I take a deep breath, trying to keep my anger at bay. “And why in the hell did you stop wearing it? I don’t understand.”

She pushes me away from her and starts pacing the alley. “Because I didn’t want to get married! Okay?! Is that what you want to hear?! Because that’s the God’s honest truth. After you left, I did a lot of soul searching, and I’m not ready, Kale. We’re not ready! I’m nineteen years old and way too young to be a wife. Way too young to be a mother.” The last part comes out in a whisper, and I begin to feel wary.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know the implications.

She stops in her tracks and looks at me, this time with hardened eyes. “It means I terminated the pregnancy.”

Her cold words cause my knees to buckle and I have to brace myself against the wall to keep from falling to the ground. The pain of thinking she had a miscarriage was nearly unbearable, but now knowing that I’m no longer going to be a dad because Tara decided she didn’t want the baby is an excruciating torment I have no idea how to combat or to even begin to process. My lungs feel heavier with each breath I take, and when I see her coming towards me, I back up and hold a hand out, wanting her to stay away, as far away as possible.

“Kale, I know it’s a shock, and I probably shouldn’t have done it without telling you, but you were out of contact. There was nothing else I could do. But come on. We’re not even twenty. We weren’t ready, and in the end, you’ll see this was for the best. I promise. Now we can just go back to being us, not engaged, not about to be parents. Just Kale and Tara. Like we always have been.”

I look at her in disbelief. “I was out of contact because I was preparing to provide for our family. I signed my fucking life away for you, for the baby. I loved you. I already loved him. I don’t… How the fuck could you do this to me?”

She tries to wrap her arms around me, but I push her off, feeling disgusted by her touch. “It’s better this way. You’ll see. We’ll be better this way.”

Shaking my head, I let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong, Tara. As far as I’m concerned, there is no more us. And the fact that you can’t see that you just ripped my heart to fucking shreds? There probably never should’ve been.”

She rushes towards me, only stopping when I hold my hand out. “Kale, don’t say that. We can get past this. I do still care about you.”

My eyes close as I let out a deep breath. I let her words wash over me, and my blood begins to boil. I want to scream at her. I want to cry my fucking eyes out. I want to go back three months and never set foot on the damn plane so I could’ve been there to try and at least talk this out with her. But I can’t. I can’t go back, and this can’t be undone. Every single ounce of love I once felt for this girl slowly drains from my heart, and as she stands in front of me, waiting for me to tell her everything is okay, I just can’t do it. I feel nothing but anger, resentment, and honestly, hatred.

I close the distance between us, placing a hand on the back of her neck. She looks up at me with hopeful eyes, and I can’t believe she thinks we—I—can get past this.

“I might’ve believed that before, Tara, but I sure as hell don’t now. I loved you more than life itself, and walking away is going to be so goddamn hard, but if I stay here, I’m just going to feel sick to my stomach every time I look at you. It’ll always be a reminder of what you stole from me, what I can never get back. I’ll just end up hating you more than I do right now, and the magnitude of that is one I don’t think I can take. Truth be told, when I walk out of this alley, I could never see you again and I’d die the happiest man on the planet.”

Without another word, I turn and walk out of the alley to find Kaylie waiting for me. She slides an arm around my waist and helps me to the car. When she gets in, she starts the engine then turns to me. She places the small stuffed animal in my hands. The feel of the plush material is my undoing, and the tears begin to fall.

Leaning over, she squeezes my shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d want to leave this behind. He may be gone, Kale, but it was out of your hands. Just remember he was always wanted. And maybe we never did get to meet him, but I have faith that he’s somewhere up there in the universe and he knows that. He would’ve been lucky to have had you as a father.”

She keeps talking as she makes the drive to Mom’s house, but I tune her out, unable to hear her reassurances. She’s right. I wanted that kid more than anything. Sure, I was scared as hell when Tara told me she was pregnant. I was a nineteen-year-old college student who worked in a restaurant. But once the initial shock wore off and Tara said yes to my proposal, the idea of starting a family became an exciting one. I enlisted so I could be a provider and be the father I never had. Every single night, when I crawled onto my cot, exhausted, sore as hell, and mentally drained, I envision Tara and my future kid, knowing that every single second spent there was worth it just for them. I never, not in a million years, thought that when I took that oath I’d end up losing the only things I ever wanted.

I’m still reeling from it all as I curl up against the window, the teddy bear acting as my only lifeline, my only link to the child I’ll never meet. In that short car ride, I let all the pain out and decide then and there that I’m far too broken from this to ever let anyone in again. The loss is one that will haunt me. I don’t think I can ever risk going through this again, and I never plan to.

Chapter 22

Present, December 2013


Kale


LETTING OUT a deep breath, I sit up slowly and grab the bottle even though I know in the back of my mind that I need to slow it down. I’m going to be a walking dead man tomorrow, but it’s been so long since I let myself remember that day, and now that I have, all I want to do is forget.

Clumsily, I gather everything up and start to set it all back in the box with as much care as I can muster in my drunken state. I don’t ever plan on going through this again. Even with my alcohol-muddled mind, I think back on Xavier’s words and know I need to let it go. And maybe this is what I needed—a drunken breakdown to remember what I lost. But at the same time, it gives me even more reason to cherish what I have now.

Slowly, I finger each item, knowing that this is the last time I’ll ever lay eyes on them. With all the clarity I can muster, which isn’t much thanks to the bourbon, I say goodbye with each piece that I pack away. I almost miss the sonogram on the floor, but at the last second, it catches my eye and I pick it up, eyeing it warily. Even though this is what set me off, I feel a little calmer than before, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the fact that I let myself relive that day, or the knowledge that this wasn’t it for me. For once, I can look at this sonogram and not feel like my one chance at true happiness has been washed down the drain. Placing it on top the blanket, I give it a drunken pat before I sigh as I close the box. My fingers rub the top, and I close my eyes, whispering a silent goodbye.

Sitting back against the couch, I clutch the bourbon as I stare at the box. Ever since I found out Lucy was pregnant, I’ve been the strong one. As scary as it seemed, I was thrilled. Sure, I panicked when she said she had to weigh her options, but ever since she let me in, I’ve been ecstatic, and it feels different than it did with Tara. The more I think about it, the more pissed off I get that I’m even making the comparisons.

Rising from the couch, I nearly fall over and have to brace myself on the coffee table. Less than graciously, I pick up the box and meander back to my bedroom, ready to put it away for good. Once it’s secure in my closet, I lean back against the door, a sigh of relief leaving my lips. Part of me knows that I needed to relive that, to see those things, but the other part of me wants to scream at the world, call Tara every name in the fucking book, and just get wasted beyond belief. Apparently the third idea sounds like the best, so I head to the kitchen, take out a large rocks glass, and pour the bourbon in it until it reaches the brim. I decide that’s not quite enough, so once again, I bring the bottle to my lips and tilt my head back, the liquid pouring down until I’m practically coughing due to the sting of the bite.

With a grimace, I pound my chest, willing the burn to go away. I place the bottle in the freezer then pick up the rocks glass. Just as I’m about to leave the room, my eyes spot Lucy’s note and the sonogram, both of which I swoop up in one blundering hand, nearly knocking them onto the ground before I can get a grip.

I head down the hall towards my room, walking as slowly as humanly possible so I don’t spill any of my drink, but it’s no use as my shoulder hits the wall and the amber liquid sloshes over onto my skin. Swearing under my breath, I finally make it to my room, and even though it feels like ages, I find myself next to my bed, where I set the glass down on my nightstand. I reverently place the note and the image on my pillow as I quickly undress until I’m in nothing but my boxer briefs. It’s a sweet relief, and I flop onto the bed.

It’s only at this point that I realize that my head’s swimming, and I lift it up and grab the glass, downing half its contents as if it’s some potion that will help me think more clearly when really it’s just going to do the opposite. When I lie back on my pillow, I feel the crinkling under my head. I shoot up and turn around, ready to combat whatever I just laid on. I laugh at my drunk self when I see that it’s just what I put there, and I swipe both papers up in my hand and settle back into bed, turning on my side.