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“What about Kurt? Did you tell him?”
“Oh yeah. I called him before we moved and begged him to let me move in with him. In my head we were going to get back together and raise the baby. But he wanted me to terminate the pregnancy. He didn’t want a baby ruining his chances at a pro football career. Plus, his dad would have killed him if he found out.”
Jake’s lip curls up in a silent snarl. “He’s an asshole.”
“He wasn’t my smartest boyfriend choice. And I suppose karma intervened in her own way since he never made it to the pros.”
“Have you seen him since you were teenagers?”
“Only once, and that was when he signed over his parental rights so my parents could formally adopt Ryan. I had to be there to sign the papers, too, otherwise it wouldn’t have been legal.”
“That must have been awful for you.” His expression is full of sadness and empathy.
I’d agreed to the adoption before Ryan was born. It seemed like the best way to keep him in my life and give him a stable, normal childhood.
“It was hard, but I didn’t know any different at the time. I had to leave all my friends behind, and I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on. There was a lot of ruling by fear in my family, at least with Gerald and me. It was different with Ryan. But I spent the last half of my pregnancy pretty much in isolation.” I had a midwife, and never even went to the hospital. The doctor came to the house for all my checkups. I was friendless and alone.
“What do you mean, isolation?”
“When my parents moved to Tennessee, I went and stayed with my aunt on their farm in Kentucky. I took most of my courses through distance education that year. It wasn’t until Ryan was born that I was allowed to come back home. I had a week with him before that happened. And the moment I walked through the door to my parents’ house—the baby that had grown inside of me, that I had given birth to and fell in love with—stopped being my son to the rest of the world.”
But my heart knew he was mine, even if no one else was supposed to.
And that was the hardest part. Grieving a loss that no one could ever know about.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Innie or Outie
Jake
I TRY NOT to let my horror show on my face, but it isn’t easy. I’m very right about the neat and tidy version of that story being a hell of a lot different than Hanna’s reality. I can’t fathom going through that as an adult, let alone at the age of fifteen. I clear my throat. “That sounds like it was pretty hard on you.”
I’m glad I didn’t know any of this about her parents until now. Although, moving forward, I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with them the next time we’re at a family function. I’m also aware I’m seeing this through my own lens, and my perception of her experience and how she feels about it are two very different things.
As if she can read my mind, or possibly my facial expression speaks volumes without me uttering a word, she runs her hand over my forearm, as if I’m the one in need of reassurance.
“My parents aren’t bad people, Jake. I believe they had my best interests at heart, even if the way they managed it wasn’t necessarily great for me emotionally. They didn’t want me to have the stigma of being a teen mom hanging over my head. They saw what it looked like in the small town I grew up in and they didn’t want that to be my life. And frankly, neither did I.” She drags her finger back up my arm, following a vein, her voice soft. “They also worried I’d end up on the same path as Gerald, who I love dearly, but he had a criminal record by the time he was eleven and he still can’t hold down a job for longer than six months.”
She’s not wrong about that. He acts more like an unruly nineteen-year-old than an adult who has it together. “But you’re not Gerald.”
“I know, and so did they, but kids don’t come with an instruction manual. Gerald was particularly difficult, and I think they overcorrected with me out of concern. And then Ryan was a dream child, so doing it right with him was easy. He was loved and had the chance to achieve his full potential, and that’s what matters the most.” The way she says it makes me wonder who she’s trying to convince, herself or me.
“Thank you for sharing all of this with me, Hanna. I feel like I know you a little better.” And I can see why this baby means as much as it does to her. “You’re a pretty incredible woman.”
