Page 88 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

Oh. My. God.

“You didn’t tell me?” I ask, pain lancing me to my core. I take the pictures and run my fingers over them as delicately as I can, like they are going to shatter if I don’t take my time and handle them with care.

She shakes her head.

“What happened? Why?”

You told her you didn’t fucking want her, that’s why, you asshole.

“At the appointment I found out I was eight weeks . . . I got pregnant on the beach, that last time.” Kendra swipes at her cheeks.

That last time. That night we were together for the last time before I broke both of our hearts for so many years—making her hate me, making me hate myself even more than I already did.

“The doctor told me that the baby was the size of, the size of a jelly bean,” she whispers and sinks to her knees on the kitchen floor, her sobs ruining me.

A jelly bean. Fuck. I look at the images and see the small shape of our baby. My mind flashes back to me calling Wren that and Kendra running from my house, leaving her coffee cold on the counter and me totally confused. It is all painfully becoming clear now. Leaving the ultrasound pictures on the table, I drop to my knees and crawl the short distance to her, pulling Kendra to my chest and ask something I don’t want to: “You decided not to keep it? Because of me?”

Pushing at me, Kendra looks at me and says with a pain that is visceral, “I wanted our baby with every fiber of my being, but the very day I found out about it I also lost it. Started bleeding that night and had to take myself to the ER where they told me I was having a miscarriage.”

“Jesus, sweetheart. I am so fucking sorry. Who knew? Who knows? Who was there for you?”

“Nobody was with me. Nobody here knew until I told Lainey and Sutton a few weeks ago.” She bites her lip. “I shared with my nana about everything, about our summer, the baby. But she died, and we never spoke about you after the one time I told her. I think she understood that it was too much.”

“You have been alone in this—held this pain, this loss, as a secret all this time?”

Kendra just nods her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I search her face, seeing years of anguish written there.

“I was going to when I found out about the baby. Planned on raising them on my own, but knew you at least needed to know you had a child in the world. But after . . . What was the point? You made it clear that night at the beach the feelings I had for you weren’t mutual. I wasn’t going to burden you with something I knew you never wanted in the first place.”

Kendra’s cold analysis of the situation makes me feel angry, but not at her. I fucked up so badly back then she could not even come to me when she was in pain and mourning our child. Still, after all this time, she was afraid to tell me.

Burying my face in her neck I cry—for her, myself, our baby, and all the years lost between us. I feel her soft hands glide through my hair, and she holds me close. Our pain and longing for what could have been binding us together.

“I’m so sorry,” Kendra says.

Taking her face in my hands I say fiercely, “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I am the one that is sorry. Sorry that I made you think I didn’t care, that you couldn’t come to me, or that I wouldn’t want to know—before or after. I hate that I wasn’t there for you. I hate that you were alone and have been alone in this for so long. God, how can you ever forgive me?” I ask.

“I found the drawing,” she whispers.

“What?”

“My butterfly. I saw it when I packed a hospital bag for you. You really kept it all this time?”

“Of course I did, I told you I would treasure it forever. It was true. And after—it was the only thing I had left of you to hold on to. That and the beach. Our memories. I tried to forget you, go back to life before you. I have never been the same since that summer. I loved you then and was so fucking scared. I didn’t want to hurt you and ended up doing exactly that anyhow.” I kiss her tear-streaked cheeks.

“You loved me?” Kendra gasps.

“Loved you then and never stopped, sweetheart. You consume me. You are like the sunsets we watched together that dip into the depths of the ocean. The darkness of my soul illuminates with your touch. The shadows that I once thought I could never escape—my past, the darkness, the demons of my father—are driven away because of your light, your understanding, your love. I love you so damn much.”

“I love you too,” Kendra says, and the words are barely past her lips before I am yanking her up off the floor into a fireman’s carry.

“HULK!” she yells. “What are you doing?”

“I need a damn bed, not the kitchen floor the first time I make love to you again. I’ll fuck you there later, though. And on every other surface of this house. Is that alright with you?” I smack her ass as I take the stairs to her room two at a time, her glowing laughter making my heart happy.

“Yes, Daddy,” she replies with so much sass I slap her ass again, and she moans, grinding down on my shoulder. Not helpful.