The entire hour I was waiting for him, I gave myself pep talk after pep talk. I ordered myself to put on my big-girl pants and deal with this pregnancy the way I deal with everything else in my life—head on. I reminded myself that Tuck had said I’ve got you, that he’d support whatever I chose to do.
But none of that had succeeded in ridding me of the fear clinging to my throat.
Now the fear is even worse, for a whole other reason.
“Beau is dead?” My heart pounds dangerously fast. I’m scared it’s going to give out on me.
I’m scared of the grief I see in Tucker’s eyes.
“Yes. He’s gone, darlin’.”
I can’t understand it. I can’t. Beau is Briar’s starting quarterback. Beau is my friend. Beau’s dimples always pop out when he’s flashing you a particularly naughty grin. Beau is…
Dead.
A car accident, apparently. His father survived but Beau died.
The tears I’ve been fighting spill over and stream down my cheeks in salty rivulets. I try to breathe between sobs, but it’s hard, and eventually I’m hyperventilating. That’s when Tucker wraps me up in a warm, tight embrace.
“Breathe,” he whispers into my hair.
I try, I really do, but the oxygen isn’t getting in.
“Breathe.” Firmer this time, and his hands are moving up and down my back in comforting sweeps.
I manage to take a breath, and then another, and another, until I’m not feeling quite so dizzy. The tears are still falling, though. And my chest feels like someone sliced it open and is poking it with a hot blade.
“He’s…” I gulp. “…was. He was such a good guy, Tuck.”
“I know.”
“He was good and young and he shouldn’t be dead,” I say fiercely.
“I know.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
Tucker holds me tighter. I burrow against him until there’s nowhere left to go. His strong, solid body is the anchor I need right now. It allows me to cry and curse and rail at the world, because I know Tuck is here, listening to me and steadying me and reminding me to breathe.
A loud knock causes both of us to jump.
“Keep it down in there,” comes Ray’s horrible voice. “‘The hell am I s’posed to watch the game if I can hear you bawling all the way from the living room? You on the rag or somethin’?”
A strangled sob flies out of my mouth. Oh God. Nothing like an interruption from Ray to highlight what an emotional mess I am—an emotional mess who isn’t having her period. Because she’s goddamn pregnant.
My breathing grows shallow again.
Tucker keeps stroking my back as he answers my stepfather. “If you can’t hear the TV, turn up the volume,” he calls tightly.
There’s a beat, then, “Is that you, jock boy? Didn’t realize Rina had company.”
“We walked right past him when you let me in,” Tucker mutters to me.
Yeah, we had. But Ray’s drunker than usual tonight. He spent the whole day at a sports bar with his buddies, getting loaded while they watched the afternoon football games.
“He could barely walk in a straight line when he got home this evening,” I mutter back.
Ray pipes up again, slurring like crazy. “Mus’ not be too good in the sack if you’re making the bitch cry!”
I grab Tucker’s arm before he can stand up. “Ignore him,” I whisper. Then I raise my voice and address Ray. “Go watch your game. We’ll keep it down.”
After another beat, his footsteps thump away.
Tears stain my face as I nestle against Tucker again. “W-will you…” I clear my aching throat. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Not even a question,” he murmurs before dropping a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m here for as long as you need me, baby.”
20
Tucker
The stadium is a sea of black and silver. Thousands of people are in attendance, and a good number of them wear Briar football jerseys beneath their unzipped coats. Those who aren’t wear the school colors.
On the field, a large stage has been raised, where Beau’s teammates and family sit. Alumni flew in from all over the country to honor our fallen quarterback. Kids who didn’t even know Beau are here. Faces are somber and the mood is subdued.
It’s fucking awful.
I’m sitting in the bleachers behind the home bench, with Garrett on my left. Hannah’s beside him, then Logan and Grace, then Allie—who’s alone.
Dean has been a total mess this week. He’s in a destructive spiral, skipping practices and locking himself in his room, drunk out of his mind most of the time. The other night he got so high that he passed out on the living room couch, half his body on the cushions, the other sprawled on the floor. Logan carried him upstairs while Allie trailed after them, near tears.
I keep wanting to reassure Allie that Dean will get through this, but honestly, my mind has been all over the place this week.
The reason for my anguish is sitting on my other side. I don’t think Garrett and the others even realize Sabrina’s here—their gazes are fixed on the field, where a huge projection screen is showing highlights from Beau’s four years at Briar University. Actually, make that five years. Beau redshirted his freshman year, so this is technically his fifth year. Was his fifth year. Lord, it’s hard to remember that he’s actually gone.
It’s cold out, so the sleeve of my bulky coat kind of disguises that I’m clutching Sabrina’s hand. I want to put my arm around her, kiss her cheek, hold her close, but I don’t think Beau’s memorial is the time to be announcing our relationship to the world. It’s surreal to me, though, that the girl next to me is pregnant with my child and nobody has a clue.
We haven’t spoken about the baby at all. I don’t know if Sabrina is planning on scheduling a procedure. Hell, for all I know she’s already gone through with it. I’d like to think that she’d include me if and when the time comes, but she’s been so distant this week. Beau’s death hit her hard. And witnessing what it’s done to Dean makes me even more hesitant to push Sabrina to talk, not when she’s dealing with the loss of a friend.
A quiet sob sounds from a few seats over. It’s Hannah. The choked noise alerts me to the fact that the slideshow of Beau’s life has ended. His older sister Joanna is rising from her seat.
But none of that had succeeded in ridding me of the fear clinging to my throat.
Now the fear is even worse, for a whole other reason.
“Beau is dead?” My heart pounds dangerously fast. I’m scared it’s going to give out on me.
I’m scared of the grief I see in Tucker’s eyes.
“Yes. He’s gone, darlin’.”
I can’t understand it. I can’t. Beau is Briar’s starting quarterback. Beau is my friend. Beau’s dimples always pop out when he’s flashing you a particularly naughty grin. Beau is…
Dead.
A car accident, apparently. His father survived but Beau died.
The tears I’ve been fighting spill over and stream down my cheeks in salty rivulets. I try to breathe between sobs, but it’s hard, and eventually I’m hyperventilating. That’s when Tucker wraps me up in a warm, tight embrace.
“Breathe,” he whispers into my hair.
I try, I really do, but the oxygen isn’t getting in.
“Breathe.” Firmer this time, and his hands are moving up and down my back in comforting sweeps.
I manage to take a breath, and then another, and another, until I’m not feeling quite so dizzy. The tears are still falling, though. And my chest feels like someone sliced it open and is poking it with a hot blade.
“He’s…” I gulp. “…was. He was such a good guy, Tuck.”
“I know.”
“He was good and young and he shouldn’t be dead,” I say fiercely.
“I know.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
Tucker holds me tighter. I burrow against him until there’s nowhere left to go. His strong, solid body is the anchor I need right now. It allows me to cry and curse and rail at the world, because I know Tuck is here, listening to me and steadying me and reminding me to breathe.
A loud knock causes both of us to jump.
“Keep it down in there,” comes Ray’s horrible voice. “‘The hell am I s’posed to watch the game if I can hear you bawling all the way from the living room? You on the rag or somethin’?”
A strangled sob flies out of my mouth. Oh God. Nothing like an interruption from Ray to highlight what an emotional mess I am—an emotional mess who isn’t having her period. Because she’s goddamn pregnant.
My breathing grows shallow again.
Tucker keeps stroking my back as he answers my stepfather. “If you can’t hear the TV, turn up the volume,” he calls tightly.
There’s a beat, then, “Is that you, jock boy? Didn’t realize Rina had company.”
“We walked right past him when you let me in,” Tucker mutters to me.
Yeah, we had. But Ray’s drunker than usual tonight. He spent the whole day at a sports bar with his buddies, getting loaded while they watched the afternoon football games.
“He could barely walk in a straight line when he got home this evening,” I mutter back.
Ray pipes up again, slurring like crazy. “Mus’ not be too good in the sack if you’re making the bitch cry!”
I grab Tucker’s arm before he can stand up. “Ignore him,” I whisper. Then I raise my voice and address Ray. “Go watch your game. We’ll keep it down.”
After another beat, his footsteps thump away.
Tears stain my face as I nestle against Tucker again. “W-will you…” I clear my aching throat. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Not even a question,” he murmurs before dropping a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m here for as long as you need me, baby.”
20
Tucker
The stadium is a sea of black and silver. Thousands of people are in attendance, and a good number of them wear Briar football jerseys beneath their unzipped coats. Those who aren’t wear the school colors.
On the field, a large stage has been raised, where Beau’s teammates and family sit. Alumni flew in from all over the country to honor our fallen quarterback. Kids who didn’t even know Beau are here. Faces are somber and the mood is subdued.
It’s fucking awful.
I’m sitting in the bleachers behind the home bench, with Garrett on my left. Hannah’s beside him, then Logan and Grace, then Allie—who’s alone.
Dean has been a total mess this week. He’s in a destructive spiral, skipping practices and locking himself in his room, drunk out of his mind most of the time. The other night he got so high that he passed out on the living room couch, half his body on the cushions, the other sprawled on the floor. Logan carried him upstairs while Allie trailed after them, near tears.
I keep wanting to reassure Allie that Dean will get through this, but honestly, my mind has been all over the place this week.
The reason for my anguish is sitting on my other side. I don’t think Garrett and the others even realize Sabrina’s here—their gazes are fixed on the field, where a huge projection screen is showing highlights from Beau’s four years at Briar University. Actually, make that five years. Beau redshirted his freshman year, so this is technically his fifth year. Was his fifth year. Lord, it’s hard to remember that he’s actually gone.
It’s cold out, so the sleeve of my bulky coat kind of disguises that I’m clutching Sabrina’s hand. I want to put my arm around her, kiss her cheek, hold her close, but I don’t think Beau’s memorial is the time to be announcing our relationship to the world. It’s surreal to me, though, that the girl next to me is pregnant with my child and nobody has a clue.
We haven’t spoken about the baby at all. I don’t know if Sabrina is planning on scheduling a procedure. Hell, for all I know she’s already gone through with it. I’d like to think that she’d include me if and when the time comes, but she’s been so distant this week. Beau’s death hit her hard. And witnessing what it’s done to Dean makes me even more hesitant to push Sabrina to talk, not when she’s dealing with the loss of a friend.
A quiet sob sounds from a few seats over. It’s Hannah. The choked noise alerts me to the fact that the slideshow of Beau’s life has ended. His older sister Joanna is rising from her seat.
