The Senior (College Years 4)

“Okay. I can do that. I’ll hop in the shower real quick.” I’m already climbing out of bed.

“Eli?”

I pause. “Yeah?”

“You need to be strong right now. For Ava. For the both of you. She was so upset. Crying, asking for you earlier. You need to be here for her, and not make this about you. She’s gone through something that was very traumatizing to her. She’s going to need you now more than ever,” Fable explains.

“I will be there for her,” I tell her. “I promise.”

I go through the motions of getting ready for my day, as if it’s another regular day. I take a shower. Brush my hair, brush my teeth. Don’t bother shaving. Get dressed. Check myself out in the mirror, reminding myself that everything’s changed.

Just like when Ava told me what…a week ago? It’s changed again. It’s back to the way it was.

Does that mean Ava and I are going back to the way we were? Broken up and about to go our separate ways? Will she go to San Diego? Leave me behind?

No way.

I can’t even stomach the thought.

Not bothering with breakfast, I wait in my room for the text from Ava’s mom. I don’t go out to the living room either. I don’t want to see Caleb and have to explain to him what happened to Ava, and what’s going on.

I’m not sure of the exact details myself. How can I explain it to someone else? And I definitely don’t want to see everyone’s pity. Their sadness. I can’t deal.

I don’t want to deal.

I need Ava—right now. I need to talk to her and make sure everything’s going to be okay. I want to hold her in my arms and tell her I love her and that nothing is going to change. I still need her in my life.

She’s still mine.

A sigh leaves me and I shake my head, cradling my head in my hands and closing my eyes. She told me not to tell anyone and I should’ve listened to her. Now we’ll have to explain to our friends what happened.

And that’s going to be painful.

When the text comes, I nearly jump out of my skin. I leave the apartment in a hurry, grateful I don’t run into Caleb. I hop in my car and groan when I start the engine. I need to get gas.

Damn it. Of course I do.

I stop at a gas station on my way out of Fresno and fill up, impatient as shit, hating how slow it feels. How long it takes. The moment the gas pump clicks, I’m putting everything away and getting the hell out of there. I race up the highway, my lead foot in action. Every passing lane I’m zooming past cars, grumbling under my breath when I get behind a slow car. Throwing caution to the wind because I’m hellbent on getting to my girl.

By the time I’m pulling in front of her house, I’m a wreck. My insides feel as if they’re twisted around each other and my palms are sweaty. My stomach cramps with nerves as I walk up the front porch and I almost want to collapse when I ring the doorbell.

Fable Callahan answers it almost immediately, and I realize in this moment she looks so much like Ava, my knees almost buckle. This is what my girl will look like when she’s older. Just a little taller. Blonde and beautiful with those bottomless green eyes.

“Eli,” she says, opening her arms to me.

I walk into her embrace and clutch her to me, my face in her hair, my eyes falling closed. She rubs her hands up and down my back, offering me comfort like a mom should. I think of my own mother, how I haven’t talked to her since Ava told me the news. How my mother doesn’t even know she was a grandma.

Even if only for a few days.

Fable pulls away from me, her hands grabbing hold of mine. “Don’t look so stressed. Ava is fine.”

“Is she really?” I sound skeptical because, come on. She’s probably not okay at all.

“She’s doing as well as one would after losing a baby. It’s hard no matter how many weeks along you are.” Her faint smile turns rueful. “I lost a baby in between Ava and Beck.”

“You did?” I want to see Ava, but I appreciate her mom’s offer of comfort and reasoning too. It’s more than I’ll get from anyone else right now.

“Yes.” She nods. “I was about eight weeks, just like Ava. It was tough. The experience tore Drew up, but the beautiful thing of it all, is we were blessed with Beck a few years later.”