Page 26 of Seein’ Red

I wish I could put my finger on why.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, unable to think of anything else.

“You wanna know?” she challenges. Stopping right in front of me, she pushed to her tiptoes so we’re eye to eye. “You really want to fucking know, Nash Elijah Keller?”

Full name. I’m in deep shit. If only I knew why.

“Yes, Willa Mae Hayes,” I toss back, knowing how much she hates her middle name. “I do.”

“You sure about that?”

I swallow hard. She thinks she has me on this, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know just how much I want to fix whatever is making her this upset. Even if that something is me. Especially if that something is me.

“Sure am.”

Willa huffs out a long, deep breath through her nostrils, like she’s a fire-breathing dragon. Her eyes are still glued to mine, filled with so much emotion it’s hard to pin down which one is controlling her.

“I’m late.”

Late? She’s late? That's what has her in this tizzy?

I quickly glance at my watch, not actually noting the time, my brain still trying to catch up. This can’t seriously be about her having plans that she’s running behind on. Whatever it is will certainly wait for her. She’s Willa Hayes, for crying out loud—a former Miss Georgia, and the face of Hayes Industries since she was a child. At one point, the town used to joke that she was more famous than the Gerber and Coppertone babies combined.

“So? Text whomever and tell them you’re on your way.”

Willa’s eyes go wide, exasperation taking over. Like my solution to stopping the Titanic from sinking was Scotch tape.

“No, Nash. I’m. Late.”

She says it again, slower, emphasizing each word, as if repeating it is going to make it make more sense. It doesn’t.

“Then what the fuck are you standing here talking to me for?”

“Drop the act, Nash. This is not the moment to fuck with me.”

"Oh, I’ll fuck you if that’s what you want,” I quip, dropping my voice and trying to sound seductive, even if in jest. I throw in a wink for good measure.

Willa’s nostrils flare, the fire-breathing dragon returning. “No, you’ve done enough of that. Hence why we’re having this discussion.”

Okay, now she’s lost me.

“What are you talking about?”

“Damn it, Nash! Arrrgghhgghh!” she screams, reaching out like she’s going to strangle me. “Even you are not this stupid.”

Stupid, no. But clearly slow on the uptake. Because I am missing something here.

Stepping forward, she pushes past me, knocking me off my balance. I turn, watching as she digs through her bag, pulling out a small piece of plastic and foil. She holds it up like a flash card, eyes wide and full of fire, once again repeating herself. “I’m late.”

Willa stomps toward me, smacking me in the chest with her hand, complete with plastic item. I take it from her, holding it up. My brain takes a moment to register that it’s a pill packet, the kind where you push the pill through the foil backing, like the Z-Pak of antibiotics I got for my sinus infection last month. The back is hard to read due to all the punchouts, but my eyes finally catch the two very important words.

Birth control.

Willa’s late. As in…

I look up at her, the shock registering on my face reflecting back in her eyes. She nods.

“I’m late. The ultimate late.”