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Prologue
Spring is my favorite time in New York City. I'd been jogging in Central Park and was just getting off the subway to head to my small walk-up apartment in Brooklyn when my cell chimed. I take the phone off my armband and smile when I see Zoe's name on the caller id. I was excited because she was making plans to move to the city to start college. She'd wanted a break after high school. I came to the city to attend NYU, two years later, I was here teaching at the Winthrop Academy.
"Hey Zoe, what flight did you get?" I ask excitedly.
"I'm pregnant," Zoe blurts.
"What?" I ask, not sure I heard her correctly.
"I'm pregnant, Willow. I'm not coming to New York," Zoe says.
"I don't understand; I didn't know you were seeing anyone," I say, confused.
"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd be upset," Zoe replies.
"Why would I be upset about you dating someone?" I wonder.
"Look, can you come home for summer break?" Zoe steers the conversation away from her dating situation.
I need to work; living in New York was hella expensive than our hometown in Juniper, New Mexico. Another reason I was excited to have Zoe move here was we could share expenses. My college roommate and I had lived together until a few months ago when she decided to teach overseas.
"I need to work, but I'll come home for a week, maybe two after classes end. How far along are you?" I ask.
"Three months," Zoe confirms.
"Who's the father? Have you told Mom?" Our mother is flighty and an alcoholic. She'd done well enough managing a job until about a year ago.
"She's not been home in about a month," Zoe says.
"Oh, is she staying with one of her boyfriends?" I ask.
"No, the guy took her to Vegas, and she said she didn’t know when she’d be back," Zoe says.
I'm just outside my apartment door now, and I put the phone against my ear and shoulder as I work the keys in the lock.
"Zoe, how many times do I have to ask you who the father is, and is he going to be around for the baby?" I huff out as I move into my apartment and shut the door behind me, ensuring I bolt the locks.
"Yes, he's excited about it. His name is Aaron Walker," she says.
"Why does that name sound familiar?" Thinking I used to know someone with the last name Walker in high school, but his name was Jamison. Though maybe they weren't related.
"He's the President of The Grim Saints Motorcycle Club," Zoe says.
"Wait, what you're with Jamison Walker's father?" I stare out my apartment window, shocked. Zoe is four years younger than me, and Jamison and I were in the same grade in high school. We didn't run in the same circles back then, but in a town the size of Juniper, you knew most everyone.
"We love each other, Willow."
