Tex motioned for the bathroom, the movement jolting me out of the sensual memory. “Can you manage on your own or… ?” He scratched his head and crossed his chest with his arms.
I laughed. “I’m only four weeks, Tex. I think I can walk to the bathroom without face planting.”
“Sure.” His eyes narrowed. “If you’re sure.”
“Tex,” I snapped. “Look, I appreciate the help but just… stop.” Stop making me feel guilty. Stop looking at me like I’m damaged! Just stop! Look at me like you used to. Like you promised you always would! I suddenly wanted to shatter every mirror in the room. I was stuck at the lowest of the low, and I couldn’t even tell him the truth.
A muscle twitched in his jaw as he took two large steps towards me. “No. I won’t just stop because you say you’re fine. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing okay? I may be an ass but I’m worried about you, so excuse me for asking you every damn second of the day if you can handle things. I’m having problems handling things, and it’s not my body going through this, alright? So if I ask you every half second how you’re doing, don’t be a bitch, Mo. Alright? Besides…” He stepped back and exhaled another curse. “Right now I’m your best bet, after all the kid isn’t even mine and I’m taking credit for it.”
Tears stung behind my eyes, and emotion thickened in the back of my throat as I tried to find my voice. “Tex, I’m sorry. I just—”
“Whatever. Yell if you need me. I’ll go start the coffee.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving me in silence.
Maybe that was the reason for my nightmares. In all my life, the Tex I knew would never slam a door in my face. He wouldn’t raise his voice, he would never—and I do mean never—approach me with as much as a raised octave to his tone.
But now? It seemed my entire existence infuriated him. He wasn’t the same man I’d known my whole life—which begged the question, was he ever who I thought he was? Or just who I wanted him to be? Who we as a family needed him to be?
War has a way of changing people… but with Tex, the thought lingered, what if he’s been just waiting to strike?
What if…
We invited the enemy in our very own home.
Only to be infiltrated from the inside out.
Things had been brought to my attention over the last three weeks, disturbing things… if they were true. I chewed my lower lip in deep thought.
“Mo!” Tex yelled from the other side of the door. “Thirty minutes, get moving, you want to look your best.”
I saluted the door with my middle finger and made my way into the bathroom. My reflection killed me. It really did. Because on the outside I looked the same. Dark silky hair that fell to my mid-back, bright blue eyes, a sharp feminine jaw, high cheekbones, and olive skin that I’m pretty sure every girl would kill for—just hopefully not kill me for. Sad, that the thought actually entered my head. Then again I’d had a lot of threats to my life within the past few weeks, just more secrets to hide from everyone.
I lifted my shirt and patted my flat stomach. What would it be like to bring a child into a family of war instead of peace? What child of mine, or even Tex’s for that matter, would have a shot in hell with the information I’d just learned? Was it even fair to bring innocence into our blood-stained hands?
I shook my head and tried to snap out of it. Nixon would be expecting his sister, the typical smart-ass, sarcastic, slightly narcissistic pain in his ass. And right now I was acting like Eeyore. “Snap out of it, Mo.” I took a few soothing breaths and turned on the shower.
Time to put on a show.
Time to fool them all.
Again.
CHAPTER THREE
Blood is always telling. It holds the key to our existence. It holds your life and eventually your death.
Tex
I GRIPPED THE COFFEE CUP so hard my hand hurt. The scalding burn of the liquid through the porcelain was the only thing that made me feel better. Great, I was officially turning into a masochist. Hell, maybe I’d always been one. I’d have to be to keep going back to Mo and praying that things would be different.
But every damn time it was the same.
She offered me a piece.
When I wanted it all.
And then she’d gone and cheated, not that I was really able to stand on a soap box about that one, considering I’d cheated first. But still, I had cheated one time to acquire some information, not because I actually enjoyed getting smothered by someone who smelled like cheap perfume and wore red lipstick on the outside of her lips. I shuddered and took another sip of coffee. The second time I’d cheated I’d done it purposely, to piss Mo off. Better than break her heart. At least if she was pissed, she could shoot me and get it over with, but that had been a gargantuan error, you know because I was still freaking obsessed with her and all. Right, good move Tex, just make her hate you enough to go and sleep with some effing bastard stupid enough to get her pregnant. Shit. Had she even checked for STDs? How did I even broach that conversation with her? Shuddering, I took another long sip of coffee. Thankfully, I’d made it strong. Hell, I probably should have added whiskey to it—Nixon would need it.
We would all need it after shit went down.
I checked my phone just as Mo came breezing into the kitchen. That’s what she did. She breezed. She never did something so common as walking. It would be impossible for her. Every movement was fluid, purposeful, graceful. It was distracting as hell when the person you were in love with, moved like some sort of goddess out of a mythological tale.