Page 200 of Breathe Like Hell

“Dakota, I’m so sorry,” I murmured, resting my hand on her knee.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I didn’t care about it that much. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” I ran my palm along her shin.

“I’m not sad, okay? I don’t think I really wanted the baby.”

“I heard you.” She was lying. And the lie was so fucking obvious it made my eyes sting, because I hated that she felt like she had to lie to me about this. I hated that it was happening at all. Hated that Micah had left us, left her. I wanted to kill him for making her go through this alone.

“I’m relieved, actually,” she said through the slight wobble in her voice.

“Okay.”

“I would be a terrible mother.”

“No, you wouldn’t, baby. If you wanted it, you’d be a perfect mother.” Saying the words aloud made a lump swell in my throat.

“Shut up, Mason. I would be a horrible mother and I’m happy the baby is dead now. I didn’t want it.” She was staring at me now, brows furrowed like she was angry, but her lower lip was trembling like she was holding in a sob.

I didn’t know what the fuck to say to her.

Clearly, she didn’t want me to know she was sad about this.

“Can you go away now? I want privacy.”

“I’ll go make some waffles for you, but then I’m coming back. We’re going to get through this. It might be a rough day today, but I’m right here with you.”

She didn’t say anything else.

My heart was so heavy as I left her, going downstairs on autopilot. I didn’t know how to handle this, but she needed someone to know, so I’d figure it out right now. I whipped my phone out of my pocket, making a bunch of internet searches while I got frozen blueberry waffles out of the freezer and stuck them in the toaster. My eyes skimmed over websites with tips, telling me what to expect, what to do to help her.

I sat down at the table, continuing my research while the waffles toasted. Dakota’s journal was here—the journal she’d decorated on the beach with me. With ribbons and lace and charms, while the wind ripped over the waves and I spilled my deepest secret. I’d never read anything in it before, but I was tempted to glance now.

I stuck my finger in the gap where her pen was sitting and flipped the notebook open.

The page I’d flipped to was mostly blank, except:

Baby name idea?

Ivy

That tiny word written in blue pen ripped all the air from my lungs, punched me in the gut, stole the ground from underneath me.

I shut the notebook and left it on the table, breathing heavily, when all I really wanted to do was throw it as hard as I could. Shatter the window, scream until my throat bled, rip every inch of the world apart because she didn’t fucking deserve this.

Ivy.

She’d been hoping for a daughter.

She’d been hoping.

Some part of her.

And now Micah was fucking gone, being a fucking coward, doing the same shit he’d done to me.

He wasn’t strong enough to ever talk about his feelings.

Even if Dakota’s dream had been tragically short-lived, it’d existed. She deserved someone who could support her through that type of loss.