“Oh.” He frowns. “Dean’s Sabrina?”
My Sabrina.
I choke down another rush of frustration and offer a careless shrug. “I guess.”
I’m sick of this. So fucking sick of it. I want to tell my friends about Sabrina. I want to tell them about the baby and get their advice, but she made me promise not to say a word until we’d made a decision. Then again, if that decision results in no baby, there’d be no point in telling them anyway. What would I even say? I knocked someone up, but she had an abortion, so there’s nothing to talk about?
I swallow through my suddenly dry mouth. I have no idea how I got to this place. My friends tease me about being a Boy Scout, and truthfully I thought I had the “be prepared” thing down pat. But one careless mistake and now I might be a father. I’m twenty-two, for fuck’s sake.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Panic bubbles in my throat. I’m a patient guy. Rock solid. Good head on my shoulders. I want to have a family someday. I want kids and a wife and a dog and a goddamn picket fence. I want all that—someday.
Not today. Not nine months from now. Not—
You might not have a choice.
Christ.
“C’mon,” Garrett says, gently nudging me forward. “We’re all going back to the house.”
Swallowing my panic, I let my friends herd me out of the stadium and into the parking lot. I rode to campus with Garrett and Hannah, so I climb into the backseat of Garrett’s Jeep. Allie slides in beside me. The four of us don’t say a single word during the drive home.
The moment we walk through the front door, Allie hurries upstairs to Dean’s room. I still can’t believe he skipped out on Beau’s memorial, but I get the feeling Dean hasn’t experienced much loss in his life. I don’t think he knows how to handle it, and I find myself praying that Allie can get through to him.
The rest of us ditch our coats and boots and traipse into the living room. Hannah and Grace make some coffee, and we sit in silence for a while. It’s like we all have PTSD or something. We’ve lost a friend and can’t make sense of it.
Eventually, Garrett loosens his tie and then tugs it off, dropping it on the arm of the couch. With a weary sigh, he says, “Graduation is in a few months.”
Everyone nods, though I’m not sure if it’s in agreement or just a form of acknowledgment.
He glances around the living room, his expression going sad. “I’m going to miss this house.”
Yeah, me too. And I still have no idea where I’ll be in May. The plan was to move back to Texas, but there’s no way I can do that when there’s so much uncertainty between me and Sabrina. Granted, by May I’ll already have an answer about the baby. I looked it up online, so I know that if Sabrina chooses to have an abortion, her window will end in early March.
I swallow a strangled groan. God. I hate not knowing where I stand. Where we stand.
“I’m excited to go apartment hunting,” Hannah says, but despite her words, there isn’t a trace of excitement in her voice.
“We’ll find something great,” Garrett assures her.
She glances at Grace. “You guys are still looking for something halfway between Hastings and Providence?”
Grace nods and snuggles closer to Logan, who’s tenderly running his fingers through her long hair.
Envy ripples through me. They have no idea how lucky they are that they can actually make plans for their futures. Garrett’s agent is in negotiations with the Bruins, which means Garrett and Wellsy will be living in Boston once he signs with the team. Grace still has two more years at Briar, but Logan’s already signed with the Bruins’ farm team, so he’ll be playing in Providence until he’s hopefully called up to the pros.
And me? Who the fuck knows.
“Are you heading back to Texas right after graduation or sticking around for the summer?”
Logan’s question brings a knot of discomfort to my chest. “I’m not sure yet. It all depends on what kind of business opportunities there are.”
No, it all depends on whether my girlfriend is going to have my baby.
But the other thing is true too, I guess.
“I still think you should open a restaurant,” Hannah teases. “You could come up with fun Tucker-related names for all your dishes.”
I shrug. “Naah. I don’t want to be a chef. And I don’t want the stress of owning such a high-pressure business. Restaurants are constantly closing down—it’s too big of a risk.”
I plan on being careful with my dad’s insurance money. I’ve been saving it for years and I’m not sure I want to gamble it all on a restaurant. But it’s not like I have any other ideas, either.
I’d better come up with something, though—and fast. Graduation is looming. Real life is beckoning. My girl is pregnant. A million decisions need to be made, but at the moment, I’m in limbo.
I can’t make a single decision. Not until Sabrina makes the most important one of all.
21
Sabrina
February
There’s a bitter chill in the air as I walk down the snow-lined path in Boston Common. My gloved hands are buried in the pockets of my coat, and my red knit hat is pulled so low on my forehead it nearly covers my eyes.
It’s so cold out today. I suddenly regret suggesting that Tucker and I meet in the park. He wanted to meet at my house, but both Nana and Ray are home, and I couldn’t risk them eavesdropping on us and finding out about the pregnancy. I haven’t told them yet. I haven’t told anyone.
I assume Tucker is going to bring up the baby from the word go, but when I reach Brewer Fountain five minutes later, the first thing he says to me is, “I hate fountains.”
“Um. All right. Any particular reason why?”
“They don’t have much of a purpose.” Then he tugs me into his arms for a long hug, and I find myself sagging against him, clinging to his warm, solid body.
I haven’t seen him since Beau’s memorial. That was two weeks ago. Two weeks. I swear, John Tucker has the kind of patience I can only dream of having. He hasn’t bugged me to meet up. Hasn’t pushed me to talk about our situation. Hasn’t done anything but stand by and follow my lead.
“But they’re pretty,” I murmur in response to his remark.
His lips brush mine in a brief kiss. “Not as pretty as you.” And then he hugs me tighter and I try hard not to burst into tears.
I’m a hormonal mess lately. Constantly on the verge of sobbing, and I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or because I miss Tuck.
I miss him so fucking much it breaks my heart, but I don’t know what to say when I’m with him.
I don’t fucking know what to do.
The hug finally breaks up, and we both step back awkwardly. A dozen questions flicker in his expression, but he doesn’t voice a single one. Instead, he says, “Let’s walk. If we stay on the move, maybe we won’t freeze to death.”
Laughing again, I allow him to sling his arm around me, and we take off down the path, our boots crunching over the thin layer of snow beneath them.
“How are classes going?” he asks gruffly.
“Okay, I guess.” I’m lying. It’s not okay at all. I’m finding it impossible to concentrate on anything other than the subtle changes in my body. “You?”
He shrugs. “Not great. It’s been tough to focus ever since…” He trails off.
“Ever since this?” I gesture to my stomach.
“Yeah. And Beau too. Dean’s not doing too great, and there’s lots of tension in the house.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’ll get better,” is all he says.
God, I wish I had his faith. And his resilience. And his courage. I’m lacking all those things right now. Just the thought of opening my mouth and bringing up the pink or blue baby elephant in our vicinity makes me want to throw up. Or maybe that’s the morning sickness.
But as usual, Tucker doesn’t push the subject. He simply changes it. “Did you come here a lot when you were growing up?” He gestures at the beautiful display of nature all around us.
“When I was little,” I admit. “Back when it was just me and my mom and Nana, we’d come here every weekend. I learned how to skate on Frog Pond.”
He gives me a sidelong look. “You don’t talk about your mom much.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Resentment crawls up my throat. “She wasn’t around much. I mean, she used to make an effort when I was really young, up until I was six, maybe. But then the men in her life became more important than me.”
Tucker’s gloved hand squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“It is what it is.” I glance over at him. “You’re close with your mother, right?”
He nods. “She’s the best woman I know.”
Emotion clogs my throat. Tucker might’ve lost his dad at a young age, but obviously his mother did everything she could to make up for that. From what he’s told me, she worked her butt off so her son could have a good life. My own mother could take a few lessons from Mrs. Tucker. So could Nana.
“Our childhoods were so different,” I find myself saying.
“And yet we both grew up to be awesome people.”