Secret Plunge - Jasmin Miller Page 0,4

the window. Soft snowflakes fall from the light gray sky, the motion oddly soothing. A sudden urge to go outside overcomes me, and I get off my bed.

Ten minutes later, I'm in front of the apartment building, dressed in my puffy winter coat and furry snow boots, with a thick wool hat, scarf, and gloves completing my winter outfit.

I walk around aimlessly until I feel like a frozen popsicle. When I turn around and wander through the almost empty streets, a billboard catches my eye.

It takes my brain several minutes to figure out what I'm looking at.

Or rather . . . who.

Ryan.

The man who got me pregnant is staring back at me from an ad. It's for a popular sports clothing company. He's dressed in athletic shorts and a tight workout shirt, the muscles I remember so vividly stretching the fabric.

Why on earth is he on an ad?

My thoughts are trying to find their way through the maze my brain has turned into as I speed-walk back home.

I need to know what's going on, and my phone doesn’t do me any good right now since the snow has gotten worse, making it impossible to see the screen for longer than half a second.

When I’m finally home, I look like a wet rat, and I'm glad my mom isn't here to lecture me about ruining the floors with the wet clothes I drop everywhere.

A few minutes later, I slip under my covers with dry clothes and a towel wrapped around my head, booting up my computer.

It takes one Google search, and I'm staring straight at Ryan's gorgeous face.

His light-brown hair, his beautiful brown eyes. The sharp jawline. And that smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

I’ve never seen a sexier man before. What would it be like to be by his side? To be a part of his life? No, that’s about the last thing I need right now. I'm in no shape to start anything with anyone. Not that it would last anyway with my track record.

My eyes scan the page, eating up even the smallest piece of information I can find about him. I gasp when they land on the small writing in the corner.

Ryan Monroe.

His name is Ryan Monroe.

My brain mulls over that new information before it finally kicks back in action. I open another browser window and type in his name.

I need to find out more about this man.

I need to know everything there is.

The search brings up more entries than I thought, but everything fades to the background when my gaze gets stuck on one of the top posts.

A news post.

Ryan Monroe starts training with Coach Martin.

The words assault my mind and heart simultaneously. Why me? My chest feels so tight my breaths turn shallow.

Oh. Shit.

Ryan, my Ryan from New Year's, my one-night stand and father of my unborn child, is a professional swimmer, and my dad is his coach. This can’t be happening. But . . . relief floods me because I didn’t say anything to my dad earlier.

I'm not sure if I want to cry or laugh.

My brain is foggy as I grab my phone and type out a message to my dad.

I'm going to come for a visit.

And then I push send right before burying my face in the mountain of pillows on my bed.

What a gigantic mess.

Three

Ryan

“Ry?" my brother yells, probably too lazy to walk to my office, even though it’s only a few doors down the hallway either way.

“What?” I’m in the middle of catching up with my emails, and Zane knows better than to expect me to jump every time he wants something from me.

To me, he’s still a kid at barely eighteen. Since he thinks he’s an adult though, he might as well act like one and get his ass moving.

“Ry.” He says my name like it has twenty syllables, and I barely refrain from rolling my eyes.

My concentration has gone to shit, and I push my hands through my hair, wanting to pull on it to relieve some of the frustration.

“Come here. I need to ask you something.” There he goes again. That kid.

Why can’t he ask me what he wants right now instead of having a yelling match across rooms? It’s such a teenage thing to do.

When he calls once more, I give up, ready to give him a piece of my mind. I push back my chair and stand up, grabbing my empty water bottle on the way. Time for a refill anyway.

I stomp