"Pregnant?" Foster asks, with a croak in his voice. The others are quiet, maybe putting two and two together.
I nod, "Six months.” I look at them all, “I got pregnant sometime at the end of that summer. He was one of yours."
None of them says a word. I stay quiet, waiting for them to process it. I watch Foster’s face crumple in devastation as he looks back at Dominic's headstone.
My son? Why didn't you tell us?"
"I tried to the day I showed up on campus. I had taken the test the day before and hadn't told my parents yet. That didn’t go well."
I keep my tone flat and try not to lash out in anger. There’s no use in getting angry now. I still feel stupid for making that trip. Would things have turned out differently if I had just sent a simple text to each of them? Would the accident never happen? I've played this what-if game with myself many times over the years.
Cole breaks his silence, his voice hostile. "And you didn't think to try again? Not even a fucking text message or voicemail, just nothing until he was dead."
His anger triggers my own, and I stand to face them all. "I knew enough of your guys’ lives to know that an ex-girlfriend popping up with a baby would ruin any of your lives. You all washed your hands of me. You don’t get to judge my actions afterward.” I get into Cole’s face, poking my finger in his chest. “I was a girl you had known your entire fucking life, and you tossed me away. Our son would have just been another inconvenience.”
“Would you have ever told us?” Foster asks, standing now with the rest of us.
My anger deflates, replaced by the deep sadness I get from losing my baby, "Yes, of course. I was a teenager, and I was scared. You were all off pursuing your dreams, and I knew I could be ruining that for one of you three. I never wanted to kill your dreams."
"He wouldn't have ruined anything. Our son would have only made life better," Foster says with conviction, pulling me into his arms.
The tears have been steadily streaming down my face, but that makes me sob. I collapse, and Foster takes my weight effortlessly. His tears touch my face..
“I need to get the fuck out of here, “Cole says and stomps his way back to his car, the one they all rode in.
Talon, who has been quiet this whole time, steps behind me and lays a hand on my back. "I know apologizing can’t change anything, but I am deeply sorry you went through all that alone. I should have—no, we should have been with you every step of the way. " He turns and follows Cole back to the car.
Foster gives me a squeeze. “Are you okay? Do you want me to drive you home?”
I shake my head, “No, I’m going to stay for a bit. I’m sure you all want to talk.”
“He looks me over and gently kisses my forehead before going back to the other guys. I kneel again as I hear their car pull away.
After I get back from the cemetery, I shut myself in my room for the rest of the day to avoid them all. I feel too raw to tackle an emotional talk with any of them. My brain has bounced from going completely blank to playing the what-if game, making me relive my worst memories. It's been a fun ride. I know this isn't healthy, and I promise myself that I’ll get out of bed and deal with it tomorrow.
I’m surprised they have all stayed away, except for the occasional text for proof of life. Foster left me some Chinese food on the stove and let me know they would vacate the kitchen so I could eat it. He makes it difficult not to fall in love with him.
A knock on the door drags me away from my spiraling thoughts. I say nothing, but the door opens anyway, and Foster walks in. Of course, it's him, always taking care of me. He makes me smile.
"Hey, pretty girl, I brought you something. I need you to sit up for me."
I oblige without a word, eager to see what he has. He hands me a pint of ice cream and a spoon.
"Thanks." I open the container and dig in. Foster takes a tentative seat on the bed next to me. When I don't move to kick him out, he settles in next to me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him around a spoonful of fudge brownie goodness.
That’s fine,” he says. “Just know that I can never express how sorry I am for how I acted then. It was not a good time in my life, but that’s not an excuse.” He lets out a harsh breath and looks miserable.
“I forgive you,” I say, and he looks up at me with surprise written all over his face. “I’ve held onto this shit for years, and I can’t do it anymore. I want to move past all of it. And here I am talking about it.”
I take another bite and moan at how good it tastes.
“You’re killing me,” Foster grunts.
We’re quiet as I finish off the container. He takes it from me and stands to take it downstairs.
“Cole was so angry with me. Is he okay?”
