You Know I Need You (You Are Mine #4) - Willow Winters Page 0,29

and whole and like everything was going to be better than okay.

How loved I felt when he held me and kissed me.

How I didn’t want to be anything other than his when he laid me down in bed.

I think that’s the part that hurts the most. I would give up everything to just be his.

And he can’t be bothered to text me back. Not even today, and I really could have used his support today. It was hard enough to keep my composure for the full two hours. I didn’t say anything the entire time. But on the way back home, I felt a pair of eyes on me. It was like a prickle at the base of my neck, like a sixth sense that told me someone was following me.

I hailed a cab and texted Evan immediately. It was out of habit more than anything else.

I was probably just crazy with paranoia and all the hormones and raging emotions coming with the pregnancy. At least I’m honest with Evan, open and raw. If nothing else I’m giving him everything I have to offer. He can’t even send me a reassuring text.

Absently my hand falls to my belly. It’s been doing that. Reminding me that there’s another small life in the mix. I focus on taking deep breaths in and out. More than anything, I need to stay calm.

I pick up my phone, intent on texting everything.

He can ignore me all he wants, but I’m going to tell him everything I feel. I deserve that much. To at least be able to tell him what’s on my mind. I’m not the one who keeps secrets. I’m not perfect, I text him. I’m slowing down at work. I have to, I’m so tired. I love being pregnant, though. I love knowing we’re going to have a baby.

I’m afraid I’m hurting him by being this way. I don’t know how to get better, though.

I delete the last two lines and stare at the ceiling as tears threaten to come.

I used to do this when my parents passed. I used to write to them like I did when I was a kid at camp. After they died, I’d write to them telling them how angry I was. I begged them, pleading with them to come back.

It’s not fair that Evan is alive and says he wants me, when a very large piece of my heart feels like I’ve lost him forever.

Please, Evan. Please come back to me.

Just as I delete all the words, not sending him a single message, my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, and I let it ring again in my hand before answering it. “Hello?”

“Hello. This is Dr. Pierce. Is this Katerina Thompson?”

“Yes, can I help you?” The nervousness wracks through my voice at the knowledge that there’s a unfamiliar doctor on the line.

I’m so sorry to call you, but Mr. Thompson’s phone has you listed as his daughter. Is that right?”

I’m confused at first, imagining that Evan’s in the hospital, but then I realize it’s his father, Henry, who the doctor is referring to.

“Is he in the hospital?” The question comes out hurriedly as I sit up straighter, my mind waking up from the fog it was just in. Rather than correcting the doctor and telling him I’m Henry’s daughter-in-law and soon-to-be ex-daughter-in-law at that, I rush the next question out without waiting for a response to the first. “Is everything all right?”

The doctor exhales on the other end of the line, but it’s not out of exhaustion or boredom. It’s the type of sound that accompanies bad news. The kind of sigh that says, I’m so sorry, I wish I didn’t have to tell you.

No. No, no, no. Denial overwhelms me.

“I would like to first apologize for having to break this news to you over the phone,” the doctor says, and I’m taken back to middle school. Sitting down in the principal’s office, wondering what I did. I sat there, my legs swinging nervously as he brought in the secretary, then gave me such a sad look before leaving the room. He was so sorry to tell me. They’re always so sorry to tell you.

No one wants to be in the room when you learn your parents have died. No one wants to be the person to tell you. I could see it in Mrs. Carsen’s eyes.

“Sorry to tell me what?” I ask with caution, but my body is already prepared for it. My heart