After biking or fishing or hiking, Khiley was never patient enough to wait until we changed before diving into the cool water.
Her gaze met mine, unsure—so not her—and it caused my eyes to journey down to the little buds pushing against the thin material of her tank. That was all it took for me to reach for the back of my T-shirt and pull it over my head, shoving it against the open wound.
She pulled on my arm, guiding me back toward the house. As we walked, the air was awkward between us in a way it never was. “I’m sorry I kissed you,” I told her.
Her eyes flitted to me. “I was supposed to do it first.”
I stopped in my tracks. “You wanted to kiss me? Then why’d you push me away?”
She shrugged and pulled on my arm again to get us moving, but I didn’t budge.
“Come on, ‘Ley. Tell me.”
“You’re bleeding all over the place.”
“Tell me.”
It took her a few seconds before she said softly, “I don’t want it to change things between us.”
I pulled her to me with my arm that wasn’t holding my shirt to my chin, and she let me hug her. “Something as stupid as kissing can’t ever change what we are.”
She’d looked up at me then, her eyes huge and shadowed in the shimmering light, judging if I meant what I said.
And I had. Except, that was exactly the same thing she was afraid of now. She was afraid the baby would change us. Change who we were together.
I pulled the swing to a halt by the chain and moved around so I was in front of her. I pulled her legs and locked them behind me. Our bodies were tucked as close as they could have been in layers of jeans and coats and scarves. She put a hand at my waist to balance herself.
“’Ley. We’ll do this like we’ve done everything. Together. It isn’t going to pull us apart. It’s going to bring us closer,” I said, meaning it. Making another promise to her I meant to keep.
She started crying again. I felt like a jackass for the millionth time this month. This was my fault. We could say it took two to tango as much as we wanted, but I was the guy. I should have covered it up like I had every other fucking time since we’d first made love at sixteen.
“What if I tell you I don’t want it…that I’ve made an appointment to…” She sobbed and looked away. I stilled, shock spilling into my pores. She pulled her body from mine and moved toward the lake.
I watched her as she kicked rocks and grass on the way. I pulled my hand over my face as anger and hurt filled my soul.
“What are you saying?” I called after her. “Are you saying you want to have an abortion? You want to kill our baby?”
She didn’t look back at me, but she bent over, sobbing once more. It twisted at my heart, but this time, I didn’t go and comfort her as I fought my own wave of emotions. I breathed in and out several times and then forced my legs to move. To go to her. I pulled her up against me.
“Tell me. Is that really what you’re considering?” I wanted to soothe her, wanted my words to be soft, but they weren’t. Instead, the words were full of anger and sadness and regret. So much regret.
She barely nodded against my chest, but I still felt it.
I stepped back, and she wrapped her arms around her middle.
“I can’t believe you’d do that,” I stormed at her.
“I don’t want a baby!” she wept. “Not yet. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m just graduating, and I want to be able to travel and get drunk and not be responsible for anything but you and me and getting ourselves from one place to the next. I want to see the stars from every single part of the globe, like we’ve always said we would... I don’t want my stomach to be as huge as Edie’s and my boobs to sag…” She broke off, the tears turning silent.
“I get that, ‘Ley. I do. I don’t want us to be parents yet either. But that baby. That’s us. That’s you and me and everything we’ve always been to each other. You can’t just kill it. It’s got a heartbeat already. It’s…” My turn to sob. My turn to break down.
“It’s my choice,” she stumbled