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Ava dried the last plate and put it away in the cabinet. When she turned around, her mother was staring at her while worrying a dishcloth between twisting fingers. "Are you having relations with that boy?"
Ava sucked in a startled breath. Never in a million years did she think her mother would ask her about her private life. The question was intrusive and none of her business. And besides, she and her mom didn't have that kind of relationship. To Ava's way of thinking, her mother was old-fashioned and squeamish, if not downright prudish. She licked her lips and tried to think of a way to respond.
Her mother beat her to it. "You are. You would have denied it by now if it weren't true." Ava stood in shocked silence as her mother's lips twisted angrily. "You listen to me, young lady. I won't condone that kind of behavior from you. It's not acceptable in this house. You're going to promise me that you're going to stop immediately, or I swear, I'll tell your father and you won't be seeing that boy anymore—at all—ever. Do you understand?"
Shock and anger merged together and almost made it impossible for Ava to answer with the only possible response left for her to give. But she was so angry. She was seventeen years old and at the age of consent. Surely this was her business? And why couldn't she have a more understanding mother? Maybe one who would lecture and worry—sure—but then would ultimately hug her, take her to the clinic and help her get birth control pills? Ava swallowed and forced the words out. "Yes, ma'am, I understand."
At Ava's quick agreement, her mom's glare softened into a look that seemed to contain only worry. "Good. I'm glad you're going to be practical about this. I've told you before. Boys only want one thing. And they don't come to get it from good girls. If you have relations with that boy, and then y'all break up, then you'll soon be having relations with another boy. And do you know what that would make you?"
Hurt and belligerence welled up and it took everything for Ava to tamp it down as she looked at the floor and mumbled, "What?"
"A bad girl, that's what. And I don't raise bad girls, do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am." Ava carefully placed the dishrag on the countertop, tried to look conciliatory, and slowly left the room.
****
A few weeks later, Ava looked at the next month's calendar on her phone. Damn, she'd almost forgotten her dad's upcoming birthday. Even though his birthday couldn't be considered trivial, how could she be expected to remember anything besides the loneliness that faced her? Ethan was leaving in two short weeks, and that's all she'd been concerned with lately. As she stared at the screen, a niggling feeling of unease hit her in the stomach. Something was wrong—at least something was not quite right.
And then realization smacked her upside the head with the force equivalent of a baseball bat.
She was late. Late—like with a capital L.
As soon as the knowledge formed, she dropped her phone and clutched her breasts, the achy, full feeling she'd been having for the last couple of days hitting her like a thunderclap between the eyes.
No way. Dear God, please—no way.
Her life would be over if she was pregnant. How could she possibly deal? She swallowed as bile rose in her throat when she thought of what her mother's reaction would be.
This was so not good. She needed to tell Ethan. Now. He hadn't even come inside of her! But she couldn't text him. She had to tell him in person because she couldn't let something so detrimental to his future—shit—her thought process splintered—his scholarship—dear God, help them.
With tears coming to her eyes and a sinking feeling in her tummy, she rolled over and clutched her pillow to her middle.
And then the tears overflowed.
****
Shit. Ava was freaking him out.
Ethan sat in the middle seat of his truck and held her to his chest as she cried. She'd tried to tell him a couple of times what was wrong—but every time she began to speak her voice would crack and she'd just start crying harder.
How bad could it be? Jesus Christ. Was she about to break up with him? Was the relationship too much, too soon for her? Did she need more in life? How could that be when all he needed was her? He felt like he wanted to puke—he wouldn't be able to take it without her. He gritted his teeth as he sank his fingers around her upper arms. "Just tell me now if you want to break up. Is that what this is all about? You think you can't do a long-distance relationship?" Even though he felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest with a crowbar, he had to know.
Frantically, she began shaking her head, which appeased him somewhat. It certainly calmed the fires raging in his gut, but it didn't give him an answer to her upset. "Ava—"
"I'm pregnant." She looked up when she made that announcement as her tear-stained eyes locked with his.
As those two words began to sink in, the first thing he felt was a sick stroke of guilt that was like a double-edged sword. He felt immediate guilt for the relief he felt that she didn't want to break up with him. And then more guilt. How the hell had he allowed this to happen? Was he such a fuckup that he had only thought of himself and hadn't taken care of his girl?
And then the next thing to hit him was a moment of emotional panic. Pregnant? With a baby? He was supposed to leave for school in a matter of weeks. Who would take care of Ava? Could she come with him? Hell—he couldn't go away now—he'd have to stay here and get a job. He'd have to have money to buy diapers and bottles and baby wipes and shit like that.
He had all these thoughts within seconds, and then another insi
dious little thought slammed his brain. She'd never be able to break up with him now. Never. If she had his baby—he had her.
Goddamn, that thought shamed him—his pure, unadulterated selfishness, at a time like this, was messed up. He forced the silver lining from his mind and tried to refocus.
What about Ava? She'd be the one who had to carry most of the load, like literally. Could she finish high school? Would she be able to take care of a baby and get everything done that her senior year would entail? Christ—all these thoughts and he hadn't even responded to her announcement yet.
How could he respond? His throat was so dried up that it was almost impossible to breathe, let alone—
"Ethan," she reached up and clutched his shoulder. "Say something—please."
Say something—she wanted him to say something. He swallowed, tightened his abs, and stared down into her beautiful eyes—and said the first thing that came to him. "I love you—it'll be okay. I'll take care of you—you gotta know that."
Her lips began quivering again but a tiny hint of calm amid the turmoil seemed to soften her expression. "I love you, too."
"We'll get through this. It'll be okay," he reiterated, wondering if he was telling the truth, his stomach exploding into waves of panic.
"I'm scared—completely shitless," she said as another tear spilled over.
He reached up and wiped the tear away. Yeah. Scared shitless. He could relate. "Yeah, me too."
"You can't be," she mumbled through tears, shaking her head.
"I can't?"
"No, because one of us has to stay strong—and I think you should be the one to have that job since I'm going to be kind of busy with this baby-growing project."
She was trying to lighten the atmosphere and a glimmer of a smile played on his lips—until he realized what she'd said. His eyes trailed down to her stomach. Her beautiful, still-perfect stomach. A baby was there. His baby, Ava's baby. Their baby. He glanced back up into the eyes of the mother of his child and felt a sharp spiral of possession mix with the cold ball of fear churning in his gut. "Damn, it's going to be a real baby, huh?" he asked rather stupidly.
