6. Claire

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Claire

Drew is furious as he wheels me to his Hongqi E-HS9. I'll admit, that car rides like a cloud, which will make getting home a smoother process—but I'm not sure it's worth all the rage radiating off him right now.

He's a tall man with broad shoulders, an eight-pack that would make one of those self-proclaimed "alpha males" cry, and an Adonis belt that could turn Aphrodite and Persephone into believers. His muscles were built brick by brick in that dojo and the gym, and right now, every single one of them is tight and ready for war.

I know he's pissed about Aiden calling me "babe," but really, Aiden has always called me that. Aiden was the quarterback at our high school—Fuk High, and naturally, the hottest guy there. Meanwhile, I was the girl with her nose buried in a Kindle. If I wasn't reading, I was volunteering with the local Brothers and Sisters chapter in my area.

I'd been paired up with a little girl named Stacey. Her parents had both overdosed while she was in her crib, sitting in a dirty diaper and crying for hours until a neighbor called the cops. She was eight months old. Her aunt took custody of her, but it was mostly for the government checks. Stacey was often alone, hungry, and barely hanging on—so I became her "Big Sister."

Between Stacey, school, and my reading addiction, I was stretched thin. So when Aiden and his little pack of cronies decided I was their target of the day, I was already at my limit. Aiden had dared Simon to ask me out, with the added challenge of scoring a kiss by the end of the date.

When Simon cornered me between my locker and his body, I did what any reasonable person would do: I shoved my finger so far up his nose he'd feel me there for weeks. He jumped back grabbing the bridge of his nose, shouting, "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, CLAIRE!"

As he stormed toward me, I walked straight up to Aiden and got in his face. "Next time you want to talk to me, just do it yourself. You don't need to send your little teratozoospermia to get my attention."

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"Terato-what? What did you just call me?" Simon asked behind me.

I didn't answer. I just walked away, shoulder-checking Aiden as I passed. I guess he was impressed—because we've been friends ever since. He started off calling me "Zoospermia Girl," but I told him to call me anything but that, "Babe" became the compromise, and out of the two evils, it was the lesser.

But all of that still doesn't justify the fury Drew's carrying right now. I should be the one with the wrath. But thanks to the pain meds, my wrath looks more like a rogue acid trip.

Drew lifts me into the passenger seat and buckles me in carefully, making sure not to hurt my ribs or arm. We don't speak until we're halfway home.

"Drew," I say, voice even. "Is there a reason you feel entitled to be this angry? Because last I checked, I'm the one with a broken body, a broken heart, and a man I'm desperately in love with who has someone else pregnant. Not to mention, he runs every time she calls."

As if summoned by the universe itself, Drew's phone rings. It's connected to the car, and sure enough, Becca's name lights up the screen. He glances at me. I'm watching him—waiting.

He answers, just like I knew he would.

"Hey Becca, I'm busy right now we'll have to talk later." I'm sure he's praying to every and any god that'll listen for Becca to keep it short and innocent.

But Becca doesn't do innocent.

"Drewy," she purrs, "I need help with a few things around the house. Last time you were here, you said you didn't want me climbing ladders, to call you instead. I need two light bulbs changed, and the smoke detector won't stop beeping—it's giving me a headache. That's not good for the baby, right?"

Drew leans his head back against the seat and clenches his jaw before replying.

"I'm sure my mom can have someone over in five minutes if you call her, Becca. I can't come over right now—and for the next few days, I need to be with C and take care of her."

Right on cue, Becca starts crying. She doesn't even bother with the guilt trips anymore. No "we grew up together" or "remember our promises." She doesn't even try to mingle it in with some sort of sappy guilt trip from the past anymore, she used to give the whole spiel of how they were childhood friends and she pretty much grew up in their house and they made promises to each other blah blah blah she doesn't need that anymore, cue the tears. That's all she needs. Then cue Hero Drew.

"The beeping is driving me crazy, Drewy... maybe you can just pick me up on your way home from the hospital? I know you mentioned you were going there this morning. Oh—and thanks for dinner and hanging out with me last night, by the way."

Yup. That'll do it.

I reach into my purse to call Joy and Aiden—because there is no way I'm putting up with this weird sister-wives situation I've landed in.

Before I can dial, Drew grabs my hand and looks at me in a panic. "What are you doing, baby?" His voice cracks as he tries to watch both the road and me.

He's still gripping my hand, too tightly might I add, and I wince. "You're hurting me, Drew. Let go. I'm calling Joy and Aiden to come get me. You can go help Becca. As someone also in pain, I'm sure her headache must be excruciating. And since she knew you were picking me up from the hospital, I'm positive she wouldn't have called frivolously. So, it must be really bad."

Drew can hear the sarcasm dripping from my tongue and gives me a not impressed really? Face 

He sighs, then speaks into the car system. "Becca, I'm sorry about your headache. I'll call my mom for you if that helps, but I need to get C home, fed, and in bed. I won't be able to help you right now."

And then—he hangs up.

He hung up on Becca.

My jaw drops.

He's never hung up on her. I know she's probably on the other end of that call just as stunned as I am. And if there's one thing I know for sure?

An angry Becca is a scheming Becca.

And when Becca schemes, someone always gets hurt.

That someone... is usually me.