Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter One

“River,” Mary murmurs, reaching in the space between us and taking my hand. “What are you doing this weekend?” She asks, quickly changing the subject. I give her a shrug and she smiles. “There’s someone from school I want you to meet.”

My eyes grow wide. “Someone as in a boy?”

Mary lets go of my hand and smacks my arm. “You’ll have to wait and find out.” Before I can respond, she’s turning Patch around and heading back to the farm I urge Silver to catch up and slow down when I reach Mary.

“Meredith Rosemary Smith,” I call as she refuses to turn to me. “This boy must be something special if you aren’t completely freaking out over him.” Finally she meets my eyes and I see the smug smile on her lips.

“He is.” Then she turns her head, the smile not fading as she says no more. Mary’s liked guys before, but I don’t remember the last time she had a boyfriend. Plenty of guys like her however just not the right ones. So if she’s not gushing to me about details right now and being calm, he must be the one.

“There you are,” Emery smiles as Mary and I walk towards the barn. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Emery helps me down from Silver and gently kisses my forehead. He holds my free hand as the other grips the reigns.

“Why were you looking for me?” I ask curiously, raising my eyebrows.

“What?” Emery laughs. “Do I need a reason to want to see the love of my life?” Before he can see me blush he gently kisses my lips. Pulling back, I notice Mary’s already heading into the barn with Patch. Only she’s not walking; she’s skipping. “What’s with her?”

I roll my eyes and lead both my boyfriend and my horse towards the barn. “I think she’s infatuated with a boy.” Emery nods but it’s clear he really doesn’t understand.

An hour later, Mary’s gone home and we’re sitting at the kitchen table. Ever since the news of my pregnancy, meals have always been exceptionally quiet and extremely awkward. Tonight’s no different so when drop my fork on my plate, making a loud sound, all eyes are on me.

“So,” my dad sighs, clearing his throat now that I’ve broken the silence. “Emery, your eighteenth birthday must be coming up.” My eyes turn to Emery, who’s completely focused on my dad. Believe it or not, I forgot he even has a birthday. He’s never mentioned it and I guess I never asked. “When is it?”

Emery finishes chewing his steak and sets his fork down. “June third.”

My dad nods. “Only two months away. You know what that means, don’t you?” Emery stares at my father, not saying anything. It’s clear that he doesn’t so my dad rests his elbows on the table and starts to explain. “Since I’m your legal guardian, I’m responsible for you. However, only until you’re eighteen. That been said.” He pauses and briefly looks at me before watching Emery again. “You’re free to leave here and I can’t stop you.”

I turn my eyes to watch Emery again. He’s avoiding everyone’s eyes, including mine as he stares down at his half empty plate. I desperately want to know what’s going through his head at this very moment however I’m too afraid to ask and I fear the answer.

“But,” my dad continues, turning my attention back to him. Since Emery refuses to meet his gaze he’s staring at me. “You have some big responsibilities back here.” My cheeks instantly go red and I’m embarrassed. I hate whenever my parents bring up my pregnancy, our relationship, or how my pregnancy came to be.

Suddenly, the table shakes and there’s a creaking noise as Emery pushes himself away from the table. He hangs his head low so that his black hair falls in front of his eyes, not wanting to look at anyone and not wanting anyone to look at him. No one says a word as he heads towards the back door, slides on his black shoes and heads outside.

My parents and I sit silently at the dinner table, no one eating and no one speaking. I’m the only one who decides to look as I turn around in my seat. Out the window, I watch Emery walking towards the fields, not caring about where he’s going but wanting to be alone. Even from this distance I can see him blow out a puff of smoke and it quickly catches in the breeze, blowing away.

Somewhere deep down, I wonder if he’s going to quit his habit when the baby comes. But I quickly push the thought away, not wanting to think more about the impending child. It’s too soon to tell if it’s a boy or a girl and so far, it doesn’t feel like it’s even there at all. The only constant reminder that I’m pregnant is my parents, lecturing me every single chance they get.

Slowly, I push myself away from the table. My parent’s watch me, almost as if they’re telling me not to leave. Regardless, I leave my barely touched food on my plate and head for the door. Outside, I see Emery sitting on the small hill that overlooks the farm. The day’s fading sunlight shines from behind him, casting a shadow in front of me as I walk towards him.

He doesn’t look at me as I slowly sit down beside him in the dry grass. I stare out over the farm and wonder how one single person could change another’s entire life.

“What are we going to do?” I sigh, bringing my knees into my chest and hugging them. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Emery takes a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of his nose like a bull. He always does that when he’s angry, just like the real animal does.

“I don’t want to talk about this, River,” he snaps, quickly indulging in another drag of his cancer stick.

“You never do,” I whisper, looking at him avoiding my gaze. “That’s the problem.” A month ago, I told him about being pregnant. Now, I swear Emery has two different personalities. He’s caring, loving and completely adorable most of the time. He’ll kiss me, hug me and say the sweetest things. However when someone brings up the fact that we’re going to be parents in less than a year, he’s the exact opposite. In fact, he’s more like the Emery Hastings that first came to live on my farm. He’s rude, mean and keeps to himself.

Emery sighs in annoyance and pulls the cigarette out from between his lips. He twists it on the bottom of his shoe, putting it out before he drops it into the grass. He quickly stands up before I can stop him and walks down the hill, not replying to me and leaving me by myself.

I fall back in the grass and think about what my dad said at the dinner table. Staring up at the white, fluffy clouds in the darkening sky, I start to wonder. If Emery’s free to leave the farm, leave me and leave the baby in two months, will he?