“Does it matter?”
“Maybe not to you.” She twisted around to find her alarm clock. “Five! God, that’s early, especially on a Sunday, which is usually my only day to sleep in. What are you doing?”
“I want to hear about Dylan.”
With a groan, Cheyenne fell back on the pillows. “Did you just get home?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“Where have you been?”
“Hanging out with Aaron.”
That didn’t provide much information. Cheyenne wanted to relax—at least her sister was home safe—but she couldn’t avoid the fact that Presley was high. Now that the sleep was beginning to clear from Cheyenne’s head, she could tell by her sister’s too-loud voice. “What are you on?”
Presley’s gesture was irritable. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry about it. All the time.”
“I’m fine!”
“You need to get off drugs, Pres. Go back into rehab if you can’t stop on your own.”
She hopped off the bed. “You sound like Dylan.”
“He said something to you?”
“Tonight he told me Aaron and I are heading down the wrong road. He asked me not to bring drugs to the house, said Aaron’s getting in over his head. But I don’t know why Dylan’s blaming me. Aaron has plenty of ways to get what he wants. It’s not like I’m his pusher. I share with him. He shares with me. That’s all.”
“So that’s where your money’s going.”
“He pays for his share, and when he pays I deliver.”
Then Dylan was right. “That’s got to stop!”
“It will. Soon.”
After Anita died. Once she figured out a way to cope. But Cheyenne feared whatever she was taking would have too strong a hold on her by then. Dylan was obviously worried about Aaron, too. But five o’clock in the morning probably wasn’t the best time to force the issue.
Cheyenne took a deep breath. “Have you checked on Mom?”
“No, I haven’t. Sometimes I’m just…too afraid to go in there.”
“I’ll do it.” Cheyenne swung her legs over the bed, but Presley stopped her.
“How did it end tonight? With Dylan?”
“He brought me home about one.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“No bumping and grinding? No wet kisses or wild orgasms?”
Guilt welled up, along with the heat of a blush, making Cheyenne glad it was dark. “No.”
“How disappointing.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Actually, he’s taking me out tomorrow night—if you’re available to stay with Mom.”
“I was scheduled to work, but Carolyn can cover my shift. She’s looking for more hours to help with the cost of Christmas.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. She asked me if I had any she could take.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Of course.”
Cheyenne studied what she could see of her sister’s face. “How well do you know Dylan?”
“We’ve been friends a long time.”
“Not close friends.”
“No, but I’ve seen a lot of him.”
“Do you think he’s someone I can trust?”
“I think he’d be good in bed. Why does everything have to be so serious with you?”
“Because I don’t want to pay the price of screwing up my life!”
Sobering, Presley glared at her. “You’re such a killjoy.”
“Choices have consequences, Pres. That’s not my doing.”
Her hand went to her stomach. “I need to tell you something.”
A prickle of unease ran down Cheyenne’s spine. “What’s that?”
“I might be pregnant.”
Unease instantly turned to nausea. “What? And you’re still doing drugs?”
“It’s not for sure. I’m just late, that’s all.”
Oh, God. “Whose baby is it?”
“Whose do you think?”
She seemed offended by the question, but Cheyenne had to ask. Sometimes Presley went home with total strangers she met at the casino. And there was that date last weekend. “Aaron’s?”
“Of course. He’s the only one I’ve been with recently, at least without protection,” she added under her breath.
Cheyenne didn’t know what to say. Her mouth hung open as she tried to absorb this news.
“Never mind.” She waved Cheyenne off with a grimace. “It’s not your problem. I’ll take care of it myself. It’s not the end of the world, you know?”
“Meaning…”
“I’ll get an abortion.”
Whether or not to end a pregnancy wasn’t something Cheyenne was prepared to consider—for her sister or herself. She raked her fingers through her hair. “Does Aaron know about the possibility?”
“No. There’s no reason to tell him. He won’t want it. He’s no more ready for a child than I am.”
Cheyenne swallowed hard. “You need to tell him.”
“No.”
“But maybe you’re wrong about him not wanting it. Maybe—”
“Trust me, the Amoses are not the marrying kind. So if you like Dylan, watch out. Whatever you do, don’t expect a commitment,” she said, and left.
Knees suddenly too weak to carry her to Anita’s room, Cheyenne sagged onto the bed. She’d already had sex with Dylan without birth control once. It’d happened so fast she hadn’t thought much about it, other than to assure herself that it hadn’t been when she was ovulating.
But, even so, there was a chance....
Was she letting herself drift down the same turbulent stream as her sister?
The fear that welled up said she was. What was she thinking, agreeing to see Dylan? If they got involved, it would never culminate in the kind of relationship she wanted. Presley had warned her as clearly as Eve. And, unlike Eve, Presley would know.
Which was why, when Joe called midmorning to ask her to come over and help him decorate the tree they’d bought together, she said yes.
It was also why she called Dylan as soon as she hung up with Joe and broke their date.
* * *
Eve had scrimped and saved for this vacation for months. She’d thought she’d enjoy it more than she was. But she’d decided that two weeks was too long to be gone. She couldn’t wait to get home.