I wipe away a fresh tear with the pad of my thumb. “No buts,” I assure her.
“They all think I’m not keeping the baby.”
That’s what our parents want. They gave us an ultimatum.
“Fuck what they think.”
Her hand covers my own against her cheek. “It’s not that easy.”
Blowing out a breath, I know she’s right. In this moment, I hate myself. It’s my fault that she’s eighteen and pregnant. She should be heading off to college; instead, she is dealing with this.
“I know.” I sigh.
“I’m ruining our lives.”
I react quickly to her statement. I bring my other hand to frame her face, and I hold her firm.
“Listen to me, you are not. We are in this together. Your decision is my decision. This isn’t what we planned, not now, but it doesn’t matter. You and I are now connected for life, and that ain’t half bad.” I’m barely hanging on but do my best to bring a positive.
Her eyes stay locked on me. “We’re going to be parents,” she laments.
“In around seven months, yes,” I remind her, and the corner of my mouth attempts to smile, but I struggle and can’t.
This is the girl I love, whose smile melts me more every time. It feels like yesterday I met her at a party on the lakeshore. Our families were in Lake Spark for the weekend, as they often are, since my family has a weekend house here. I met Brielle at a friend’s party. She was wearing a light pink sweater that fell off her shoulder, and every time our eyes met, I was drawn to her a little more. Then, there around the bonfire, I made my move and asked her if she liked ice. She laughed in my face because she thought the next thing I would say is that I was a hockey player. She went hysterical and couldn’t stop grinning when I, indeed, confirmed that I was in my first year of college playing hockey.
But our talk turned into hours. I gave her my hoodie by the end of the night, and over the weeks and months that followed, she was mine, and most weekends we would see one another. We could never keep our hands off each other, and every chance we had, we would lie on the shore late into the night or take the boat out to the secret lagoon.
I love her.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. I see her in my future, watching my games, and one day, when I’m making millions, I’ll give her anything she wants.
Right now, she wants this.
And I do too.
“We’ll tell our parents together that we changed our minds,” I breathe out.
I see the fear in her eyes.
For weeks, since the moment Brielle told me she thought she was pregnant and we took a test, we’ve been going back and forth over what to do. We told our parents together that Brielle was pregnant. They all made it clear what they thought the solution was, which is why we are sitting here in a parking lot for an appointment that we promised we would make.
As much as she’s eighteen and I’m near twenty, we are barely adults.
I’ve been drafted for pro hockey, but I haven’t signed a contract yet, and Elle is supposed to start college in a few weeks.
She sits back, causing my hands to drop from her face. She rests her head against the seat but turns to pin her eyes on me.
“Margo convinced them to let us have another option,” I repeat the facts.
Margo heard our parents yelling in the living room after a summer BBQ where we thought was the opportunity to tell them. Brielle’s parents were angry that I ruined their daughter’s future of becoming a lawyer, reminding my parents that their only child is barely eighteen, and my father was worried my future as a pro athlete would be no more and that my girlfriend is ruining my focus on the sport, not to mention the example I’m setting for my little sister. My mother didn’t have much opinion since we barely see her after my parents divorced.
Margo calmed everyone down and convinced them to be more supportive, but our parents’ version of supportive is meeting us only halfway.
And this is where I try to suppress my own tears.
Because our other option should be easy, but it’s not, as it means I don’t have Brielle.
“There must be another way.” Her voice cracks.
