deal with Justin. Not tonight. “I’ll see you later. Bye.”

He blew out a long breath, dragging a hand through his shoulder-length brown hair before plucking an elastic band off his wrist to tie it up.

Once upon a time, I’d loved watching him put up his hair into a man bun. It used to be sexy. It used to make me feel like I was special, the woman who saw him in all ways, hair up or down or messy on a pillow.

But then he’d taught me I wasn’t special.

Honestly, it was my fault. Hadn’t Mom told me that for years? You’re not special, Faye.

Silly me for forgetting.

“Please, Faye?” Justin clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Give me another chance.”

“You cheated on me.”

With Alexa.

Maybe if it had been with a faceless stranger from a bar, it would have been easier to swallow. Probably not, but maybe. Except he’d cheated with his best friend. He’d known about my insecurities with their relationship, that I hated how they touched, and proved them accurate.

He’d slept with her this summer while I’d been camping. He’d fucked her in our bed.

His bed now.

When he’d confessed to cheating with Alexa, I’d started sleeping in the other room at his trailer.

I still couldn’t afford to move out, not when I’d spent my deposit savings on four new tires. Not when I’d already paid this month’s rent.

So I was stuck living with my ex-boyfriend in the house where he’d betrayed me and broken my trust. I was trapped with him, pandering to these visits and humoring his attempts to win me back until I was able to leave.

Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it. But I was biding my time until I could escape. I’d endured worse than uncomfortable silence in the kitchen each morning. I’d had plenty of practice hiding in my room thanks to years spent living with my mother.

Now I’d have to expedite my plan, wouldn’t I? Somehow, I’d have to scrape together enough money for a deposit and rent and utilities. My plan had been to live alone, find a cheap studio where I could have some privacy, but was that even an option? Studios were more expensive than simply finding an available room for rent.

But I’d never lived alone before. Not having to share a bathroom or write my name on a gallon of milk seemed like a dream.

Except I couldn’t afford it, could I? Not anymore. I’d have to expand my search for rooms available. I’d get to live with strangers for a while.

Who the hell would want me as a roommate?

Who’d want to live with a poor, pregnant waitress whose life was imploding?

My insides knotted, and I nearly gave in to the urge to vomit on Justin’s shoes.

“I need to get back to work,” I muttered, not waiting for his reply as I turned and scurried out of the dining room, through the kitchen and right into the bathroom, where I dropped to my knees and dry heaved into the toilet. Again.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Dusty said, coming up behind me to hold my hair because I’d forgotten to lock the door.

“I’m fine.”

She tsked. “I’m about done with your lies tonight, babycakes. You’re not fine.”

“Okay, I’m not fine,” I whispered, shifting away from the toilet. There wasn’t anything left inside to vomit. I was empty. The pit inside my soul, bottomless.

Tears pricked and my nose stung. Empty, yet apparently there was still enough left to cry.

“Faye.” Dusty crouched in front of me, concern filling her blue eyes as her forehead furrowed. She hated to frown because it made her wrinkles look deeper.

Most days, I tried my hardest not to make her worry. Plenty of her silver-gray hairs were my doing.

She worried about me the way a mother worried about her daughter.

And for a solid chunk of my life, I’d wished Dusty would have been my mom.

I wished so much was different.

I wished, down to my weary bones, that I’d never met Rush Ramsey.

But wishing was pointless. Not a single wish of mine had ever come true.

“Sick? Heartsick? Or both?”

This was no flu. “Heartsick.”

“He’s not worth your tears,” Dusty said.

“It’s not that.” My voice was raw and cracked.

“Then what?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m pregnant.”

Dusty gasped like I’d slapped her. Then the shock faded and the sheer devastation on her face was a knife to my heart.

The tears streamed down my face as I watched her heart break.

“Oh, baby. Are you sure?”

“There are two tests in the garbage can if you want to triple check.” I’d grabbed them on my way to the diner today. I hadn’t been feeling well all week. My boobs hurt and my period was late.

The sinking feeling that I might be pregnant had finally gotten so deep that it couldn’t be ignored.

“Oh, God.” This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Except it was. Without a doubt.

This time when I cried, I didn’t bother trying to hide or muffle the noise. I cried as Dusty pulled me into her arms, rocking me back and forth as I soaked the shoulder of her teal Dolly’s Diner T-shirt.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured.

“Now who’s the liar?”

She hugged me so tight it made my ribs ache. “It will. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Dusty let me go, taking my face in her weathered hands. “We’ll figure it out.”

I gave her a sad smile as she brushed the tears from my cheeks. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yep.”

My nose scrunched. “Ouch.”

“I’m not gentle, you know this.”

I forced air into my lungs, holding it as I reined in the tears. Then I exhaled as Dusty let me go to sit in the space on the floor beside me.

She stretched her jean-clad legs out long as I rested my head against her bony shoulder. The smell of her perfume covered up the scent of smoke from her latest cigarette break.

I hated how cigarettes smelled. How the secondhand smoke would cling to my clothes and hair. As a kid, I’d earned more than one sneer from someone at school because I’d smelled. But over the years, Dusty’s scent had become a comfort, smoke and all.

I closed my eyes, drawing it in as we sat in silence, letting the reality of this situation hover like fog in this tiny bathroom.

“When will you tell Justin?” she asked.

“Who cares? It’s not his.”

Dusty’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Remember Hannah’s bachelorette party? I bumped into a guy from school.” Not that I’d known him from school, but I hadn’t told Dusty about the flat-tire incident.

No one knew how I’d met Rush.

“We had a lot to drink that night,” I admitted. “He was sweet and made me feel wanted and he was such a good kisser.”

“A good kiss is no reason not to use a condom,” she scolded.

I cringed. “I know.”

“What happened to your birth control?” she asked.

More tears blurred my vision. God, I was so sick of the tears, and I wiped at them with angry strokes. “It didn’t work.”

That shot I’d been getting for years had failed me completely.

Yes, we should have used a condom too, just to be safe. But I’d lost my freaking mind the moment Rush had kissed me. I’d never felt that way before, and I’d gotten swept up in the feel of his hands and mouth and body.

The alcohol was most definitely partly to blame. It had made me forget that we were from two different worlds. It had given me the courage to flirt and say yes when he’d invited me home.

When reality had slapped me in the face late that night, I’d snuck out of his bed, head pounding from the shots, and tiptoed out of his house before it got awkward. Then I’d spent money I didn’t have on an Uber home.

It hadn’t even occurred to me to use extra protection. The drunken haze, the Rush haze, had chased away all logic. I’d wanted to feel him, only him. All of him.

His hands. His tongue. His limbs tangled with mine. The strength of his arms when he’d held me like I was precious.

No one, ever, had made me feel precious.

Not Justin. Not my mother. Not even Dusty.

She loved me, but like she always said, she wasn’t gentle.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered.

“You’ve got options,” Dusty said.

Two. I had exactly two options. Give this baby up for adoption. Or become a mother. Those were the only options I’d consider for reasons I hadn’t even told Dusty.

The idea of giving up a child made me want to move to the toilet again.

Which meant I had one option.

Get my shit together because I was about to be a mom.

I buried my face in my hands. “Fuck.”

“Yep.”

I was never going to grad school, was I? Hell, it would be hard enough to finish undergrad. To afford to finish this year. Was I going to have to drop out? That possibility made me want to scream.

There was no way I could afford rent and food and tuition and a baby. I was already drowning, living from one paycheck to the next, pinching every penny until it was pressed so flat it was like those souvenir machines that turned your coin into a pressed keepsake.

My heart hurt so badly I pressed a hand to my sternum as it cracked into pieces.

How many years had I fooled myself into believing I could be more than a waitress making minimum wage? I’d sacrificed so much to get this far. To get to my senior year.

My credits wouldn’t go anywhere, but with every passing second, my dreams slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.

How many single mothers could balance school and work and childcare? I’d watched my own mother struggle for years. I’d lived with her resentment, her hostility that I’d come along and ruined her life.

“I won’t be like my mom,” I said.

“No, sugar.” Dusty slipped her arm around my shoulders. “No, you won’t.”

Maybe I’d be poor for the rest of my life, but I’d move every mountain surrounding Mission to make sure this baby never felt the animosity and bitterness I’d lived with for so long.

“Okay.” I inhaled, holding the air in my lungs until it burned.

Okay.

There were choices to make, paths to choose. But they could wait. First, I had to find the strength to stand up off this bathroom floor. Then, I had to tell Rush.

“I don’t know how to tell him. Rush.”

“His name is Rush? Is that a real name?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Dusty hummed. “Do you at least have his number?”

“Yep.” I groaned, shifting to dig my phone from my pocket.

We’d been on the third or fourth bar after Legends when we’d drunkenly exchanged numbers. He’d given me his so I could call him if I ever needed a tire changed. And I’d given him my number in case he ever wanted to borrow my bear spray.

“How do I do this?”

Dusty shrugged. “Fess up. The sooner the better.”

My stomach churned as I unlocked the screen. “Do it for me?”

I’d meant it as a joke, expecting her to laugh, but she plucked the phone from my grip and shot to her feet before I could steal it back. “Dusty, I was kidding.”

Her fingers flew across the screen.

“You can’t text⁠—”

“Sent.”

My eyes bugged out as I scrambled to my feet. “You didn’t.”

“You asked me to do it for you.”

“I didn’t think you’d do it.” I swept the phone from her grip to read what she’d written.

There was a single message to Rush.

A single, devastating text.

I’m pregnant

“Oh my God.”

No hello. No could we talk? No call me.

Nope.

I’m pregnant

My knees wobbled as I shuffled toward the toilet, the nausea returning with a vengeance. “Dusty.”

She shrugged. “I’m not gentle, you know this.”

Yes. Yes, I did.

Shit.