FALLON
I can do this.
I can tell Ozzy the truth, give him insight on something we shared, but ultimately, I chose to end. A choice that meant not bringing a life into this world, a life we created together when we were in love.
No, I can’t.
I can’t say it aloud. I can’t blurt out the worst thing I’ve ever done, and every time I look at Ozzy, the confession feels like less of a way to protect myself, and more of something that’ll hurt him.
Fate already intervened once, with the delivery boy knocking on the door just as I was pulling the ultrasound photo out of my bag, and I silently thanked my lucky stars that I have a few extra moments with this before I break his heart.
I listened as Ozzy recounted his near-death experience, and I realized that he was in pain too. This whole time I thought he left without remorse, but it’s the opposite. He nearly died without me, and I can’t take that lightly. He’s on antidepressants because he couldn’t live without intervention, without something to supplement the happiness he lost when he left me, and that speaks volumes about the connection we used to have.
Being around him again is surreal, like we haven’t missed a day, but we have. We’ve missed months, and I spent each second miserable.
Everything about him serves as a reminder of what we used to be, the connection we had, and I feel like I’m about to implode, but at the same time, it’s comforting to be near him. He has a superpower over me, one that’s been evident since the day we met – he makes me feel safe.
“Two steak tacos with a side of chips and queso,” Ozzy says, ripping me out of my thoughts, and handing me a greasy brown bag.
“Thank you.” I smile, our fingers brushing as his gaze travels down my arm, pausing when he sees the scar.
“Did someone hurt you, Bambi?” He asks, that fire building behind those chocolate eyes.
“Ozzy –”
“Who did this to you?” He doubles down, his hand latched around my wrist.
I have a feeling he’s not letting go until I answer him, but I know he won’t stop prodding, and I’ll have to give him the full story.
The gash led to the blood tests, which revealed the accidental pregnancy, and the rest is a very painful history.
“Nobody did anything to me. I cut myself on some glass,” I say softly, and he nods, letting my hand go.
“That’s a big scar for some glass ,” he counters, sitting beside me on the floor.
“Yeah. A picture frame broke.”
For some reason, instead of saying more, or explaining myself, I laugh. A full-belly, hysterical laugh that I can’t control, and Ozzy looks at me like I’m insane.
“It broke and cut up your arm like that?” He questions, the curiosity not letting go as he kinks his eyebrow at my dramatics.
“Something like that. I may have been the one to break it … or twenty of them,” I say, settling myself and wiping a stray tear that escaped.
“The pictures in our room?” He asks, a sadness in his voice.
“Every last one of ‘em. Smashed those end tables you bought for us, too. It wasn’t as therapeutic as it sounds.” I shrug, playing it off as no big deal.
Deep down, my heart is cracking, and I’m struggling with what to say next. This is delicate, not something you just drop in someone’s lap over tacos.
“I had to get a few stitches, and it healed without any problems,” I offer, watching as his alarmed expression simmers down, replaced with a softness in his eyes.
We don’t say anything else for a few beats, both of us choosing to eat in silence, but I can feel his eyes on me. He wants to ask more, to know everything, but he’s holding back from me – for me.
I know he’s giving me space, letting me control what we do and say, but this dance isn’t our speed. Neither of us has ever hesitated or played coy, and I don’t want to start, even if I’m still mad at him for leaving me in the cruelest way.
“I have to tell you something,” I whisper, reaching for the liquor bottle again.
I cannot do this sober.
“What is it?” His eyes meet mine, but I turn away out of shame, unable to witness the moment the light fades from his eyes because of what I’m about to say.
He watches me intently as I reach for my bag, the photograph right where I left it, and I brush my fingers over it one last time before I hand it to him.
Ozzy takes the ultrasound photo, and his eyes immediately flick to mine, then back down to the picture.
“Fallon, are you pregnant?” He asks, a smile creeping across his face, and that’s when it happens.
I fucking shatter.
The hope he has, the ideas of fatherhood and family that are flooding his mind are all for nothing, and I’m the one who has to break every single one of those fantasies.
That’s all they are – fucking fairytales and folklore.
“I was.” I look away, struggling to hide my shame and my tears, knowing what those two little words are doing to him – how I’m destroying him.
“What do you mean, Fallon?” He speaks slowly, a slight quiver in his voice as he reaches out to stroke my arm.
“I had an abortion, Ozzy. When I got the stitches they ran a blood test, and I … I asked the doctor to terminate the pregnancy. This was our baby,” I say, full sobs racking through my body.
“Oh, Fallon. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone, but why would you get an abortion? You knew I wanted kids with you.” He changes his tune from sympathetic to seemingly mad in a quick second, and my head swivels, staring at him dumbfoundedly.
“You were gone. What was I supposed to do, Ozzy? Raise a baby by myself?”
“It wasn’t going to be forever,” he says softly, and the anger flows through me like hot lava.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that? You left me with nothing but broken fucking promises. I was drunk every single day, destroying rooms, and crying uncontrollably. That’s not the kind of person who should be raising a child, Ozzy. I made the choice that was right at the moment, even if it broke my heart,” I explain, settling my voice and meeting him with sadness, rather than anger.
“I respect your decision, Bambi. It was your choice to make,” he says, wrapping me in his arms, and this time, I don’t push him away or pull back the reins.
“He was ours. He didn’t get a chance to breathe the same air as us or see what we look like, but he was ours. And now, he lives here, in our hearts.” I touch my palm over my chest, mirroring the gesture over the B carved into his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my skin.
“He?”
“We wanted a boy first, didn’t we? I know he would’ve been a boy.” I smile, looking into his eyes that are filled with unshed tears.
“Did you give him a name?” He asks, and I shake my head.
“No, but you can, if you’d like. He was your son, too.”
He pauses, staring down at the photo again, and a small smile spreads, his dimples creeping out beneath the beard.
“ Angel .”
“Yeah? I can live with that.” I nod, cementing it in stone and making this feel much more real.
I’m not struggling with this alone anymore, and it doesn’t feel like I’m holding information hostage, eliminating the weight hanging over my head.
I’ve never felt more empty, but it’s almost as if I’m free now.
“I’m so sorry, Bambi. For all of it. Leaving you, the baby, the promises I broke. I missed you and dreamed about you every single day. All I’ve done is try to find this man, to take him down so I could get back to you,” he tells me, stroking my hair as tears fall down both our cheeks.
“I came here to tell you about Angel, and then to leave you,” I blurt out, and his body hardens beneath mine, his breaths slowing down.
“Just like that? You’re ready to walk away from me right as we found each other again?”
“That was the plan. But now, I don’t know anymore. I’m still pissed at you, broken into pieces I’m not sure can be repaired, but it doesn’t change the fact that being with you still brings me happiness, and comfort,” I say, resting my head on his chest.
“Don’t leave. Not yet, okay?” He whispers, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head and repeating the words I said to him earlier.
“It’s late, Ozzy. I should get my own room,” I tell him, attempting to break away from this moment we’ve found ourselves in, but he shakes his head.
“You’re not going anywhere, Bambi. After three months apart, you’re finally here with me, and I want to hold you, just for one night,” he says sternly, his voice ripping through me, and I’m inclined to submit to the powers he has over me, but I’m conflicted.
Suddenly, Ozzy stands, giving me a choice and holding his hand out for me to take.
If I do, I’ll sleep next to him in bed and probably get the best night’s sleep I have in months. If I refuse, I might be signing our relationship’s death certificate, and I’m not ready to do that, no matter how stubborn I want to be.
He offers me a small smile, patiently waiting for me to make my decision as if he’s inside my mind, but it’s an easy one. I lace my fingers into his and he lifts me off the ground, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Instinctively, I cross my legs around him while he carries me to the bed. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent like it’s my last breath, and memories of the first night we spent together flood through me, bringing a slight smirk to my face.
God, I was such a different person back then, and now, I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror, but being here with Ozzy is as close as I can come to returning to who I’m meant to be.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I say, curling into the bed while he pulls the covers over us.
“I’d hope not,” he teases, cuddling me from behind, wrapping his thick arms around my belly, and I feel complete.
Nothing could burst this bubble I’m enveloped in, and it’s the most comfortable I’ve been in a very long time.
Suddenly, I can feel how excited Ozzy is to see me, his hardness pressing against my ass, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You better get that thing off me,” I say, and both of us are caught in a fit of laughter.
“I can’t help it, Bambi. You’re still the most beautiful girl in the world,” he remarks, making my body flush with heat.
Even though I haven’t been taking care of myself as I should, he still reacts to me in the ways he used to, and I’ll call that a win.
“How far along would you be?” His voice cuts through the silence, and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting out a deep sigh.
I hate allowing my mind to wander, thinking about the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve of this situation, but he has a right to know.
“Around four months, probably twenty weeks or so.”
“We’d know the gender by now. Maybe picking out a nursery theme,” he says softly, squeezing me a little tighter as his resolve begins to break, his breathing intensifying as the words leave his lips.
“Yeah, I think about that sometimes too. I’d have a baby growing in my belly,” I whisper, and he fully breaks down against my back.
I let myself go, crying right along with him, and he flips me over until my head is buried in his chest. In this dingy motel, we fall apart together, mourning the loss of something that could’ve been beautiful.
We stay like this until there are no more tears left to cry, and he peels my body off his, looking into my eyes.
“I’m going to find out who Mr. A. is, and when I do, I will kill him. He is responsible for this, for us not getting a chance to hold our son, and for that, I won’t offer a shred of mercy,” he says, the ruthless anger that I love flowing through him, and I nod in response.
“ We will kill him. For Angel.”
“ For our Angel ,” he repeats, solidifying our plans like another one of our signature sayings.
I stay comfortably wrapped in Ozzy’s arms, the glow of the moon peeking through the curtains, and when I look up at him, I finally recognize the man I fell in love with. He looks exactly the same, but that vulnerability in his eyes is what drew me in so long ago. When he looks at me, I feel beautiful, and right now, in the midst of what we're grieving, he’s staring at me like I’m the only person on this Earth.
I never stopped loving Ozzy, but I can feel my heart expanding, finding a way to love him differently than I did before. After all, I carry a piece of Angel with me, and there’s no other place to store my love for Ozzy than right beside the space reserved for our unborn son.
“I like to think he’s in a different universe, far away from this one, but wherever he is, he’s happy. The best of us merged to create the most beautiful boy, and somewhere, beyond what we can see, he’s out there, and he’s with us.”
Ozzy’s quiet for a few moments, but he sighs, pulling me back again.
“That’s the most perfect thing you’ve ever said to me, Fallon. He’s with the stars now,” he whispers, tears escaping down his cheeks again.
I reach up, swiping them away with the pad of my thumb, and he closes his eyes, letting me care for him with the smallest gesture of affection.
“I’ve had a lot of time to process this, so I understand if you hate me, or think less of me for what I chose to do. But, in my heart, I know it was the right choice. For a few weeks, I was a mother, and I had to think like one,” I confess, and he kisses my forehead gently.
“I don’t hate you, Fallon. We’ll do it right next time,” he says confidently, and I leave it at that for the night.
No more heavy talk, no more imagining our lives differently. It feels good to be in Ozzy’s arms again, and I let myself soak up the feeling, the purity that comes when two damaged people come together, the love they have for one another prevailing over all else.