4. Eric
CHAPTER FOUR
ERIC
As I lie in bed staring at my ceiling, I can’t shake this shameful excitement running through my veins, knowing Amanda is just one room away.
Earlier tonight, when we sat and planned for her to raise his child almost alone, I thought all my chances with her were lost. But she came to me, and she’s now here.
The shadows on top of me flicker, and I fist the sheets under me to keep myself from spiraling.
I’m no one’s choice. Not even yours. Amanda’s words echo in my head with the clear message that her feelings are also unresolved.
I thought I was doing the right thing by stepping back from her, freeing her from the pain that was us, but I set her up to be hurt.
I can’t shake the spark in her eyes, her words more daring than resignation. A challenge to prove her wrong.
But can I? She is carrying someone else’s child.
That’s not going away. Daray’s abandonment changes nothing.
He was barely providing shit in her original plan, anyway.
She won’t change her mind. Her first child will always be Daray’s.
With that reality, can I still throw myself, heart and soul, at proving to her that she’s my choice?
I won’t have her sleeping on that couch.
It’s tiny and uncomfortable, and she’s fucking pregnant and defeated.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m standing over her.
The rise and fall of her chest shows that she’s already out like a light.
Confrontations exhaust her, but if I let her sleep here, her neck will be killing her in the morning.
I make quick work of clearing up my office and setting up the futon, making it into a bed, and fluffing some throw pillows.
Back in the front room, I sit on the coffee table, watching her sleeping form.
Her breathing soothes me. Her hair cascades down her face and off the couch.
A life with Amanda Donato has been the dream I never dared chase.
It wasn’t always this convoluted between us. There were times it was crystal clear.
As a twelve-year-old, I couldn’t remember a summer when we didn’t come here. Every year, the same damn place—this cabin by the lake, the woods, the creek running through it all, and waterfalls left and right, each more impressive.
I didn’t have a say. Mom would drag me. We’d meet up with the whole gang—her gang.
Even if half of them gossiped behind her back about how she’d ended up alone with a kid she was struggling to raise.
Especially, with the added torture of Dad being there.
Not that I was allowed to call him Dad. My father’s identity was a mystery to Mom’s friends because I was his dirty little secret.
He’d be with his family on these trips, and seeing him with his wife made Mom’s smile sad. I hated it. I hated him.
The adults were always caught up in their talking, cooking, drinking, card playing and whatever else, but us kids—well, we had the woods to ourselves.
So, the boys and I would explore and do dumb shit.
I would, especially, if his kid, Keith, came around.
Because he got to call him “Dad.” Meanwhile, I had to play fatherless child in front of all of their friends who had no idea.
Only my mom’s closest friends knew—Amanda’s parents.
Out by the lake again, standing at the edge of the highest waterfall, at least nine feet down to the water below.
We were eyeing the rocks’ sharp and jagged edges on the inevitable fall down.
Keith, my half brother, who was clueless about who his dad was to me, zeroed in on me like he could sense I had a right to something of his.
We all dared each other to do it, but he came straight for the jugular.
“Maybe if you had the balls to jump, your daddy wouldn’t have left you.
” They got so silent, we could hear every cricket and critter.
He thought I’d jump like an idiot. Instead, I went straight after him, fist balled and ready.
I was about to make contact when she came out; Amanda.
“If you’re so tough, why don’t you jump first?
” Hands on her hips. Taunting. She was half his size.
“Maybe your daddy will stop liking you if you don’t.
” At the time, I hitched my breath. Amanda knew.
She’d just had her tenth birthday. Keith thought she was just a child.
Still, she’d always been smart. And loyal.
“What? You like making dares, but won’t do one yourself? ”
I didn’t expect what came next; her approaching the edge of the rocks. She wasn’t scared of the water or the jump. No, Amanda just walked right up to the edge without a second thought.
“You guys are all chickens.” She poked fun at us, making clucking sounds and gestures. As if she hadn’t just walked in on me about to hit someone. And with that mischievous grin on her face, she ran to the edge and jumped.
We collectively held our breaths, sprinting to look downward just as we heard the splash of her body hitting the water.
Slowly, as the whiteness of the splash receded, a red halo spread in the water.
With difficulty, she moved to shore. As she pulled herself out, she clutched at her leg, completely covered in blood that was quickly pooling even more around her foot.
“Shit,” I muttered. I turned to the others. None of them were moving, mouths open at the sight of blood.
I don’t know what exactly snapped inside me, but I bolted for the water’s edge, my heart pounding as I jumped after her. That tiny girl had just gone to war for me. I came out of the water breathing a huge gulp of air, unscathed.
“Amanda,” I whispered, kneeling next to her where she sat, hugging her leg, my voice loud against her quietness. “You okay?”
She looked up at me, her face pale, lips pressed tight. “I’m fine,” she said, but she wasn’t.
There was a pretty nasty cut on her shin, blood running down her leg and into the water.
A friend at school had broken an arm once.
Amanda’s leg didn’t look at all like that.
It was probably just painful. But the blood, her pained expression, didn’t sit well with me.
She didn’t want to fall apart, trying so hard not to cry. She wouldn’t if I could help it.
“Let me help.”
Amanda hesitated for a moment, and then she nodded. She didn’t even argue when I crouched in front of her, and she latched on to my back, her legs wrapping around me as I stood up and walked back to the cabins.
“Let me know if it hurts,” I said, while wrapping my hands under her knees to hold her in place. She nodded against my back.
We knew each other. She wasn’t just another brat Mom’s friends brought around.
Aunt Katie, Uncle Sandro, and my mom are their own little unit.
Amanda and I weren’t on yearly trips and the occasional dinner basis.
Mine would drop me off at her parents’ anytime she had to work.
Amanda and I would share meals, figure out homework, and fight over the remote.
“You shouldn’t have jumped,” I told her, my tone scolding.
“You’re no better. You jumped. And you were about to hit Keith.” A long breath of hers fell on my neck. “Hitting is bad, you know.”
“He’s a bully.”
“Yep. He gets it from your dad. He’s a bully too.” I stopped in my tracks.
No one ever spoke openly about my father. Even Mom would keep it fuzzy and clouded with a, “You’ll understand better when you’re a little older.”
Amanda kept going. “He’s mean to you.”
Mom would never say that. She wouldn’t let me say that. And I wasn’t about to let myself believe it, either. So I just parroted what she always told me.
“He isn’t mean. He just doesn’t always have time to play with me.”
Amanda huffed. “He behaves like you’re not there. That’s mean.”
“You’re talking a lot for someone who’s in pain.” I tried to shut her down gently. The kid didn’t know shit.
“Eric, don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t be mean to me because you know I’m right.”
My breath shuddered because that was the closest it had gotten to anyone telling me I had a right to feel hurt.
Her fingers pressed against the top of my sternum. “I see you, you know. That’s why I got you out of trouble.”
“You did do that, didn’t you?” I said, smirking.
She nodded against my head, then smiled against my shoulder.
“Well, next time you keep me out of trouble, keep yourself safe, alright? I don’t need anymore grown-ups going at me.” I paused. “Though, Amanda, that was real badass of you.” I swallowed and pushed myself to add, “Thanks.”
Her smile spread into a wide grin against the back of my neck. Amanda may have been a kid, but making her happy made me feel like I was ten feet tall.
When we finally got back to the cabin, the grown-ups were all inside.
Gathered around several dining tables pushed together.
Drinks in hands. When they noticed Amanda’s leg, they went into full-on Oh my god mode, fawning over her.
Amanda’s mom came straight over and took her away from me, holding her against her chest.
My muscles stretched with relief, while my stomach hollowed with reluctance to let her go. I expected Uncle Sandro, Amanda’s dad, to follow his daughter and wife, but he stayed behind, a giant hand resting on my small shoulder.
“Was she at the waterfall you boys like to hang out at?” I nodded. His eyes met mine, the same green shade as Amanda’s. “You brought her all the way back here?”
I nodded again. “Yes, sir.” His hand tightened gently on my shoulder.
“You did good, Eric. I’m proud you had her back.”
“She had my back first, sir.”
“I’m not surprised.” He nodded. “Still, any good man would be proud to call you their son. I know I would.”
His words reached the depths of my acknowledgment-deprived heart, even if I couldn’t fully understand everything he meant. His words made me tear up with an itch to hug that man, more than I’d had my own father. I wasn’t a crybaby, though. Amanda was right; my dad was mean.
I felt my mother’s arms circle around my shoulder and pull me toward her chest. “Are you okay?” It was just my mom this time.
I nodded, looking at my right hand, covered in Amanda’s blood. “I think I just need to get cleaned up.”
I headed to the room where I was staying. Then her dad’s voice reached me again.
“Eric.” He paused. “You stood up for each other today. It’s a good thing to find. People you rely on.”
I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “She’s my friend.”
Mom exhaled and glanced at Sandro. He tipped his head to me one more time before heading to check on Amanda, my mom lingering a second longer before following him.
As I turned toward the staircase, I caught Amanda’s eyes through the crowd—just for a second, just long enough for her to give me the smallest, crooked smile.
I certainly couldn’t understand the true depth of her smile that day. Not fully. Not the way I do now. Because that day, she chose me, and I chose her. And that, I’m beginning to understand, was everything.
Her soft snores pull me from the past. Her legs and neck are all curled up to fit on the couch.
It looks so uncomfortable that I don’t delay it anymore.
I slide my arms underneath her neck and knees, lift her as I stand, and bring her to my chest. Her curves press against my pecs and stomach, and it feels good to soak in the weight of her in my arms. The blanket moves, allowing me to see the small scar on her right shin.
The memory behind it is permanent on her skin, just as it is etched into my soul.
She cradles into me, and I tense. If she were to murmur any name but mine, it would break another piece of my barely functioning heart.
Mindful of not waking her up, I place her in the center of the futon in my office. If she’s done with Daray—truly done with him…
Just as I slide my arms off Amanda, her eyes open without a trace of anger. She hoards her feelings, though, so I know it’s still there. I push my luck and kiss her forehead.
“I know you’re still pissed. I just couldn’t sleep with you on the couch.”
“I didn’t know there was another option.”
My lips curve into a sour smile. “No, you wouldn’t know this apartment.”
Her eyes flutter close. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.” Her voice is thick with sleep.
I shush her. “Go back to sleep.”
She reaches out and grabs my wrist. Eyes closed again. “Will you stay?”
I pull my office chair closer to the futon and sit, afraid that anything I say will make her request vanish. Amanda’s breathing evens out as I watch her, hand still in mine.
“I’ll stay,” I murmur. “Will you?”
I could tell her a thousand things, but she’s never really needed promises. And the last thing she needs right now is mine. She needs peace. Rather than speak, I settle into the silence, hoping my presence is enough.
Surprisingly, her eyes flicker open, catching mine, and for a moment, it’s not the confusion of before. It’s just us. A brief breath of belonging. She won’t be going elsewhere. Not if I have any say in it. My home will be her home. The way she’s always been mine.
For now, though, it doesn’t need to be anything but a place for her to catch her breath.