Chapter 24 #2
Kneeling beside me, close enough that I could feel his warmth, he stroked a thumb over my throat, right where the stone had once nestled, and kissed me gently. Pulling back, he stared into my eyes and gave a small smile. “I’m glad you remember.”
I smiled, and my eyes landed on an old iPhone in the back of the drawer. I searched around and found a charger for it and plugged it in, knowing exactly what I was looking for.
I navigated to the voicemail and hit the message I’d never deleted.
And just like that, the years vanished as my mom’s voice filled the room. “Hey, hon, don’t snack when you get home. I’m making your favorite—lasagna. Love you.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until Tucker gently turned me to face him.
“She’d love seeing you now,” he said, brushing my tears away. “Strong. Smart. Unstoppable. Beyond talented.”
He thought I was strong. And I wanted to be. So I drew in a deep breath and opened the next drawer, knowing what I would find before I saw it.
A book with the sonogram tucked inside. The one I’d never shown to anyone, including Tucker.
My breath stuttered with sudden nerves, but I didn’t hide it. I wanted to be honest—I needed to be honest. For a beat, I stared at it, heart drumming. I felt the air in the room turn thick, like the walls were closing in on me.
Not my first time feeling this way. That day all those years ago when I’d realized I’d missed a period, the walls had closed in on me too. I bought a home test, even as I convinced myself it was a fluke.
After all, I’d slept with only one person, and we’d been so careful. At least, as careful as two stupid, hormonal teenagers could be.
I took the test, then stared at it in shock.
Earlier that day, I’d done something stupid.
I’d been caught tagging the gazebo and had ended up with a ride to the police station.
When my dad had shown up to take me home, he’d sat me down at the kitchen table and told me he couldn’t do this anymore, that I needed to change, get my shit together, or… get out.
Even knowing my dad hadn’t meant it, as always, my teenage pride had taken the worst possible choice.
As I remembered the loneliness and anger and hurt now, all of it crashed down on me, just as it had when, later that night, Tucker hadn’t shown up at our rendezvous spot.
Now he was watching me, quiet. Patient.
“I need to tell you something.” My voice felt raw, thick with the years of silence. “Something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. Something I’ve never told anyone.”
I could see the wariness in his eyes, but he nodded. Even gave me a small encouraging smile, tugging me closer, cuddling me into him. “You can tell me anything, Haze. You know that.”
Closing my eyes, I gave myself a few seconds to burrow in. No one hugged like Tucker—no one. He gave every inch of himself over, wrapping me up in those arms, kissing my temple, holding me tight.
But as I knew all too well, all good things came to an end. I backed out of the hug and handed him the sonogram.
He stared at it in confusion, taking in the date at the top, before his eyes widened in realization. “Is this a—”
“Fetus masquerading as a tiny bean? Yeah.” I tried to calm my pounding heart. “I miscarried a few days after the ultrasound.”
He made a wounded sound. “You were pregnant.”
“Yes,” I whispered, guilt crashing over me in waves.
He inhaled sharply, gaze flying to mine. “Mine?”
When I nodded, he stared at the ultrasound in shock.
He backed up a step and sat heavily on the bed, like his legs had gone weak.
His hands gripped the edge of the mattress, white-knuckled.
His sudden tension, the weight of his disbelief and confusion, rolled over me like a tsunami.
Finally, he drew in a deep breath and lifted his head, eyes unreadable now. “Tell me everything.”
So I did. I told him how I’d found out, how I’d left, how I’d gotten two states away before the cramping had started, then the horror of realizing what it had meant.
I let it all spill out, my voice trembling, breath hitching as I relived the memories of being in a faraway hospital with strangers, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life.
Tucker listened intently. He didn’t interrupt, but I could feel guilt and regret emanating from him as I finished.
When I had, for a moment, the only sounds in the room were my breath and the soft hum of the world outside.
“I really need you to say something now,” I finally whispered, hands tightly clasped in my lap where I sat at his side, not touching.
He reached out and put one of his big, warm hands over mine. “You should have told me.”
The words hit me like a slap. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did this happen to you?”
His expression tightened. “No. But it happened to you, and you were everything to me.”
Were.
The past tense sliced through me.
He reached for the sonogram again, staring at it like it had the power to shatter him. “This was our baby.” He lifted his gaze. “Did anyone know?”
I shook my head.
He did the same, the betrayal in his voice cutting deeper than any knife when he said, “Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t be there for you?”
“I…” How to explain? “I was going to tell you that night, but—”
“I didn’t show up.” He flinched, then drew a slow breath, as if his legendary composure had slipped. “I get it. Your default always was—and is—to assume the worst of people. That they look at you and see the worst of you. That they’ll fail you because of it.”
Hard to be insulted with the truth.
He closed his eyes, a hand pressed to his chest like it’d caved in, like he couldn’t deal with the thought of what had happened to me.
This, more than anything, slid right beneath my defenses and shook me to the core. He cared. He cared deeply, and he was right. I should have tried talking to him before I left. “I’m sorry—”
“No.” He looked stricken. “Don’t apologize.
You aren’t to blame for the miscarriage.
Or your reaction to it. Or my reaction, for that matter.
I just…” He shook his head. “You were scared and alone, and I wasn’t there.
I didn’t show up. But, Hazel—God, if I’d known, I would’ve. You shouldn’t have been alone.”
Our eyes met and held, and I wondered if mine reflected the same devastation in his. “You think I needed saving.”
“No.” His voice cracked. “But I know you, Haze. You don’t let people in. You don’t trust. And you don’t believe you can be loved as is.”
The harsh truth spelled out for me hit swift and hard, stealing my breath. Because this, this was my deepest, darkest secret, and to have it thrown at me so easily like he’d always known…
I stood, shame and panic and old reflexes kicking in hard, clouding my decision-making. “I take back what I said about wanting you to speak.”
His smile was grim and short-lived as he stood as well. “You want to know why you didn’t call me? Because you didn’t believe I’d choose you. You never really believed I would.”
I crossed my arms. “I’d like to be alone now.”
He nodded. “That tracks.”
Temper felt a whole lot better than the sadness and grief.
“It was you who didn’t show that night. And I know you had your reasons and they’re valid, but you broke my heart, and it’s still in pieces.
Even if I wanted to give it away again, which I don’t, I can’t. I won’t.” I opened my old bedroom door.
To my shock, he headed for it, before stopping to say one last thing.
“If I’d known, I’d have torn the world apart to get to you, Hazel,” he said, quiet but fierce. “Even if you didn’t want me there, I’d have sat outside that hospital to be with you in spirit so you wouldn’t be alone.”