Free The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance) by Sarra Cannon Page B

rest,”
he says. “All that stuff will still be here when you wake up.
Maybe after some good sleep, you’ll be able to think clearer
and make some decisions about who to tell and what you want to do.”
    “I really wish I could talk to Mason,”
I say. “He’s not answering my calls.”
    “It might be better to wait until you know
what you’re going to say to him, anyway.”
    I shrug. “I just want to know he doesn’t
hate me.”
    “He doesn’t,” Preston says. “I
promise.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because we all make mistakes. And because
true friends are going to stick by you even when you seriously fuck
up,” he says. “Mason’s been in your life too long
and he cares about you too much to turn his back on you over this.
You should have seen him out there after your accident. When you
drove off, he rushed inside and yelled for help. We heard the tires
squeal and all hopped in the back of Knox’s truck to come find
you. He wasn’t mad, Penny. He was terrified.”
    My eyes widen. So I hadn’t dreamed it. “He
was there?”
    “Yes. He might just be taking some time to
work it out in his head. Maybe he thinks you need some space. Get
some sleep, okay? I’ll stay out here and watch TV just in case
you need anything.”
    I nod slowly and yawn, suddenly so tired I can
barely keep my eyes open.
    I stand and wrap my arms around him. “Thank
you,” I say. “I don’t know what I would do without
you.”
    “You’ll never have to find out,”
he says. “I love you sis.”
    “Love you, too.”
    I disappear into my bedroom, but keep the door
cracked. Just knowing Preston’s there watching out for me
helps. When I lay down, all I can do is toss and turn for a while, my
mind spinning with questions and fears. Eventually, I fall asleep and
dream of what it will be like to hold a tiny baby in my arms.

Chapter Eighteen
    That evening, I emerge from my bedroom to find
Preston sitting on the couch in my living room watching baseball.
    My hair is wild from tossing and turning and my
jaw is throbbing. There are bandages covering the worst of the cuts
on my face and hands and knees. I walk over to the table to find the
extra gauze and bandages we picked up on the way home.
    “Hey sleepyhead,” Preston says. “Did
you get some good rest?”
    “A little,” I say. “I didn’t
want to get out of bed, but I desperately need a shower. I stink.”
    “I thought I smelled something,” he
says.
    I throw a box of gauze at his head, but he catches
it instead.
    “Lucky catch,” I say.
    “It’s the skills,” he says,
laughing. He turns around on the couch to look at me. “They
didn’t want to wake you up, but Mom and Dad want to see you
downstairs as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”
    “I don’t think I’m ever going to
feel up to that conversation,” I say, groaning.
    “You should just get it over with,” he
says. “You’ll feel better once it’s done and
they’ve said whatever it is they need to say.”
    “I can’t tell them about the baby,”
I say. “Not yet. Please don’t tell anyone.”
    “I won’t.”
    “I’m going to get in the shower and
get dressed,” I say. “I’ll be out in a little
while.”
    He nods and goes back to the Braves game.
    I linger in the shower longer than I should, but
the hot water feels so good. I let it wash the dried blood from my
scratches and the dirt from my legs and hands and hair. When I come
out, I feel like a new person. Naked, I stand in front of the large
mirror in my closet and place my hand against my tummy. I turn
sideways and try to imagine what it will look like when I start to
grow bigger.
    I’ve always been a baby freak. I’m
always the first person to show up at baby showers. Usually with the
biggest, most extravagant gift. Any time one of my cousins or someone
else in our family has a baby, I make a beeline straight to them,
begging to hold the little one. I love babies so much, and have
always wanted to be a mom. I just never thought