What am I going to do? I’m not going to bring a baby into this fucked-up world to suffer being the product of a teenager mother with no future for herself. That’s what I’m not going to do.
“I’ll get it taken care of in the morning,” I whisper. I shut my eyes tight, and a tear runs down my cheek. Once again, I’m crying. I have never cried this much in my whole life. I feel her staring at me. “I have no other choice, Sloane. I never thought I would fall for Lachlan, but I have. He looks at me and doesn’t see a messed-up girl. He just sees me. This”—I clutch my stomach—“is going to destroy us. I can barely take care of myself. My mom’s useless. How could I ever have a baby? I don’t even like kids. I never wanted them!”
Sloane sits up and pulls me into a hug. “You made this situation together with him. You’re not in this alone,” she murmurs into my hair. “And I’m not just talking about Lachlan. You have choices. The first move is to tell him, though. You have to make this decision together.”
I pull away from her, and she wipes the tears from my face. She’s right, again. This involves Lachlan, too, and, as much as neither of us want this to break what we have together, he has a right to know.
I nod then lean on Sloane for another few minutes. I have to tell him. But, for the moment, I want to pretend nothing has changed…before everything changes.
Chapter EIGHTEEN
Lachlan
Trying to keep a low profile at school isn’t as easy as it sounds when you’re me. Nathan’s been out of school, and I haven’t seen or talked to him since the weekend. Unless he admits he was a complete asshole and begs for forgiveness, I don’t see myself speaking with him again.
In his absence, rumors fly ramped. Everyone, literally every person that attends my high school, has asked me what happened over the weekend. They all want to know where Nathan is and what went on between us. I did hear that Nathan made up some story about being jumped by a group of guys, but apparently no one is buying it.
Toward the end of the week, the whispers begin to diminish a tad and I’m somewhat relieved to be able to breathe again without the scrutiny.
The good feeling doesn’t stick, though. Sawyer’s been really sick, and I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She texted me Monday to tell me she was having Sloane take her home because she got sick in the washroom. When I tried to visit her that night, she wouldn’t even come to the door. Owen said she was asleep and would call me later.
When she eventually called, her voice sounded off. Her attempts at reassuring me she just didn’t feel well are useless. I know her better than she thinks I do and I can tell something is really wrong. I just don’t know if it’s me or her.
By the end of the week, when she’s still not at school, I corner Sloane in the parking lot just before she gets in her car.
“Sloane, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Her vision flickers over the parking lot before settling on mine. “Sure, what’s up?”
The way she plays with the keys in her hand does nothing to assure me what’s happening with Sawyer is just in my head. “How’s Sawyer doing?”
“What do you mean? You talk to her. She’s sick. Why? What did you hear?”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Nothing. I didn’t hear anything. And no, I don’t talk to her and I haven’t had a full conversation with her since the weekend.”
She looks everywhere to avoid looking at me. Weakness overcomes me, and I lean against her car for support. “Just tell me what’s going on, Sloane. I need to know if she’s okay. She has to be okay, so please, just tell me.”
She places her hand on my shoulder. “You’re right. You do need to know, but I can’t be the one to tell you her story. You should talk to her.”
“I’ve been trying all week. She won’t tell me anything. She just keeps saying she doesn’t feel good.”
I try to silently plead for her to tell me, but I already know she won’t. Girl code and all. If Sawyer told her not say anything, Sloane would never betray her best friend.
“Try to talk to her again.”
My cell phone rings, and I step away from her. I answer the call while I watch her get inside the car and leave the parking lot.
“Lachlan, good I got you before practice.”
“Hey, Aunt Claire. Everything all right?”
The line is silent for a deafening pause. “You need to come home right away.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Just come home, son.”
The line disconnects, and I’m left staring at the screen of my phone. As I make my way toward my car, I dial Sawyer’s number. She answers on the third ring.
“Babe, I’m so glad you answered. How do you feel? Better I hope.”
“I’m okay, I guess.” She lets out a long breath. “Lachlan, we need to talk. Can you come over?”
Of all the times she wanted to talk this week, she picks this moment. “Uh, actually, I have to run home first. Can I swing by afterward?”
“Why don’t we meet tonight, in the gazebo when the course closes? We can talk there.”
“Okay, it’s a date. I’ll see you tonight.” I make it to my car and slide inside. “I love you, Sawyer.”
I grip the steering wheel and with baited breath.
“Me, too, Lach.”
Ending the call, I let out a loud sigh. At least she’s willing to meet with me and talk about whatever the hell is going on. I put the car into drive and leave the lot, heading home to find out what’s going on there.
Both my aunt and uncle sit at the kitchen table, mugs of coffee in front of them. Aunt Claire has her head on her hands with the corner of a tissue sticking out.
They’ve both been crying, and I can tell it’s not good. I can’t remember the last time I saw Uncle Stanton cry. Actually, I don’t think I ever have.
I clear my throat when I get closer, and they both look up at the same time. My aunt stands from the table and rushes to me, embracing me firmly.
“Aunt Claire, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What’s going on?”
Uncle Stanton rises, walking to the back of his chair and pulling it out farther. “Have a seat, son. There’s something we have to tell you.”
Time is a cruel concept. It taunts you and tricks you. It can be your best friend, or your biggest enemy. Sometimes, both at once.
Twenty of the fastest minutes of my life pass while sitting at my aunt and uncle’s kitchen table. Hearing them relay information without really taking any of it in. Now, twenty of the slowest minutes pass while I wait for the golf course to close. I decide it’s been long enough, so I slide under the fence, onto the grounds, and make my way to the gazebo.
And I wait for her.
I wait with news that will rip us from each other.
I wait for my life to change.
She comes into view, and the sight of her is enough to bring me to my knees. The sight of perfection and love.
“Hey, you,” I greet her softly. I don’t wait for her to say anything back. I close the distance between us and slide my hand behind her neck in a swift move, bringing my mouth to hers. There’s a desperation in our kiss which intensifies the air. We both cling to each other, as if knowing what our future holds.
I break our embrace and run my thumb along her jaw before dropping my hand and turning away.
How the hell am I supposed to tell her? I can’t do this.
“Lachlan, what’s going on with you? Is everything okay?”
I rest against the railing and grip the edges, trying to summon the courage or find the right words. There aren’t any. “I don’t think you understand how lucky you are to have this place. A reminder of a happier time in your life. Even if it was just one good memory. I’m beginning to forget all of my memories from my childhood. I’ll never forget the day my mom left, though. I was so sure things would be better after she left. I thought if it was just me and my dad, I could help him. Then maybe my mom would see we could be happy together agai
n and she would come back so we could be a family. After she died, it was so much worse. Every day that passed was another day I thought I would become an orphan. We had no food in the house, no water or electricity because my dad didn’t pay any of the bills. He didn’t speak one word to me for months. Deep down, a part of me thought I would never see him again when he drove me to the airport.”
“Lachlan, did something happen with your dad? Did he call you?”
“You know I love you, right?” I pull her against me and kiss her once more. Brushing the hair away from her face, I hold her cheeks in my hands. “Please tell me you know I love you, Sawyer.”
I rest my forehead on hers and close my eyes. Her entire body trembles, and I think she knows where this is leading.
“Sawyer, I have to go.”
She shakes her head, lip quivering.
“He died. My father died this morning of a heart attack…. I have to go home and deal with things in Australia.”
She stares at me, eyes filling with water. Her knees buckle, and we both collapse onto the wooden flooring.
She cries hard and loud, rocking. Heavy tears race down her cheeks, and, with every drop that falls, part of my heart chips away. “I’m so sorry he’s gone. I really and truly am sorry for your loss. But, you can’t leave me.”
“Sawyer, I’m all that’s left. I have to go. Please, don’t hate me. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I won’t be gone forever. Once everything is settled there, I’m coming back to you.”
She pulls from my embrace, anger replacing her tear-filled eyes. “He abandoned you, Lach. He shipped you here and didn’t bother to contact you once. And now you’re going to do the same thing? You’re going to abandon the people who love you?”
“He’s my dad, Sawyer.” I shake my head, unable to sympathize with her anger. I expected her to be upset that I would have to leave, but I never thought she would lash out. “I have to go.”
She wipes her face and stands. “When do you leave?”
“My uncle and I are leaving tonight. In a few hours.”
She spins around, hair flying with her. Like how it fanned around her when we danced in this very spot.
I stand up and step in front of her, holding trembling hands. “I want to remember us this way. You and me in our place. When you’re here, I want you to think of me, too. If you miss me, you can come here and I’ll be waiting for you.”
I kiss her forehead then place my lips on every tear trickling down her skin. “Please don’t hate me, Sawyer,” I beg in a whisper. “It won’t be forever. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She pulls away slightly, and I realize why we made plans to meet here. “Wait, what’s been going on with you, babe? Why are you so sick?”
“I’m not. I wanted to meet with you to tell you…. I’m okay. Just go, Lachlan. Go do what you need to do.”
My cell phone rings, and I take it out of my back pocket to look at who’s calling. It’s my uncle.
I kiss her lips once more, hard and deep. Committing everything about the way she smells and tastes to memory.
“I’m coming back for you. I love you and always will. I’ll be back.”
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, nods and let’s go of my hands, taking a step back.
Then I leave.
Chapter NINETEEN
Sawyer
I’m not sure how long I stay in the godforsaken gazebo. I envision burning it to the ground. Imagine the lacquer igniting with a flick of my lighter. Smoke consuming me until it brings me to my knees, just as Lachlan did.
He left. He walked away from me. From us.
The only boy I will ever love.
The unknowing father of our child.
I had every intention of telling him about the baby. It took me all week to figure out what I wanted and to find the right words. One look at him when I got here tonight and my world vanished from beneath me. I couldn’t tell him when he said he was leaving. How cliché is that? Telling the guy who is leaving you that you’re pregnant. Would he have even believed me? Would it have made a difference? Maybe he would have asked me to go to Australia with him. It’s too late. I’d rather not know how he would have reacted if he had known.
It’s dark.
I wander from the gazebo to my Jeep. My trance takes me around town before I pull into the driveway of a still house. My home. A home which never felt how a home should feel. I can’t even recall arriving here.
Sticking the key in the front door, I realize it’s not locked. Why would it be? No one will come in. No one wants to be here. I look around the foyer, living room, and a part of the kitchen, consumed with hatred. It simmers inside, making me drunk. I can’t think straight.
A sharp pain strikes my lower abdomen, and I clench my stomach, sinking to the floor. The pain is so intense, I can’t catch my breath.
Something’s wrong.
Tightening my hold on my torso, I curve into the fetal position and weep myself dry, sucking tiny breaths in between stabs of agony.
When my tears subside and the pain subsides, I ignore the blood trickling down my inner thighs and limp into my mother’s bedroom. A half-empty bottle of vodka beckons me from the nightstand, as well as a bottle of sleeping pills. What a beautiful combination—peanut butter and jelly.
Taking one glance around, I notice a picture resting on the tall dresser with a broken, crooked drawer. With the vodka and pills pressed to my side, I pick up the frame with the other hand and stare at the people inside. Smiles sealed behind glass forever. Four fake smiles, two lying adults, and two unfortunate children who were brought into a dreadful life. I let the fake family slip from my grasp and shatter on the hardwood.
My stupor continues as I stagger into my bedroom and collapse onto the middle of the floor. I open each bottle, placing the lids on the floor, and set them both in front of me with their labels turned away from view.
So help me God, another innocent child will not be brought into this cruel, unrelenting world.
Sawyer? Oh…oh my God! Call an ambulance!
Please wake up…. Sawyer?
What did you do?
We have a heartbeat….
Look what she’s done…. You two are both pathetic…. Nothing but trouble since birth.
Get out of my house….
We’ll be out in a month….
Has she experienced drug abuse before?
Complications due to the amount of toxins consumed….
Will they be okay?
One year
Two years
Four years
Six years later…
Chapter TWENTY
Lachlan
Placing a last box of my things on the passenger seat of my Skylark, I close the door and inhale a breath of the campus I’ve lived on for the past few years. I never thought I would actually miss this place. For the first few months, I isolated myself from everyone and everything. I was determined to graduate with my degree and get my life back.
That was the agreement after all.
If it wasn’t for some really great friends and a way too nosy roommate, I would have never opened myself up while serving my time here.
Life would have moved a lot slower if I’d continued to shut myself out.
A slap on my shoulder jerks me from my memories. “Aye, mate. Looks like this it is, eh?”
My roommate, Charlie, has overplayed my accent since the first day we met. It’s actually how he set me free from myself. I’d spent weeks ignoring him, and everyone else. But my attitude never deterred him from continually speaking in a horrible fake accent every day
Every. Damn. Day.
Finally, I’d snapped and pinned him to the wall with my forearm pressed firmly against his neck. Said if he ever used an accent again, I would make sure it was the last time he spoke.
He responded in an accent.
For some reason, his goofiness calmed me. I actually laughed for the first time in months. He settled my nerves, l
owered my rage, and, from then on, we were friends.
“Charlie, who the hell is going to annoy me as much as you have over the last few years?”
“Oh, there’s no replacing me. That’s for sure. So, it looks like you’re just going to have to keep in touch when you get back to your aunt and uncle’s place. How long you staying there for again, mate?”
The thought of being in Woodsview turns my stomach. Even if I’m just passing through.
“Hopefully not long. I’m meeting a realtor next week.”
Charlie smiles and opens his arms. We bro-hug and pat each other’s backs. He pulls away, still keeping his hands on my shoulders. “Listen mate, whatever happened in your town, maybe it’s best to face those demons before you move on and start your new life.”
He always knew there was a lot about my life I didn’t share. One night, after a party where I drank way too much, I’d let it slip that I missed her. I’d have given anything to go back to Woodsview and have her in my arms after waiting for all those years I let slip through my fingers like sand. When he questioned my ranting’s the following morning, I said I didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew well enough to leave it alone.
“Thanks for everything, Charlie. I mean it. I couldn’t have gotten through the last few years without you.”
With Cal State in my rearview mirror, and my degree in my passenger seat, I head down the coastline, dreading my destination.
A few hours later, I drive past the Welcome to Woodsview sign and my body shudders.
There was a time, six years ago, where I’d given anything to be here.
Those six years are gone. And time hasn’t been pleasant.
I pull into my aunt and uncle’s driveway, and, in true fashion, they rush out of the house to greet me. They’re the one constant in my life. No matter what chaos stirs around me, they’re always there.
Six Years Gone (Gone #1) Page 13
