Chapter 30
REED
Durango, Colorado
Age Seventeen
Taylor quit speaking to him on a Monday.
All week, Reed had tried to talk to her.
He looked for her at lunch but only found an empty seat where she usually sat.
In the halls, he’d spot her from a distance, but the second he’d start her way, she seemed to disappear.
Anytime he bumped into one of her friends, they stared at him like he’d done something wrong, like he’d hurt her somehow.
But he hadn’t. Reed loved her and she loved him. They’d been saying it for months now.
I love you. The first time she’d told him was after a party at Jason Callahan’s house.
He thought it was because she’d had too much to drink.
But then she’d said it again the next day during a movie.
She’d whispered those three words into his ear and it felt like a spark coming to life in his chest. When he said it back, the spark whooshed into a flame.
Reed loved her, he did—so why wouldn’t she speak to him? The question left him in a panic.
“You need to leave that girl alone,” Aunt Beth said on Wednesday, looking up from painting her nails at the table after he’d tried to call Taylor three times. “She clearly needs some space.”
He had given her space. Or rather she’d taken it. His phone bore witness, the screen awash in his one-way texts:
Where are you?
Why won’t you talk to me?
Did I do something?
Taylor, I need to see you.
What’s the matter?
Just write back already. Please.
By Friday, he’d had enough. That night, he showered, shaved, and put on his best outfit—a plaid button-up dress shirt and a dark pair of blue jeans—then headed for the door.
Aunt Beth stopped him. “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”
“No,” he lied.
“Reed, don’t do it. Sometimes a woman has a reason for what she does, and right now, that girl doesn’t want to talk to you. Give her some time and she’ll come around.”
Something about the way the kitchen light framed Aunt Beth made her look soft in the moment, like she might actually be concerned.
Like she might actually care about him. But Reed knew she didn’t.
She never had. She’d only grudgingly taken him in out of obligation to his father.
What she thought didn’t matter. He’d be gone soon enough anyway, and she’d never have to think about him again.
He turned and pushed through the door.
Thirty minutes later, he sat in front of the White ranch, which wasn’t really a ranch at all.
There weren’t any animals or crops or anything.
But it was way out in the middle of nowhere and it was easy enough to imagine a herd of cows roaming over the twenty-acre spread, grazing on wild buffalo grass or a stretch of wheat growing somewhere on the property.
Everyone called it a ranch, though, so that was how Reed thought about it—as a ranch.
One he tried his best to avoid if Judge White was home.
When Judge White wasn’t around, he loved this place.
The basement held a massive theater where he and Taylor would make out …
and sometimes do more than that. They’d spend entire days lying in the sun on the front porch, drinking beer and screwing around when no one else was home.
If they grew bored, they’d ride ATVs around the property or wander down to the pond near the cottonwoods and feed bread to the ducks.
Everything about the house was great, but what Reed loved most about it was that it belonged to Taylor.
She was home now. He could see her red Toyota Camry sitting on the driveway next to her father’s Mercedes.
The sight filled him with anxiety. Maybe Aunt Beth had a point.
Maybe he shouldn’t be here. Taylor was definitely pissed off for some reason.
He just didn’t know why. But whatever it was, she would get over it.
They loved each other. They just needed to talk.
No time like the present, Reed thought as he got out of his car. By the time he reached the front door he felt tight and nervous, already sweating through his shirt. He rang the doorbell. A sound like a gong came from inside the house, followed by footsteps.
Hard footsteps.
Deep footsteps.
Judge White’s footsteps.
Shit.
He flung the door open and looked down at Reed like he was a fly skittering over glass—something to be squashed.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping to talk to Taylor, sir.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Hasn’t she made that clear?”
Reed didn’t know what to say to that.
The judge scowled, the sunspots on his cheeks darkening.
Reed felt frozen beneath the man’s glare, unable to move.
Hate rose off the judge like steam. The man had always disliked Reed, but this was different.
Reed could practically see the judge’s disgust coiling through the air as he spoke.
“That you actually have the nerve to step foot on my property after what you’ve done is—”
“Daddy, stop!” Taylor’s voice swam toward Reed like honey. She appeared next to her father and placed a hand on his arm. “Let me talk to him.”
Judge White’s gaze remained on Reed. “That’s not a good idea, punkin.”
“Please,” she said. “Ten minutes.”
Her father pulled a breath in through his nose and exhaled. “Fine. Ten minutes, but no more.”
Taylor slipped past him and shut the door, then took Reed’s hand and pulled him toward the corner of the covered patio. They settled onto the porch swing. The sun bathed the horizon in orange and pink light. Reed took Taylor’s hand, but she immediately pulled it free and returned it to her lap.
“What’s wrong?” Reed asked. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“Reed, I need to … tell you something.”
“Okay,” he said, waiting for her to continue. But she didn’t speak. She just sat there, staring at the mountains, shaking her head. When a tear cut from the corner of her eye, across her cheek, Reed had to resist the urge to pull her into his arms. Seeing her like this was absolutely killing him.
Finally, she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”
A churning sensation filled his gut. Had he heard that right? Pregnant? It was the absolute last thing he’d expected her to say. He’d thought maybe he’d said something bad about one of her friends or had accidentally insulted her the last time they’d talked. But this? Pregnant? Never this.
“I don’t understand,” he said, scratching his head. “We’ve been careful.” And they had. They’d been having sex for six months now, and Reed always used a condom. Except for the last few times because Taylor had gotten on birth control.
She brushed her fingers over the back of his hand. “I know.” She chewed her bottom lip and shook her head. “But it happened. I’ve taken the test three times.”
“Three times? And you’re only telling me now?” Reed’s shock swung toward anger. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I …” She turned away from him and hung her head. “I should have. I’m sorry. When it happened, I was so devastated. I didn’t know what to do. My mom saw me crying and I just blurted it out.”
“But you told your friends, too,” Reed said, still reeling. She must have. They’d been staring at him like he was the devil all week long, shooting daggers his way like this was his fault and Taylor carried none of the blame.
A tear dripped off her chin and landed warm on Reed’s wrist. “No, I didn’t. My mom called Laura’s mom. Word got out.” Her shoulders slumped. “I should have told you sooner, though. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.” And then she was sobbing, crying and shaking her head.
Reed pulled her close and cupped her warm, wet cheeks and tilted her gaze to his. Her dark walnut eyes glimmered in the fading light. “Hey, okay. Yeah, this is serious. It is. But we’ll be okay. Taylor, we can do this together.”
“What do you mean ‘do this’?” she asked hesitantly.
“I can find a job, something that pays well. You can still go to college. We both can. Everything will be fine.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You … want to keep it?”
He hesitated, stunned by her words. It felt weird to hear her call their child it. But he brushed that aside and said, “Of course, I do. Don’t you?”
“Reed, I …” Her voice quivered. She looked up at the sky, as if deep in thought. Her lips tightened.
A dark cloud of doubt spilled over Reed—like someone had released a vial of ink in his blood. “Wait, you don’t want to?” He couldn’t believe it, but he knew she didn’t. Already, he knew.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said. “We’re just so young. I’m not ready to be a parent.”
“That doesn’t matter. This is our baby.” Reed could already see his face outlined on the child’s, could already hear its gurgling laugh.
He’d never wanted a kid before—hell no, not at his age, it was the last thing on his mind—but if it was with Taylor, it was okay.
More than okay. It felt right. And he’d sworn to himself if he ever did have a kid, he’d never abandon it; not like his mom had abandoned him.
“It’s not your body, Reed,” Taylor said. “This isn’t your choice.”
“What are you saying?”
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “I’m not keeping it. We can’t.”
Her words felt like a ball of ice landing in his lap. She moved to stand, but he grabbed her hand and held her there. “Wait, please don’t do this. Think about it at least.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I have. I’m sorry. If you truly love me, you’ll come with me tomorrow.”
“Where?” he asked, fighting for something else to say that would keep her there.
“To end it.” And then she pulled her hand from his and rushed back into the house.