Avery fell asleep hours ago, and all I can do is stare at the ceiling.
Trying to figure this out.
I spent most of the night holding her as she cried and then we tried to watch TV, but it was obvious neither of us could pay attention. Both of us were so lost in our thoughts. It just seems so crazy to me. All of it. I mean, yeah, we are pregnant. I’ve got that. But she seems so adamant about the abortion. Like it’s the only option, but is it? I agree giving the baby away is something I couldn’t do either. I know at first glance I would love it just as much as I love its mother. So that’s off the table. But I don’t believe in abortion.
I just don’t.
Lucy was eighteen when she got pregnant with Angie. She didn’t even consider getting rid of my niece. Instead, she got married. Yeah, it ended badly, but not because of her. Because of the douche. Of course it’s sucked and she’s struggled, but she’s happy. She loves her baby and I…I…can’t do this.
But it isn’t my body.
I’m not the one who would carry the child for nine months, who would be Mommy. I’m just Daddy. Am I being naïve here? Can we do this? I have no money—a little saved up from my dad and the ten hours a week I work at the coffee shop. But soon I’ll sign a damn good contract, and then I can take care of her and our child. She could still live her dreams; we’d figure it out, but can I get her to see that?
And then can I even guarantee it will work?
Fuck.
This is too much.
When she stirs against me, rolling onto her back, I look over at her. I can’t help it, I smile. She’s knocked the hell out, probably from crying most of the night. Her lips are parted, drool sliding down the side of her mouth. She’s so beautiful, and as I stare at her, I know she would make a great mom. Yeah, she comes from crap, but she would never treat her children like that. I’ve seen her firsthand with Angie. I know, but does she? Doesn’t she realize she could be the best mom in the world?
Abortion is not the answer for us.
But how do I tell her that?
I close my eyes, my lip trembling as my hand slides onto her flat stomach. I can’t feel anything. I mean, how could I? But one day I would be able to, because my baby is in there. When I look to where my hand rests, the tears start to fall because I’m supposed to stand back and let this happen. Sliding down the bed, I rest my head on her chest, and her hands come up to hold me instinctively. Looking at where her belly lies so flat, I choke back a sob and close my eyes. If this was the right thing to do, wouldn’t it feel like it? Wouldn’t I know? Because what I feel, what I know, is that I want to hold this baby. I don’t think I can stand back and let her do this.
This may be her body, but this is my baby too.
And I can’t let this happen.
But how do I tell her that?
Earlier, I just stared at her. Cried, frozen and speechless as she looked at me, wanting something other than what I could give her. I froze, my bad, but damn it, this isn’t right.
Right?
I’m suffocating.
I need to know I’m not insane.
That I can make this work.
I don’t even really realize what I’m doing until I get up, climbing out of the bed and sliding my feet into my shoes as I throw on a hoodie. Opening the door, hoping I don’t wake Markus or Avery, I shut it and then shoot up the stairs and out into the cold air. Sucking in a deep breath, I look up at the sky and shake my head.
And I know what I have to do.
Soon, I’m full out running to my car, ignoring the burn in my chest or the way my shoes are rubbing on the backs of my ankles.
By the time I pull into my mom’s driveway, I realize I didn’t think this through. The house is pitch black. I really don’t want to wake anyone, but I need to talk to my sister. She’ll tell it the way it is. My mom will sugarcoat it, Jude and Jayden will freak, and my dad, um, no. Lucy, though, she’ll give me the truth even if I don’t like it. I just hope the truth is what I’m thinking because I think I’ve got my mind set.
Parking behind her car, I jump out and walk around the house, dialing her number. “Jace?” she answers sleepily. “What’s wrong?”
“Hey, open your window.”
“Huh?”
I knock on her window. “Open your window.”