Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I don’t think there’s any worth in trying again,” my dad sighs over breakfast.

At six in the morning when he got up to do farm work, he realized that I hadn’t gone to bed and forced me to inside. I slept for a few hours, but not for long when my nightmares got the best of me. Now, it being close the noon, we sit at the kitchen table because I had slept in and immediately went outside to try and get Patch to eat again. We should be eating lunch, but it’s my fault my dad’s eating breakfast twice.

“Don’t say that,” I whisper, holding back exhausted tears.

“River,” he murmurs, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You have to think of what’s best for you and the baby. Besides, it’s not working so there’s no use straining you.”

I shake my head, scared that if I respond, I might burst into tears. Before my dad can apologize or say more, the back door is thrown open beside me.

“Emery?” My dad says shocked as Emery stumbles into the kitchen. He doesn’t look drunk, but instead, extremely hung-over. So hung-over in fact, that his aviator sunglasses can’t hide the fact that the light is killing him even through the lenses. “Are you just getting in now?”

“Uh, yeah.” He quickly kicks off his shoes and heads towards the stove. Plucking a piece of bacon from the frying pan, he plops it in his mouth and instantly regrets it. Before he can even spit out the food, he’s sprinting upstairs towards the bathroom to most likely throw up.

“Serves him right,” I mutter under my breath. My dad gives me a questioning look but I pretend that I didn’t see it and continue eating.

“So where were you last night, Emery?” My dad asks. I look up from my plate as Emery strolls into the kitchen, his sunglasses misses. Even this far away, I can see his tired eyes are red-rimmed and exhausted.

“I went to a friend’s,” he mumbles tiredly, opening the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of water and leans against the counter, watching me closely as I avoid his gaze.

Abruptly, I rise to my feet and leave my plate sitting half eaten on the table. I’m almost to the back door when my dad clears his throat.

“River, where are you going?”

Staring at the floor as I slip on my shoes, I mumble my response. “To try and get Patch to eat.”

My dad sighs and shakes his head. “Did you not hear what I was saying earlier?” He gives me a stern look however I wrap my hand around the doorknob regardless. “River, you need to rest for you and the baby.”

I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. Instead of replying, I flinch backwards, as if someone had hit me.

“Ouch!” I snap, grabbing my stomach.

“River?” In an instant, Emery is at my side, holding me around the waist in case I fall. Despite last night, he gently rubs my back, trying to comfort me. I flinch again and my dad runs over nervously. “What’s wrong?”

“The baby,” I say breathlessly, more from surprise rather than actual pain. “It’s kicking.” My dad looks like he’s ready to call an ambulance so I assure him I’m fine. Emery leads me over to a chair where I sit and gently take his hand in my own. “Want to feel?”

He nods and I place his hand right where a small, jabbing feeling is coming from inside my stomach. I hold my hand over his for a few moments and then he feels it. As soon as it happens, his mouth falls open and his face lights up with happiness.

“I’m going to go get your mother!” My dad calls, still uneasy about all this. He heads out the back door and lightly jogs to get my mom from the barn.