Nine Month Contract, page 28
“Did all three of you...sleep with her?” Trista asks, her voice full of horror.
“Not like that,” I exclaim defensively. “Not at the same fucking time or anything. Jesus Christ, no. And actually, part of the bet meant we had to promise not to sleep with her.”
“So then what happened?”
My cheeks puff out as I blow out a long breath. “One by one, we all broke the promise.”
“Ick,” Trista groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. I hate that I have to tell her this. I hate that this is a part of my past. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it shaped a lot of who I am today.
“The worst part was we all kept it a secret from each other. All three of us hid it, so we never knew what was going on. The only person who knew the truth about all of it was Robyn. And that’s because she had a bet of her own.”
“Triple ick.”
I nod slowly because she was fulfilling her own fantasy at the time, and we were all just falling for her. She was a spitfire, absolutely gorgeous, sassy, yet could be sweet, and hot in bed. And she knew it. Used it. I’m not sure Robyn ever truly cared about any of us.
“We all knew we were getting in too deep. We were sneaking around behind each other’s backs. We were fighting on jobsites pretty regularly. It was bad. My brothers and I didn’t speak for the months while this bet dragged on, and my dad knew something was up, but none of us were talking. It was that game of chicken again, but this time...it wasn’t just flirty banter at the bar.”
“Were you in love with her?” Trista asks, a rare glimpse of vulnerability on her face as she asks the question that I must begrudgingly nod to.
“I didn’t want to fall for her. But we did a weekend away at this cabin of her friends, and I just thought...this is the girl of my dreams. The girl I could marry. No woman had ever affected me the way she did. But it was that same weekend that she told me she loved someone else. And I just knew...my gut told me it was one of my brothers. But no matter how much I asked, she wouldn’t say.”
“Ugh, this is painful,” Trista says, shaking her shoulders. “This woman sounds like the absolute worst. Did she not care that she was likely ripping apart an entire family?”
“I guess not. But it was just as much our fault as hers. We were horrible to each other. Max wouldn’t even let us see Everly until we got our shit together. I even considered selling the mountain because I couldn’t stand it up here with them.”
“Holy shit,” Trista says, seeming even more shocked by that reveal than all the rest of the stuff. “This is all just so hard to wrap my head around because you’re all so close now.”
“It took some time and serious effort to get to where we are. We do an annual bonding thing every year to keep it that way. And I hate that I still struggle to trust my brothers, but I need you to know it has nothing to do with you...it’s them. And it’s her. And it’s why I don’t date. Trusting women in a romantic sense is just impossible for me.”
Trista watches me for a long, quiet moment, and her voice is soft when she asks, “Is she the one who got away?”
“That’s a hard question for me to answer,” I reply with a cringe. “Usually ‘the one who got away’ is portrayed in films as these beautiful, heroic characters that a person loves until the end of time. Robyn is a very different situation. For me... Robyn is just pain.”
I exhale heavily at that admission. In fairness, I’m not sure Robyn set out to hurt me. I think she was in such a dark place in her life that the attention of the three of us felt like a stimulant to feel better about herself.
I was plagued with self-doubt and self-hatred, but even though it was wrong, having all three of you want me did wonders for my nonexistent self-esteem. You and your brothers...healed me.
Not the sort of thing you want to read in a letter from the woman you thought you loved.
“Do you still talk to her?” Trista asks, and I see a wave of nerves pass over her eyes.
I shake my head. “Not really. She’s called a few times throughout the years and showed up unannounced once. But Calder put goat shit in the back seat of her car, so I think she got the hint that she’s not welcome up here.”
The corner of Trista’s mouth quirks up into a smirk as she drags her hand down my arm. “You sound like a country song. Brokenhearted mountain man living alone with his goat thinking about the one who got away.”
I scoff, “Sounds like a terrible song. And I’m fine now. I’m not pining for her. It just took me a while to realize that I can still have a family without a wife. I mean, not physically, obviously. That’s why I need you. But emotionally, financially, I can do this. I can be a good dad on my own. I don’t need a partnership to have this.”
The words feel harder to get out after revisiting old wounds. The memories of the torment the three of us went through are not something I like to think about. So much mistrust and hair-trigger reactions. An acute sense of betrayal from my closest friends. My brothers. It was awful. I loathed the sight of Calder and the ease with which he walked through life during all that. I hated watching Luke’s confidence grow with Robyn’s attention. It was sick how I let a woman draw me in so much I began to resent my own blood. Thinking about it shrouds me in shame. I’m the oldest of us three. I should have known better.
But time has healed our wounds. We’re solid again like we were when we first moved onto the mountain. And our Dark Night tradition keeps us all in check. That’s why I’ve chosen to never let another woman near my heart again. Yes, my parents had had an incredible marriage. And watching Max become sickeningly happy with Cozy and have another kid has been inspiring. But it’s just not worth the risk of putting myself through that kind of stress again.
If all I have in life is this mountain, my brothers, and hopefully a child...then I will want for nothing.
Trista’s hands move to her belly, a thing she doesn’t do very often. My eyes shoot to hers. “Are you feeling the baby move?” I ask, hope laced in my voice. The doctor said it could take up to twenty-four weeks before she feels anything, but a lot of the books I’ve been reading say she could be feeling stuff by now.
She shakes her head sadly. “No. Still nothing. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I soothe and splay my hand on her hip, my fingers itching to touch her stomach, to feel the rounded swelling that’s starting to show, even if she refuses to admit it. But I stop myself, knowing it could make her feel weird. It’s one thing to touch her in the middle of sex. She seems pretty open to any sort of touching and talking when it comes to all things sexual.
But touching her belly for the purpose of feeling the baby...watching my hand on her flesh as I caress her and having her watch me as I do it...that’s a different experience. One I’m not sure she wants to have with me. Nor should I want to have with her.
I scrub my hand over my face, my own exhaustion setting in. “We have the big ultrasound next week, so I’ll get to see plenty of the little taco then.”
“Taco?” Trista laughs and rolls over, pressing her ass into my hip. “Is that the food comparison size for next week?”
“No...taco is this week,” I answer, twisting back into the spooning position and letting my hand splay casually on her stomach, my fingers trembling nervously. “Next week, it’s a can of cola.”
“Definitely bigger than a goat turd,” Trista murmurs around a yawn.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.”
I smile softly and let my eyes close as the smell of roses on her pillow envelops me like a warm cloud. I should go. I should get out of here and let her sleep. But I’m too tired to get up. I’m emotionally spent from revisiting a time in my life I try to forget. It makes me feel sick and regretful and ashamed.
But lucky number thirteen in my arms? In her bed? It feels like redemption.
Chapter 36
Weeks Pregnant: 20
Animals on the Mountain: 9
Trista
“How hard is it not to look at that envelope?” I ask Wyatt as he pulls out of the hospital parking lot after finishing our big twenty-week appointment.
He shrugs and shoots me a look like he’s as cool as a cucumber.
He’s not.
I saw his hand trembling when the nurse gave him the sealed envelope with the gender written inside. I saw his face while the ultrasound tech printed out 4D pictures showing the baby’s chubby little cheeks and button nose. I saw his eyes when he looked at them like they were the most incredible things he’d ever seen.
How did I feel about the scan?
I’m a cow.
But the way he looks right now with the window down and the setting sun slicing through his disheveled hair, his muscular forearms on full display as he drives the car in that tight white T-shirt...
It’s a good look.
He’s giving me lots of good looks lately.
Like how he looked when he woke up in my bed the other morning, still fully dressed from the night before. He just pressed a kiss to my temple and said he was going to make me breakfast, and that’s what he did. He made eggs and toast in my kitchen, set it on my nightstand table, and headed off to work.
No sex.
No sundown promises.
Just this look that I didn’t let myself see before.
And I have to admit, it caused my mind to wander. Like what if he were my boyfriend? What if we were just a normal couple and falling for each other and I didn’t have to hate how good it felt for him to hold me all night long with no sexual advances whatsoever?
It’s an interesting look.
“Hey, do you mind if we stop at Max’s house?” Wyatt asks, his thick forearm perched on the steering wheel. “I need to give this to Everly. She has all this planning to do, I guess, and she said she’d be home today.”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
He rolls his eyes like this is such a bother, but I spot the proud-dad smile on his face. He’s dying to know the gender, but the shower isn’t for another few weeks. Everly literally leaves for Ireland the next day, so I’m sure the girl is crazy busy getting all this done before she goes.
We pull up to Max’s house, and Wyatt gestures for me to come inside with him. It’s hot out, so I oblige, and we walk through the house and spot Everly and Cozy outside by the pool, reading in some lounge chairs.
“Uncle Wyatt!” Ethan bellows as we step onto the back deck. He’s dressed in swim trunks with snorkel goggles on and comes sprinting toward us, barreling right into Wyatt and wrapping his arms around his legs.
Wyatt picks him up like he weighs nothing and holds him over his shoulder. “Ready to go for a swim?”
“Yes!” Ethan cheers, and I watch in horror as Wyatt walks to the deep end of the pool and launches Ethan into the water.
“Oh my God, Wyatt,” I exclaim and glance over to see that Everly and Cozy look perfectly fine with this. “Can he swim?”
“Oh, he’s fine.” Cozy waves me off and then lowers her sunglasses. “Hey, how was the ultrasound?”
I take a moment to recover from the shock of the toss that surely must have given that kid a concussion, but Ethan emerges from the pool, looking unscathed.
“Again, Wyatt, again!” he yells, padding over to him, dripping wet.
Wyatt prepares him for another launch, so I turn on my heel and sit down on the patio chair next to Everly to collect my thoughts before another splash sounds off behind me. I wince and force a smile. “The ultrasound was great. All the growth stuff looks good, my fluid is normal. I still haven’t felt the baby move, but the doctor says any day now. Do you remember what it feels like?”
“With Ethan, it was like bubbles at first. Little tiny pops inside me,” Cozy says with a big smile. “Then when he got bigger, it was like...holy shit, there’s a human doing backflips in there.”
I nod slowly. “I think I’ve been feeling the tiny pops, but I always just assume it’s digestion stuff. I’ll have to pay closer attention, I guess.”
“Did they see the gender?” Everly asks excitedly.
“They did.” I gesture over to Wyatt. “He has the sealed envelope.”
Everly smiles big and drops her book to run over to her uncle to retrieve the big intel.
“It will be a miracle if she keeps this a secret,” Cozy says with a smile. “Oh, hey, I have something for you! Come inside with me. Wyatt, I’m stealing Trista for a bit.”
He frowns curiously at me as Cozy wraps herself in a caftan and drags me onto the deck toward a second patio door farther down along the house. She leads me through a primary bedroom and attached bath and into a huge walk-in closet.
Good Lord, these people really are loaded.
“Would you be interested in any of my old maternity clothes?” Cozy asks as she pulls a huge tote off a shelf and cracks the lid open. “I know they’re seven years old now, so some are a little dated, but I think there’s still some good pieces in here.” She begins to lay them out on the plush carpet flooring. “I just washed them, so they’re clean. And if you don’t want them, that’s totally fine too. I just know I’m done with them and going to donate if you’re not interested.”
“I’m interested,” I blurt out and kneel on the floor to examine the sizes and selection. The clothes are a little more colorful than I’m used to wearing, but I can look past that because I’ve yet to purchase one real maternity outfit. From what I can tell, maternity clothes are the devil, and plus-sized maternity clothes are the devil’s bowel movements.
In fairness, I haven’t done a lot of shopping yet. Mostly because I still don’t think I even look pregnant. Since I’m tall, I think the goat turd is just sort of stretched out in there or something, which results in me just looking thick or bloated. Not really pregnant.
Super hot.
But I know my belly has changed because none of my jeans button anymore. The only maternity thing I did manage to buy was some belly-band thing you can wear over the top of your jeans, but I need to find something decent because jeans won’t be nice enough for the baby shower in a couple of weeks.
“Can I pay you for them? My contract with Wyatt has a clothing stipend, so I can give you something for all this.”
“God, no.” Cozy waves me off. “I’m just glad someone can use them. Do you want to try some on to see how they fit? Maybe I can help you pick something out for the shower in a couple of weeks?”
Relief washes over me because I’ve been having serious anxiety about this shower ever since I got the fancy invitation in the mail. I actually called Everly to tell her that I didn’t think it was necessary for me to be there. It’s really an event for Wyatt, and since I’m not even obviously pregnant yet, it’s not like I’d be some cute display item.
But that girl does not take no for an answer.
I even asked Wyatt if he could get me out of it on our way to the ultrasound appointment earlier today, and there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes over the fact that I didn’t want to come. And after everything he did for me and the chicken coop, I didn’t want to let him down. I guess I’m going to the friggin’ baby shower.
“I would love help picking out what to wear for the shower,” I reply to Cozy. “I’m such a jeans-and-T-shirt girlie, and you guys all looked so nice at the graduation. I don’t want to look frumpy.”
“Oh my God, you couldn’t look frumpy if you tried,” Cozy chastises, her green eyes rolling to the ceiling. “And even if you did look frumpy, no one cares.” She pauses and bites her lip. “Except maybe Wyatt’s mom. That woman is sweet, but she loves to offer friendly feedback.”
Her candid response makes me laugh and instantly like Cozy. She’s more relatable than I expected her to be. Yes, she’s living in a mansion with a pool and a guesthouse and has a closet bigger than my whole apartment in Denver, but I get the sense that she came from humble roots.
We get to work picking out some items for me to try on, and they all fit pretty decently. I’m impressed with how similarly sized Cozy and I are. That is not a common occurrence for a girl like me. And she clearly shops at places a bit nicer than JCPenney, so this stuff is probably worth more than my entire wardrobe.
“Okay, what do we think of this one?” I ask, exiting the closet in a yellow tie-dye maxi dress to find Cozy perched on the bathroom counter, waiting to see the next outfit. “It’s much cheerier than I’m used to. Is yellow even my color? Do I look disgusting?”
Cozy sighs. “Disgustingly perfect.”
“Really?” I ask, hope lifting my brows as I glance at myself in the giant vanity mirror.
Cozy slips off the counter and looks with me. “This honestly looks really beautiful on you.”
“But don’t I look really pregnant?” I ask, pressing the fabric to my stomach. “I swear these clothes do something weird. I didn’t even think I was showing.”
“Oh, you’re showing.” Cozy laughs. “But that’s a good thing. You look luminous, Trista. You’re super pretty.”
I flinch at that comment and look over at her, expecting to see her laughing, but she’s not. She’s genuinely admiring me like a bride who just said yes to a wedding dress. It’s kind of intense.
My sister wouldn’t even compliment me the one time I saved up all my server tips and bought a dress for my first high school winter formal. I remember coming out in it, and she looked at me and cringed. She said it didn’t complement my body type at all, and I better not try to have sex with anyone that night because she was leaving soon, and she wasn’t going to stick around to help me raise a baby.
Thanks, sis.
Although, in her defense, I think I called her a cunt an hour before that for not letting me use the car for the night, so we weren’t really vibing at the time.
