I don’t sleep. Despite nearly running a marathon, my mind won’t give me rest. My body is exhausted and screaming at me to ice it or just never do that again. But I can barely hear it over the sound of my father telling me what a colossal fuck up I am.
I had a feeling it would be like this so I’m in the guest room. I don’t know jack shit about pregnant women, but I’m pretty sure anyone growing a human being inside of them needs their sleep. The last thing she needs is for me to be tossing and turning and keeping her awake.
No, asshole. The last thing she needed was for you to just walk out.
I lose count of how many times I get up and cross the room towards the door, only to talk myself out of it and lie back down. I don’t know how I feel yet, and I don’t know what she needs to hear.
When the sun comes up, I’m still lying here, trying to figure out a way to save some semblance of the life Layla and I had together. Have together. Shit.
I rub my fists roughly into my eyes and wish that I could go back in time. Wish that I had been more insistent about using protection.
But I can’t and I wasn’t. So Layla gets to pay for my selfishness. For my wanting to feel nothing between us when we made love. And if this pregnancy means she can’t have the surgery she needs—the surgery that could save her life—then I basically killed her.
The thought hits me at the exact same instant a clenching ache seizes my chest. My stomach pitches, and for a second, I’m positive I’m going to throw up.
A whistling noise from my phone pierces the air, indicating I have a new message. Probably Layla asking where the hell I am. Stretching my arm out, I grab it off the nightstand.
The screen lights up but it’s not Layla.
It’s another woman, one I’d rather not talk to at the moment. But I can see the eleven missed calls and my screen is filled with text messages. Look up relentless in the dictionary and there she’ll be. For synonyms, see pain in my ass.
“Kate,” I greet Layla’s aunt.
She doesn’t bother with a greeting. “You’ve got to talk to her, Landen. She’ll listen to you.”
I sigh and roll onto my back. Now I’m suddenly tired. Exhausted really. “Good morning to you, too.”
She huffs a breath right back at me. “We don’t have time for this. You want to make jokes? Fine. Make jokes. While you’re busy laughing, I’ll be on my way to the airport. And when I see you in California, I’m going to murder you. Lucky for me, I know enough people at the DA’s office to make a convincing case for suicide.”
My sleep-deprived brain can’t even make sense of her words. Though it does register that my life was just threatened and it’s not even eight in the morning. “Wait, California? Did you not hear what she said?” Layla’s aunt is an extremely successful litigator and is generally pretty sharp. I don’t want to insult her intelligence by stating the obvious, but clearly she’s confused.
Trying to muster the courage to say the words out loud, I clear my throat. “Uh, not to be a dick because I know you’re stressed and probably having as hard of a time dealing with this as I am, but Layla made herself pretty clear. She’s pregnant, Kate. She can’t have surgery on Monday.”
Jesus. She’s pregnant. I hear her soft, sweet voice, full of determination echoing in me head. I’m pregnant.
Since Kate has no trouble insulting my intelligence, she continues. “Yeah. Got that. Landen, listen to me. I know this is a delicate issue. But we don’t exactly have the luxury of time on our side.”
“I’m listening.” I sit up and put my feet on the hardwood floor. “If you have some miracle solution to this, I’d love to hear it.”
For a moment, she hesitates. I hear a small intake of breath and then the words I should’ve expected but didn’t. “She can have an abortion. There are several clinics in LA. I could meet the two of you at one and she could get it handled this weekend. By Monday she’d be fine for surgery.”
An intense throbbing begins to vibrate in my head. Fuck. How did it get like this? One minute I’m damn near bursting with excitement about coming home to my girlfriend after a huge win and the next…Christ. The next thing I know I’m discussing abortion clinics with Layla’s aunt before I’ve even had breakfast. Once again, I’m strangled by the fierce urge to vomit. And overcome with the need to hit something. Hard.
My jaw clenches and I breathe through my nose. “Sure, Kate. I’ll just tell her that we’re heading out today and that we’ll swing by an abortion clinic once we land. How well do you think that’s going to go over?”
“Well then let me hear what you’ve got, Mr. Can’t-Be-Bothered-To-Cover-His-Dick. Because I’m out of options over here. Dr. Kirkowitz doesn’t re-schedule. If she doesn’t get the surgery now, then it could be five or ten years before he has another opening. If she even makes it that long. Do you get that, soccer boy? Has that ever really resonated with you?”
My fist closes so hard on the phone that it’s a wonder I don’t break the thing in half. “You’re damn right it resonates with me. Every hour, every minute, every second, I’m painfully fucking aware that any one of them could be her last. Every time I walk out the door for practice or a game or camp or to go get a jug of milk down the damn street, I know. I know that it could be the last time I see her face, her smile. That I could come home to ambulances or her body lifeless on the floor. So I screwed up, okay? I get that and I’m sorry.” Bone-deep regret settles over me and I sink to my knees, weighed down by desperation. Thank God she can’t see me. “I’m so fucking sorry. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix her, how to fix this.”
“I don’t need fixing.” I hear her voice, angelic and ten shades of pissed off, from behind me. Looking up at her, I see the burning determination in her eyes. And the tears.
“Baby,” I say, reaching for her. But she steps out of my reach.
“Hang up the phone, Landen,” is all she says.
“I have to go, Kate.” Her aunt starts to say something, but I press end and she’s gone. And it’s just me and my girlfriend. Well, and someone else I can’t bring myself to think about yet.
“Talk to me. Don’t run. Don’t go for a run. Don’t shut me out and pretend this isn’t happening. It is.” A nearly imperceptible shudder passes through her and I want to hold her. To wrap her in my arms and protect her like I’ve always done. But I can’t fix it this time. Can’t fix us.
Rocking back on my heels, I slide myself down the side of the bed and sit on the floor. She sighs and leans against the wall. Waiting. Waiting for me to say whatever I’m supposed to say to make this right. Except…I don’t know what that is.