Free Losing Gabriel by Lurlene McDaniel Page B

late afternoon leaking through the window like dark fingers. They were facing Franklin, who had dragged over a desk chair to sit directly in front of them, his face grim.
    Sloan’s heart hammered, the I-don’t-give-a-damn front she’d wanted to display completely vanquished. She was scared and trapped, a life out of her control. Dawson had talked her into this face to face, telling her over and over that his father would help them. So she’d come.
    “Sloan, I know you’re scared. I know you don’t know what to do. This is why we’re here…so we can figure this out together.” Franklin’s voice was calm and soothing.
    His doctor-to-panicked-patient voice,
Dawson thought, a far cry from the fury Franklin had heaped on Dawson. Shock. Disbelief. Disgust.
Disappointment
—a parent’s great weapon turned on a child he once cherished. “How could this happen? We had ‘the talk’ when you were a kid. You
knew
about protection! If you decided to have sex, it was your responsibility to be safe. This didn’t have to happen. It
shouldn’t
have happened!”
    He’d let his father rant and pace. Dawson had no defense, not even
“I got caught up. One time. Just once.”
He absorbed the angry words knowing he’d screwed up and deserved Franklin’s rage.
    Franklin’s final blow came when he’d spun and said, “What about your future? College? All those plans we’ve made? This changes everything, Dawson. Everything! And what about Sloan? What are the two of you going to do?”
    For two days their house had been a war zone, a hot war now turned cold, with Sloan and him facing a firing squad of indecision. Dawson sat with his fists clenched against his thighs, his jaw rigid. And now here all of them sat. Deciding.
    Franklin offered Sloan another tissue. “Have you told your mother?”
    Sloan shook her head.
    “She should know.”
    “Why? If I get rid of it, she doesn’t ever have to know.”
    “Is that what you and Dawson want to do?”
    Sloan sidled a glance at Dawson. “Well, I don’t want to have a baby. But…but the other thing…”
The other thing…
“It’s simple, isn’t it? It just gets sucked away, doesn’t it?”
    Dawson leaped to his feet, angry at her. “Listen to yourself, Sloan! You’re talking to my father about his
grandchild
!”
    Sloan drew back.
Franklin’s grandchild.
Until this moment, she hadn’t thought of the baby as a person. Nor had she thought that what was growing inside of her belonged to all of them. “I—I’m sorry…I didn’t mean—”
    Franklin took her hands in his but looked up at his son. “That’s enough, Daw. It’s a reasonable question.” Still holding her hands, he said to Sloan, “There are clinics for the procedure, but you do have other choices. That’s why we’re here exploring them.”
    She felt him squeeze her hands reassuringly. “I know…it’s just that…” She broke off, unable to put her turmoil into words.
    “Dawson told me you are unsure about getting married.”
    She refused to make eye contact with Dawson. “I…I…well, I mean, not really…I want…just want to leave Windemere. And to sing—” She felt like a cornered animal, desperate to say the right thing but unsure of what that was.
    “Dawson played that Christmas CD you made for him. I was impressed. You are a good singer.” He smiled to reassure her. Sloan calmed. Franklin motioned Dawson back onto the sofa with a glare and a nod. When Dawson sat, Franklin asked, “I’ve heard what Sloan is considering. So now tell me, son, what do
you
want to do? You’re the baby’s father. You have a say in this, you know. I want to hear from both of you.”
    Dawson felt hot and squirmy. Over the long days, he’d thought about little else. His head had filled with regret and resentment, but now the look of fear and expectation on Sloan’s face turned toward him blanketed his anger.
This is my baby too. My baby. Mine.
The den was warm and smelled of leather and old books, and the