Free Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) by Sc Montgomery

you.” Okay, I was a chicken shit.
    She smiled sweetly. “I missed you, too. But I’m glad you got back at a decent time. I’m starving. Let’s get some tacos and then . . .” She opened her purse and pulled out some cash. “My mom gave me some money to get some stuff.”
    I stared at her blankly. “Some stuff?”
    “Yeah. For the baby.”
    I know my face couldn’t have registered anything because my brain didn’t register anything. I sat there frozen as the radio droned on in the background and the engine idled listlessly. I had no clue what she was talking about.
    She furrowed her brows. “Reed?”
    “Yeah?”
    “You’re not upset, are you? It’s just to get a few things. I think she’s loosening up a little and trying to help.”
    A few things. My mind rattled like an empty piggy bank—pretty much what I had. What does a baby need?
    A baby.
    Oh. Shit.
    Suddenly, my brain was bombarded with visions of oversized baby carriages full of screaming kids, a kaleidoscope of colorful twirly things that hang above baby beds, car seats, rattlers, babies spitting up . . . it was like a bad sitcom running on a constant feed.
    “Reed?” she repeated, concern showing on her face. “You okay?”
    I turned and stared blankly out the windshield, my thumbs tapping the steering wheel in time with the pulse pounding in my brain. “Sure. I’m fine. Let’s go.” I thrust the car into gear and pulled out, not saying anything else. Not thinking anything else.
    Mel reached over and squeezed my thigh. I glanced down at her hand, then over into her concerned eyes. “I’m happy she’s helping,” she said with a tentative smile. “Aren’t you?”
    I focused back on the road as we turned onto J.P. Bryan Parkway and headed out of town, the pier in my rearview. “Who?”
    “My mom,” she said, her voice clearly puzzled. “She knows we don’t have a lot of money, and well . . .” She waited until I shot her another quick glance. She shrugged.
    Shit. What was I thinking? What did I think I was tearing ticket stubs and shoveling greasy popcorn for, anyway? To buy diapers and pacifiers and bottles and whatever else a little baby would need. That’s what. I should be happy Mel’s mom wanted to help out. But a part of me—probably the part that was still hiccupping on my dad’s stark glare of disappointment, if I was being totally honest—hated that I wasn’t providing everything myself. There was a deep, hidden, self-loathing, probably totally disgusting part of me that wanted Mel and Peanut to need me. Only me.
    But I was just a kid. With sperm.
    I pulled into the Mexican place that had Mel’s favorite tacos and parked. I faced her with a sigh. “It’s fine. I’m not upset. Thank your mom for me, okay?”
    She offered me a tentative smile. “Really?”
    I swallowed back my neediness. My pride. “Sure. We’re getting to pick out the stuff and I’m saving my paychecks to buy the big things.” I smiled and reached up to tuck some stray hair behind her ear, but found myself playing with it between my fingers instead. Mel had always had the softest hair. “It’s no big deal.” I wouldn’t let it be.
    “Okay.” Her smile grew, making her tiny dimples wink. “Then let’s eat. I’m starving!” She ducked out and started toward the door of the restaurant, leaving me to follow.
    And so we ate tacos. Or I should say, I ate tacos. She inhaled them.
    In the parking lot, she rubbed her stomach, finally full. Maybe.
    “What now?” I asked with a smile.
    “Ice cream?” She giggled.
    My eyes widened.
    “Well, okay. Maybe later. Let’s hit the Walmart in Lake Jackson and spend this money that’s burning a hole in my purse.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me.
    I couldn’t help but laugh. This was more like the fun-loving, silly Melissa I’ve known and loved for the past three years.
    “All right. Walmart it is, my lady.”
    And so we went to Lake Jackson and hit the Super Center. I pretended it was a normal