47. Chapter 47
Chapter 47
LANE
Ituck Sophie into bed after a bath and books. It’s been two days since I left the hospital. Two more days I haven’t heard from him.
Thanks to my father, I’ve gotten updates, but I still yearn to see him myself. I think about him every moment I’m awake and when I lay my head down to sleep. It’s probably half the reason I’m so exhausted. My brain is running a twenty-four-seven Teagan marathon.
The dozens of texts I sent since he got injured have remained unanswered, so I’m not holding out hope for a reconciliation anytime soon. In fact, I probably need to come to terms with the fact I won’t get one at all.
I’m pulling the blankets up to Sophie’s chest and giving her a kiss goodnight when she yawns and asks, “Can we see Teagan tomorrow?”
I freeze, my heart lurching at the sound of his name. I’ve yet to address Teagan with Sophie, mostly because I’d been hoping he’d at least say something, but he hasn’t and now that she’s asked, I have no idea how to respond.
Unprepared, I swallow over the lump in my throat as my mind races.
This is the exact scenario I’d hoped to prevent by avoiding a relationship. Over the course of the last two months, Sophie’s grown every bit as attached to Teagan as I have, and it absolutely kills me that she’s going to feel the same heartbreak I feel now when she finds out we’re no longer seeing each other. Knowing I’m mostly to blame only makes it worse, second to the fact I can’t shield her from this even if I wanted to.
I inhale through my nose, staring down at her cherubic face. “Um, I don’t know, baby.”
“What about Friday? Can he come to the lake house with us?”
I brush some errant curls off her forehead, and my throat bobs. “Well, remember when I told you he got hurt in the game Saturday?”
She nods.
“He’s probably going to need a lot of rest, so I’m not sure he’ll be going anywhere for a while.”
Her eyes brighten. “He doesn’t have to do anything. He could sit with me and we could read.”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe.” I try for a smile, but it falls flat.
“Maybe means probably not.” She pouts.
Smart girl.
“Well, it’s just that . . . there’s another reason,” I say, and my stomach clenches. “See, Teagan’s kind of upset with Mommy about something right now, and I’m not sure he wants to see me just yet.”
“Why?” Her eyes widen. “Did you do something to him?”
Tears clog the back of my throat, stinging my eyes. “Kinda, yeah.”
“What? Mom, what did you do?”
I didn’t want to get into all of this with her, at least not now. When no one knew the truth, I figured I’d keep the secret forever, but now that it’s out, I’m not sure what’s right anymore. I know there will come a time when Sophie asks about her father, probably sooner rather than later, and I’ll have to address it somehow. But it’s one thing for my parents to know who Sophie’s father is, and it’s quite another to tell a four-year-old, who’s incapable of managing her emotions. Telling her isn’t a decision I can make on the fly. I need to think about it, mull it over with my parents, since I no longer have to struggle through this alone.
“It’s complicated,” I say. “Grown-up stuff.”
She seems to digest this, a furrow between her brow as she says, “Just say you’re sorry. Then he can come over and play with me.”
I exhale. “Oh, baby, I wish it were that simple, I really do.”
“Does this mean he’s not your boyfriend anymore?”
I swallow over the ache in my chest. “I’m not sure.”
She starts to ask another question, but my heart can’t take it, so I reach out and place a finger on her lips. “Just get some sleep, okay? We need to give Teagan time to heal right now.” Both physically and emotionally. “And I promise I’m going to do everything in my power to make things right.”
Even if it’s too late and he won’t give me another chance, I need him to know how much he means to me. I need him to know I’m sorry and why I lied.
“Promise?” she asks, lifting her pinky finger for a pinky promise.
“Promise.” We link fingers before I kiss her goodnight, then hurry out the door, closing it behind me before I lean onto the cold, hard frame.
I press my eyes closed, and the pain sweeping through me threatens to take me out at the knees. A sob catches in the back of my throat, but I hold it in.
Squeezing my lips together, I cover my mouth with my hand, pressing it against my lips as I wrestle for control. Each breath feels like razor blades in my throat. Every beat of my heart a metronome counting the seconds that slip by and Teagan and I are apart.
I gasp, chest tightening with the effort of holding myself together.
I can’t breathe. Can’t move.
My hands turn clammy, my forehead beaded with sweat as my legs buckle out from under me, feet numb as I slide to the floor.
I’m having a panic attack; I know this, but it feels like I’m dying all the same.
I bend my knees and drop my head against them as I try and focus on something positive, but it’s hard when my life has been turned on its ear and the one person I want the most in this moment, the only one who could draw me out of this, is the one person I can’t have.
I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth until the pain in my chest lessens, until my head stops spinning and the feeling returns to my feet.
With shaking hands, I pull out my phone and find Gabby in my contacts, then type out a text: Gabs, I need you. I’m at home.
Then I hit send and wait for her to come.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in my bedroom when Gabby pulls me into a hug. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” I say with a sniff.
“Are you kidding?” Gabby pulls back, taking a good look at me as she says, “Lane Tuner needs no one, so when you get a text from her saying otherwise, you don’t walk, you run.”
Right. My shoulders curl and I let out a shaky breath as I drop down onto my bed.
“Now, tell me what’s wrong.” Gabby walks over to my desk and pulls out the chair so she’s sitting directly in front of me. “Spill.”
“My parents know,” I blurt.
Frowning, she starts, “Your parents—oh!” Understanding ripples through her features and her gaze softens. “They know about Chance.”
I glance down at my hands and nod.
“Does this have anything to do with the rumors I heard about your father taking a leave of absence for the remainder of the season?”
“Yeah,” I croak. “Oh God, Gabs, everything is a mess. Teagan knows, too, and now he’s hurt because of me. It all came out right before their game, so he was distracted on the field. He won’t speak to me, and I don’t blame him. Just weeks ago, he asked me if Chance and I had ever dated and I said no. Then he asked me about Sophie’s father, and I refused to tell him anything, angry he was even asking.”
I take a deep breath, ignoring the churning in my stomach as I remember Sophie’s sweet face as I tucked her into bed. “Sophie misses him already and is starting to ask about him. My father met with Chance in what I assume was an extremely tense and unpleasant confrontation. He’s no longer allowed in our house, not that I care about that. It’s a relief, actually, not to have to see him anymore. My father doesn’t even want anyone speaking his name, and effective as of yesterday, he’s taken a leave of absence from coaching until next season.”
My secret did everything I feared it would; it blew up and took everyone with it.
“This is the part where you say I told you so,” I quip.
“Like I would ever do that.” Gabby sighs, staring at the wall in a way that only inflates the hopelessness living inside my chest.
“I fucked up. Everything is broken and it’s all my fault, and I don’t know how to fix it all.”
“Maybe you can’t.”
My eyes lock with hers. “But I have to.”
“Lane,” Gabby says as she reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, “there are some things that can’t be fixed once broken, but they heal over time. Your parents love you. They’re just shocked and hurt. But they’ll get over it. In a few years, it’ll seem like just a blip in the radar.”
“And Teagan?” I ask, fear coating my words.
The sadness in her eyes speaks volumes as she shakes her head. “I don’t know. But what I do know is you can’t beat yourself up over this. What’s done is done. It’s out there now, and there’s a certain kind of freedom in telling the truth. Embrace it. Learn from this and move on. It’s all you can do. And if Teagan doesn’t want you afterward, well . . .” Gabby trails off, her words leaving scales on my heart.
“But it can’t be over,” I whisper.
Exhaling, Gabby reaches out and grabs my hand. “Listen to me, Lane. I watched you beat yourself up over getting pregnant. Part of me thinks you’ve punished yourself ever since. You made one mistake, Lane. One. You think you’re the only person who had sex a little too young? You think you’re the only person who regretted it after? Who should have waited and wished she had?” Gabby shakes her head. “Hell, Lane, if I counted every person I know that matched that description, I wouldn’t have enough hands or fingers. The only difference is you got pregnant, and those other people didn’t. But they could have. Every single one of those people who match that description could’ve easily been in your shoes, myself included. It doesn’t make any of them better than you. You’re not less than them because the fucking condom broke.”
My cheeks heat, and I glance away from her. The urge to rebut everything she just said runs so deep I have to press my mouth closed to keep from arguing.
“But guess what? You took responsibility. You did right by yourself, by Sophie. Hell, ever since then, you’ve spent the last four years trying to prove yourself like you’re on some kind of redemption mission. I’ve watched you run yourself fucking ragged to ensure you’re not a burden on those you love because of the weight of your choices. I’ve watched you refuse to let your mom watch Sophie or even let me to take her for a day, just because we shouldn’t have to, or you don’t want to be an inconvenience. The only problem with this line of thinking, the one thing you seem to ignore, is that we fucking want Sophie.”
She pulls away from me now, on a rampage as she shoots to her feet, pacing in front of me.
I open my mouth to speak, but I don’t dare stop her when she points and glares. “It’s like you’ve been punishing yourself for four fucking years. And to what end? You’re hellbent on doing everything on your own like you’re not worthy of help because of one bad choice made years ago.”
My insides twist at the truth in her words. I throw my hands up, frustrated and defensive and . . . lost. “So, what’s your point? What are you even trying to say?”
She pauses, eyes like darts finding their target when they lock with mine. “I’m trying to say that you need to stop punishing yourself and start fucking living, Lane. Meeting Teagan was the best damn thing that ever happened to you because for the first time in your life, I watched you give up a little of that control. I’ve watched you release your foothold on this idea of perfection, or that you’re not worthy.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I scoff, crossing my arms over the frantic beating of my heart. “What is it I think I’m not worthy of?”
“Hell if I know.” Gabby throws her hands up. “Time, help, love, or whatever the fuck else you have in that head of yours. These past two months, I’ve watched you not only openly accept help but ask for it instead of being so damn stubborn and doing everything yourself. You’ve taken the proverbial bull by the horns and I fucking love it.”
My guts twist painfully. “Yeah, well, that’s over now. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But what I do know is we accept the love we think we deserve. And ever since you found out you were pregnant, you think you don’t deserve anything good, Lane, unless it’s fucking hard-earned by you.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from my lungs. I open my mouth to speak, to deny it, but she beats me to the punch.
“And maybe that’s the problem. From the moment Teagan met you, he gave himself freely. He was smitten with you from day one. Hell, I could see the love in that boy’s eyes from the start, but you didn’t think you deserved him. You didn’t think you deserved love or a relationship or happiness, telling yourself no one wants a young, single mom. And so, you pushed him away. And once you could no longer do that, you did the one thing that ensured you’d self-destruct. You withheld the truth from him, the one person you should’ve confided in.”
She flops back down in the desk chair, and her whole body sags. “Self-sabotage is a bitch.”