by Elle Kennedy
But none of that had succeeded in ridding me of the fear clinging to my throat.
Now the fear is even worse, for a whole other reason.
“Beau is dead?” My heart pounds dangerously fast. I’m scared it’s going to give out on me.
I’m scared of the grief I see in Tucker’s eyes.
“Yes. He’s gone, darlin’.”
I can’t understand it. I can’t. Beau is Briar’s starting quarterback. Beau is my friend. Beau’s dimples always pop out when he’s flashing you a particularly naughty grin. Beau is…
Dead.
A car accident, apparently. His father survived but Beau died.
The tears I’ve been fighting spill over and stream down my cheeks in salty rivulets. I try to breathe between sobs, but it’s hard, and eventually I’m hyperventilating. That’s when Tucker wraps me up in a warm, tight embrace.
“Breathe,” he whispers into my hair.
I try, I really do, but the oxygen isn’t getting in.
“Breathe.” Firmer this time, and his hands are moving up and down my back in comforting sweeps.
I manage to take a breath, and then another, and another, until I’m not feeling quite so dizzy. The tears are still falling, though. And my chest feels like someone sliced it open and is poking it with a hot blade.
“He’s…” I gulp. “…was. He was such a good guy, Tuck.”
“I know.”
“He was good and young and he shouldn’t be dead,” I say fiercely.
“I know.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
Tucker holds me tighter. I burrow against him until there’s nowhere left to go. His strong, solid body is the anchor I need right now. It allows me to cry and curse and rail at the world, because I know Tuck is here, listening to me and steadying me and reminding me to breathe.
A loud knock causes both of us to jump.
“Keep it down in there,” comes Ray’s horrible voice. “‘The hell am I s’posed to watch the game if I can hear you bawling all the way from the living room? You on the rag or somethin’?”
A strangled sob flies out of my mouth. Oh God. Nothing like an interruption from Ray to highlight what an emotional mess I am—an emotional mess who isn’t having her period. Because she’s goddamn pregnant.
My breathing grows shallow again.
Tucker keeps stroking my back as he answers my stepfather. “If you can’t hear the TV, turn up the volume,” he calls tightly.
There’s a beat, then, “Is that you, jock boy? Didn’t realize Rina had company.”
“We walked right past him when you let me in,” Tucker mutters to me.
Yeah, we had. But Ray’s drunker than usual tonight. He spent the whole day at a sports bar with his buddies, getting loaded while they watched the afternoon football games.
“He could barely walk in a straight line when he got home this evening,” I mutter back.
Ray pipes up again, slurring like crazy. “Mus’ not be too good in the sack if you’re making the bitch cry!”
I grab Tucker’s arm before he can stand up. “Ignore him,” I whisper. Then I raise my voice and address Ray. “Go watch your game. We’ll keep it down.”
After another beat, his footsteps thump away.
Tears stain my face as I nestle against Tucker again. “W-will you…” I clear my aching throat. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Not even a question,” he murmurs before dropping a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m here for as long as you need me, baby.”
20
Tucker
The stadium is a sea of black and silver. Thousands of people are in attendance, and a good number of them wear Briar football jerseys beneath their unzipped coats. Those who aren’t wear the school colors.
On the field, a large stage has been raised, where Beau’s teammates and family sit. Alumni flew in from all over the country to honor our fallen quarterback. Kids who didn’t even know Beau are here. Faces are somber and the mood is subdued.
It’s fucking awful.
I’m sitting in the bleachers behind the home bench, with Garrett on my left. Hannah’s beside him, then Logan and Grace, then Allie—who’s alone.
Dean has been a total mess this week. He’s in a destructive spiral, skipping practices and locking himself in his room, drunk out of his mind most of the time. The other night he got so high that he passed out on the living room couch, half his body on the cushions, the other sprawled on the floor. Logan carried him upstairs while Allie trailed after them, near tears.
I keep wanting to reassure Allie that Dean will get through this, but honestly, my mind has been all over the place this week.
The reason for my anguish is sitting on my other side. I don’t think Garrett and the others even realize Sabrina’s here—their gazes are fixed on the field, where a huge projection screen is showing highlights from Beau’s four years at Briar University. Actually, make that five years. Beau redshirted his freshman year, so this is technically his fifth year. Was his fifth year. Lord, it’s hard to remember that he’s actually gone.
It’s cold out, so the sleeve of my bulky coat kind of disguises that I’m clutching Sabrina’s hand. I want to put my arm around her, kiss her cheek, hold her close, but I don’t think Beau’s memorial is the time to be announcing our relationship to the world. It’s surreal to me, though, that the girl next to me is pregnant with my child and nobody has a clue.
We haven’t spoken about the baby at all. I don’t know if Sabrina is planning on scheduling a procedure. Hell, for all I know she’s already gone through with it. I’d like to think that she’d include me if and when the time comes, but she’s been so distant this week. Beau’s death hit her hard. And witnessing what it’s done to Dean makes me even more hesitant to push Sabrina to talk, not when she’s dealing with the loss of a friend.
A quiet sob sounds from a few seats over. It’s Hannah. The choked noise alerts me to the fact that the slideshow of Beau’s life has ended. His older sister Joanna is rising from her seat.
I tense up, because I know things are about to get even more heartbreaking.
Joanna’s a beautiful woman, with a chin-length dark bob and blue eyes like Beau’s. Those eyes are so lifeless right now. Her face is haunted. So are the faces of her parents.
In her simple black dress, she sinks onto the bench of a black grand piano on the other side of the stage. I was wondering about the piano, and now I have my answer. Joanna Maxwell was a music major when she went to Briar, landing a job on Broadway right after graduation. Hannah says she’s an incredible singer.
I wince as microphone feedback screeches through the stadium.
“Sorry,” Joanna murmurs, then adjusts the mic and leans closer. “I don’t think many of you know this, but my brother was actually a pretty good singer. He wouldn’t dare to sing in public, though. He had his bad boy reputation to maintain, after all.”
Laughter ripples through the bleachers. It’s eerie combined with the wave of grief hanging over us.
“Anyway, Beau was a big music buff. When we were little, we would sneak into our dad’s den and mess around with his record player.” She sheepishly glances at her father. “Sorry you’re just finding that out now, Daddy. But I swear we didn’t break into the liquor cabinet.” She pauses. “At least not until we were older.”
Mr. Maxwell shakes his head ruefully. Another wave of laughter washes through the stands.
“We loved listening to the Beatles.” She adjusts the mic again and poises her fingers over the ivory keys. “This was Beau’s favorite song, so—” Her voice cracks. “—I thought I would sing it for him today.”
My heart aches as the first strains of “Let It Be” fill the stadium. Sabrina clutches my hand tighter. Her fingers are like ice. I squeeze them, hoping to warm her up, but I know mine are equally cold.
By the time Joanna finishes singing, there isn’t a dry eye in the bleachers. I’m rapidly blinking back tears
, but eventually I give up and let them stream down my cheeks without wiping them away.
Afterward, Joanna gracefully rises from the piano bench and rejoins her parents. Then come the speeches, and the tears only fall harder. Coach Deluca gets behind the podium and talks about what a talented player Beau was, his dedication, his strength of character. A few of his teammates speak, making us laugh again with stories about Beau’s shenanigans in the locker room. Beau’s mom thanks everybody for coming, for supporting her son, for loving him.
I feel ravaged when the memorial finally reaches its conclusion.
Sorrow thickens the air as people shuffle out of their seats and make their way down the aisles. Sabrina releases my hand and walks ahead of me. Hope and Carin sandwich her between them like two mother hens, each one wrapping an arm around her shoulders as the trio descends the steps.
On the landing, I come up behind her and lean in to murmur in her ear. “Want me to come to Boston tonight?”
She gives a slight shake of her head, and disappointment and frustration flood my stomach. She must see it in my eyes, because she bites her lip and whispers, “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper back.
With my heart in my throat, I watch her walk away.
“What was that about?” Garrett appears beside me, focusing on Sabrina’s retreating back.
“Just offering my condolences,” I lie. “That’s Sabrina James—she used to date Beau.”
“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 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?”
