I ran all the way to my apartment.

Please God let her be there.

Jamming my keys into the door lock, I gave them a quick twist and shoved the door open so hard it slammed into the wall, busting a hole through the drywall. “Maddie!” When I stepped inside, I instantly knew she was gone. Still, I ran through the entire place, checking each room.

Fuck!

Sliding my hands through my hair, I leaned over and bellowed as loud as I could. “Goddamn it!” My entire body shook as I spun in circles looking for any sign that she was coming back. There weren’t any.

This couldn’t be fucking happening. It just couldn’t!

But it was.

“What have I done?”

Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I quickly dialed Shelby’s number. I paced as I waited for her to answer. Back and forth. Back and forth. She answered on the third ring. “Did you find her?”

My voice was rough to my own ears. “No.”

“Shit!” I continued to pace as she started to freak out. “What do we do now?”

I didn’t know. I shook my head, trying to think. “Does she have anybody else? Any friends? Ex-boyfriends?” Bile churned in the pit of my stomach at the thought of her being with another man.

“No!” Shelby sounded as panicked as I did. “The only people she talks to work at the shelter.” Her voice shook. “None of them have seen or heard from her.”

Goddamn it!

I spun around towards the kitchen. "Do you know if she—" Something on the counter caught my attention. "What the…?" Shelby was shrieking through the phone, but I had no idea what she was saying. Ignoring her, I moved towards the stack of papers and… Wait. Was that a locket?

Picking up the necklace, I wrapped it around my finger and let it rest on my palm. It was Maddie’s. What the fuck? Dropping the locket back onto the countertop, I picked up the first sheet of paper. I recognized my girls' handwriting right away. “Shelby I’ll call you back in a minute.”

She screeched. “What?”

I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “I’ll call you back.” I hung up.

Turning around, I leaned back against the counter.

Then, I started to read.

Hendrix,

I thought this was our second chance. Don’t get me wrong, even after your confession, I had my doubts about trusting you, but only because losing you once almost killed me. I knew I wouldn’t survive if it happened again. But it wasn’t my lack of trust in you that tore us apart in the end. It was my secrets. I know that, and I accept full responsibility for it.

I just wish I’d never had to keep our son a secret to begin with. I mean, I didn’t try to keep him from you. I didn’t. In fact, I tried every day for over four months to get a hold of you. I called nonstop. I texted. I emailed. I even left messages for Pop at the station. Still, you never returned any of my calls. When it became impossible to hide the pregnancy, I knew I had to do something. I wasn't ashamed of being pregnant, but I wasn't prepared to tell Daddy and Grandmama until I'd told you. So, I did the only thing I could think of—I withdrew from Vanderbilt and moved away. Luckily, I had Hope—I'm sure you remember her—to help me every step of the way. Her family lives right outside of Memphis and they were kind enough to take me in when I had nowhere else to go. They even helped me enroll in online courses so I could work on my degree while I was pregnant.

I got a job working as a cashier at a large department store, and even though I was exhausted most of the time, I was happy. I was still heartbroken that I didn't have you, but I still had a little part of you growing inside of me. It made things more bearable.

After I hit the five-month mark things started to fly by. I bought a crib, a car seat, and the cutest baby clothes you’ve ever seen. I was excited, and I’d finally gathered the courage to call home and tell Grandmama and Daddy what was going on. At that point, they still didn't know I was pregnant. They just thought I withdrew from college because I needed a change after you dumped me. They weren't happy about it, but there was nothing they could do since I was legally considered an adult. Anyway, I called home on a Friday afternoon, and after getting reamed out for a variety of reasons, Daddy let it slip that you were graduating from the Academy the following day. I was so happy for you, Hendrix. And even though you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, I still wanted to see you graduate.

I made arrangements to get off work and borrowed Mrs. Peterson’s (Hope’s mom) car and drove back to Garrison early the next morning. When I made it to the town hall where the ceremony was taking place I was so scared that someone would recognize me. So, I waited until everyone else went inside and I stood outside the doors and listened.

I didn’t see you graduate, but I heard them call your name. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Still is.

As you can imagine, I was really upset on the drive back to Memphis. I think I cried the entire way (big surprise there, right?). When I turned off the interstate, I saw a sign for a local ice cream shop. Needing to feel close to you, I pulled into the drive-thru. All I could think about was all the times you brought me a chocolate dipped cone when you got off work. Silly as it sounds, it made me feel special. Made me feel loved. So that day, I ordered a large chocolate cone. You weren't there with me, but for a moment, I was transported back to a time when things were simpler; back to a time when you still loved me.

But eating that stupid ice cream cone was the biggest mistake I ever made.

A mistake that cost our son his life.

A week or so after returning to Memphis, I started to feel sick. At first, I thought it was the flu (and so did my doctor) because a lot of the symptoms were the same. I had a fever, muscle aches/cramps, nausea and a headache that wouldn’t go away. Well, after a few more days the symptoms only got worse. One morning I woke up and my neck was so stiff I couldn't turn it. And when I climbed out of bed, my balance was so off I nearly fell in the floor.

That's when I knew something was wrong.

Mrs. Peterson called an ambulance because I couldn’t walk, but it was already too late. After arriving at the ER, I was told that I had listeria. It likely came from the ice cream cone I’d eaten a week before. Apparently dangerous bacteria can breed in the tubing of soft serve ice cream machines if they aren't cleaned properly. I just happened to find one of those machines. The doctors did all they could, but the listeria had already crossed the placenta and infected our little guy. Less than forty-eight hours after I was admitted to the hospital, our son was born. I was only twenty-six weeks pregnant. His lungs weren't developed, and he was small (even for a baby the same gestational age), not to mention the fact that he was sick.

He only lived a total of seven hours, but they were the most memorable seven hours of my life.

I never got to hold him while he was alive, never got to nurse him, but they let me touch his face through the arms holes in the side of his incubator as he passed away. Once he was gone, I was allowed to hold him for a couple of hours before a nurse came and took him away.

Losing him was the most painful thing I’ve ever had to endure. It hurt even worse than losing you. I’ve never recovered from it.

Now, I don’t think I ever will.

I’m sorry that you never got to meet him. I wish you would’ve. I know you would have loved him as much as me. How could you not? After all, he was part me and part you.

I swear to you he was the most beautiful thing in the world. Look for yourself. His picture is beside yours in my locket. It's the only one that I have. I wish I could have taken more, but it wasn't allowed.

After he died, I threw myself into school and work. I couldn't save our baby, and I couldn't save you, so I was determined to save others. The broken. The abandoned. The abused. It's why I became a social worker.

Mrs. Peterson had some contacts at the shelter in Toluca. Yes, the same one where I work now. She ended up putting in a good word for me, and I got hired about two months after our son was born. I moved to Toluca, and at the insistence of the shelter manager, I moved into the small apartment on the top floor. It’s where I stayed for the next five years.

About a year ago, Debra (the former manager) retired and I took her place. The rest is history.

Anyway, I thought you deserved an explanation from me—even if it is a crappy one. I know you don’t ever want to see my face again, and I know you’ll probably move on with ease, but I needed you to know that I didn’t keep him from you on purpose. I was just a scared kid who grew into being a terrified woman. I only hope that you can forgive me one day. I guess I should end this now because I've said almost all there is to say. Just do me a favor handsome. No matter how you feel about me, please don't ever forget that I love you with every piece of my broken heart.

Love you now, forever, and always.

Your Pretty Girl

XOXO

My breath came in short, quick pants, and my heart beat thundered in my ears. What the fuck had I done? I had no idea, no goddamn idea!

Laying Maddie’s letter face down on the countertop, I picked up the second sheet of paper. It was a birth certificate. My son’s birth certificate. It listed his name, Sean David Cole, his birthdate, January twenty-seventh, and both my and Maddie’s names.

My hands shook as I then picked up the stack of papers lying beneath the locket. There about fifty sheets altogether, and they were held together by a small paper clip in the upper left-hand corner. I didn’t realize what they were at first, but after seeing the dates and each coinciding message beside it, it hit me.

They were Maddie’s cell phone records.

Every call and every text—hundreds of them spanning over a four-month period—were right there in black and white for me to see.

Maddie hadn't lied. She'd tried—she'd tried so goddamn hard—to get a hold of me, but it was during the time that I was ignoring her because Petrov was watching me. She'd tried to tell me, but I hadn't bothered to answer the phone or read a single fucking text!

Jesus fucking Christ.

Once again, this was all my fault.

I picked up the second stack of papers. This stack was thicker and was held together by a large rubber band. I slipped the band off and started to read. I only made it past the first three pages before I pulled my arm back and sent every single sheet flying.

I spun around. “Goddamn it!” She’d even kept the emails she sent me. From the looks of it, she’d sent hundreds, probably around three or four a day, and like the calls and text, I hadn’t read one!

I deserved to die.

Deserved to die painfully and slowly.

I’d abandoned the only person who’d ever loved me—just like my mother abandoned me—and when she tried to tell me, tried to explain, I’d ripped her to pieces.

The shit I’d said…

For fuck's sake, I made her leave and told her that we were over. I’d told her that I didn’t love her and that she didn’t exist for me anymore.

I was worse than Pop!

Spinning back around, I picked up the locket. My heart pounded in my chest as I pressed two fingers against the seam and opened it up. The first picture I saw was one of me. I couldn’t remember when or where it was taken, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care about that picture. I only cared about the one beside it.

My gaze moved to the left, and my eyes landed on my son for the very first time.

Sean David Cole.

My legs gave out, and my knees hit the floor.

Then, like the little bitch that I am, I started to cry. “Fuck.” I clasped the locket tightly in my hand. “I’m so sorry, baby.” I ran my free hand through my hair, grasping at the strands and pulling—hard. “I’m so goddamn sorry.” Dropping my hand, I ran my finger over the small picture. “I should’ve never left,” a sob tore from my throat, “I should’ve found another way…” Lifting my hand, I sank my teeth into my knuckles and screamed—loud. “I should have been there,” my entire body jerked, “should’ve taken care of your mama,” I paused and blew out a breath, “should’ve taken care of you!”

Softly shutting the locket, I clutched it in my hand.

My son was beautiful, but I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. Seeing his face… I just couldn’t. Maddie thought it was her fault. She took responsibility for losing him when she shouldn’t have. It wasn’t her fault. Not at all.

It was mine.

Rage rocketed through me and I hit my chest with my fisted hand.

“It was my fault!” I yelled into the empty room. “It was all my goddamn fault!”

I shook my head back and forth.

“If it weren’t for me, he’d still be here.”

I hit my chest again.

“If I’d just stayed, our son would still be alive.”

Another hit.

“I could’ve taught him how to ride a dirt bike.”

My chest felt like it was caving in.

“Could’ve taught him how to shoot a basketball.”

With the locket still in my hand, I stood up and took a deep breath. Dropping my head back, I craned my neck and screamed as loud as I could. “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE?”

My cell phone began to ring, and a fragment of hope stirred inside of me.

Please be her. Please be her. Please be her.

I picked up the phone and pressed it to my ear. “Maddie?” My chest heaved. “Please, baby…”

It wasn’t Maddie.

No, it was the Alabama tornado.

“Hendrix!” Shelby frantically screamed into the phone.

Sweat dripped from my brow. “We’ve got to find her.” My voice was hoarse.

Shelby hollered again. "What do you think I've been trying to do for the last hour? I've been everywhere! She went to her old house and slipped a note under the door. Even went to your house and left one for your father. Her luggage is sitting outside, but nobody has seen her. Where would she go?”

I froze.

“What kind of letters?”

Shelby’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Letters explainin’ about the baby. She said she couldn’t bear to tell another person face to face. Said she couldn’t stand to see hate in anyone else’s eyes.” Like she’d seen in mine. My mind moved so fast I couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Hendrix, you don’t think she’d hurt herself, do you? I mean, with the apology letters and then her just disappearin’ I can’t help but think…”

My feet were moving before my brain realized what the hell I was doing. “Meet me at Maddie’s old house.”

“I’m already here!”

I didn’t bother to shut my apartment door as I rushed outside. Running as fast as I could, I moved towards my truck. Once I reached it, I jerked the door open so hard the hinges popped. Then I jumped in, started the engine, shifted into drive, and took off like a bat out of hell.

I didn’t bother to check for oncoming traffic as I pulled out of my apartment complex.

“I’m coming, pretty girl,” I whispered to the empty cab. “I’m fucking coming.”