AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Abel and Riley are right. I need to go to Maren. At the very least call her.
Instead, I send her a text when Katie finally falls asleep next to me on the couch. I type out the wordshow are you, knowing with every letter that what I’m doing is shitty and cowardly and the kind of thing Maren should never, ever forgive me for.
But maybe that’s why I do it. Because deep down, I don’t want to be forgiven.
Deep down, I know I’ll never forgive myself.
twenty-nine
. . .
Maren
Square One
My parentsmercifully let me sleep in.
I finally passed out just as the sun was rising after crying my eyes out in bed all night. Between the tears and the baby’s nocturnal gymnastics—he or she always comes alive at night—I think I hit a new low somewhere around three A.M.
I wake up groggy with a two-ton weight on my chest. It takes a minute to register why I’m sleeping in the queen bed in my childhood bedroom.
Oh, right, the guy I’m in love with whose baby I’m having let me walk away after he shut me out.
I’m awake for all of twenty seconds before I start crying again.
Not only that. I had to run to my parents’ house because I had nowhere else to go. The same parents who warned me the choices I was making were stupid at best, harmful at worst.
Lo and behold, they were right.
The realization is humbling. And devastating.
I reach for my phone, my heart lifting for a brief momentin the hope I see Tuck’s name lighting up my screen. Maybe he tried to call. Sent some texts, at least, giving a better explanation of why he shut down the way he did.
Tuck’s name is on my screen. But only because he sent one text last night.How are you?
The hope in my heart crashes and burns.
That’s it. One text. Didn’t even include a picture of Katie. He’s got to know I miss her as much as I’m missing him.
What an asshole.
I debate not texting him back. But that would make me an asshole too, and that’s not how I roll. So I typeBaby is fine, please send pictures of Katieand leave it at that.
He doesn’t text me back. But I don’t have much time to wallow, because a minute later, there’s a soft knock on my door.
“Yeah?”
Mom peeks her head in. “I was listening for you, sweetheart. Can I bring you some coffee? Something to eat?”
I have to give it to my parents. They may not approve of my choices, but no matter what, they’ll always be there for me.
“Coffee would be really great, Mom. Thank you.”
She returns a couple minutes later with a steaming mug, a big glass of ice water, and a plate topped with slices of my favorite chocolate chip pumpkin bread she’s baked from scratch for as long as I can remember.
“Thank you so much, Mom.” I sit up in bed and take the water and the plate from her, sipping the water before I set it on the nightstand. “I really appreciate you letting me stay here.”
Mom sits on the edge of the mattress and smooths the bedspread over my knees. “This is your home too, Maren. You’re always welcome. Were you able to sleep?”
