“I’m sorry,” I said immediately, and tears pricked his eyes so fast it broke something in me.
He stepped back, letting me in without speaking.The house was clean, too clean even for Chase.The kind of order that only happens when someone is desperate to control even one small piece of their world.
We sat on the couch, the silence thick but not uncomfortable.
“I shouldn’t have disappeared on you,” I said.“You were there and I just… left you alone with it.”
He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands.
“I didn’t know if you hated me,” he said quietly.“I keep replaying everything.Wondering if I missed something.If there was something else I could’ve done.I was the first one there...I should’ve...”
“Stop.”My voice came out firmer than I intended.“Chase… you were the only reason I got to say goodbye.You got him out.You kept him alive long enough for him to hear me.To hear about the baby.You gave us that.”
He shook his head, jaw trembling.
“I am a Doctor Tessa,” he whispered.“I wish that I could have saved him.I can't sleep.Every time I close my eyes, I hear your voice, your scream for me to do something.”
“Oh, Chase,” I said softly.“I know you did everything you could.”
We sat in quiet for a moment, his grief sitting beside mine like an old friend neither of us invited.
“You don’t have to carry it alone; you can talk to me,” I said.
He looked at me, and something unknotted in his expression.
“I’m here,” I told him.“And I’m not going to disappear on you again.I really am sorry, Chase.”
He nodded, wiping his face with the heel of his hand.
“Good,” he muttered, voice thick.“Because I’m really bad at losing people.”
The baby kicked then, hard enough that I winced.Chase’s eyes widened.
“Was that?”
“Yeah,” I breathed.
I shifted to give her more space, and Chase moved with me, like he needed the connection.He placed his hand on my rolling belly and laughed.That laugh turned into a sob, and I pulled him into me.
"It's ok, Chase.Let it out....I am here.... I am so sorry I left you alone in this."
He cried while I spoke softly to him, and eventually, he fell asleep next to me on the couch, his hand spread across my belly, with my baby girl pushed up against his palm like she wanted in on the cuddles too.
One morning, I drove to the cemetery alone.The sky was soft gray, the grass wet with dew.His headstone was simple, exactly what he would’ve wanted.
I traced his name with the tips of my fingers.
“I’m sorry it took me a while to come,” I whispered.“I wasn’t ready.”
The wind rustled through the pines behind me.Somewhere far off, a truck door slammed, a reminder that life went on around us.
“I’m trying,” I said.“I’m really trying, Nate.For her.For me.For what you wanted us to have.”
My throat burned.
“I miss you,” I whispered.“But I’m going to live the life you walked toward.I promise.”
The baby kicked, but softer than usual.I pressed a hand to my belly, looking down at his name.
