Page 12 of Everything But Mine

CHAPTER FOUR

ERIC

As I lie in bed staring at my ceiling, I can’t shake this shameful excitement running through my veins, knowing Amanda is just one room away. Earlier tonight, when we sat and planned for her to raise his child almost alone, I thought all my chances with her were lost. But she came to me, and she’s now here.

The shadows on top of me flicker, and I fist the sheets under me to keep myself from spiraling. I’m no one’s choice. Not even yours. Amanda’s words echo in my head with the clear message that her feelings are also unresolved. I thought I was doing the right thing by stepping back from her, freeing her from the pain that was us, but I set her up to be hurt. I can’t shake the spark in her eyes, her words more daring than resignation. A challenge to prove her wrong.

But can I? She is carrying someone else’s child. That’s not going away. Daray’s abandonment changes nothing. He was barely providing shit in her original plan, anyway. She won’t change her mind. Her first child will always be Daray’s. With that reality, can I still throw myself, heart and soul, at proving to her that she’s my choice?

I won’t have her sleeping on that couch. It’s tiny and uncomfortable, and she’s fucking pregnant and defeated. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m standing over her. The rise and fall of her chest shows that she’s already out like a light. Confrontations exhaust her, but if I let her sleep here, her neck will be killing her in the morning.

I make quick work of clearing up my office and setting up the futon, making it into a bed, and fluffing some throw pillows. Back in the front room, I sit on the coffee table, watching her sleeping form. Her breathing soothes me. Her hair cascades down her face and off the couch. A life with Amanda Donato has been the dream I never dared chase. It wasn’t always this convoluted between us. There were times it was crystal clear.

As a twelve-year-old, I couldn’t remember a summer when we didn’t come here. Every year, the same damn place—this cabin by the lake, the woods, the creek running through it all, and waterfalls left and right, each more impressive.

I didn’t have a say. Mom would drag me. We’d meet up with the whole gang—her gang. Even if half of them gossiped behind her back about how she’d ended up alone with a kid she was struggling to raise. Especially, with the added torture of Dad being there. Not that I was allowed to call him Dad. My father’s identity was a mystery to Mom’s friends because I was his dirty little secret. He’d be with his family on these trips, and seeing him with his wife made Mom’s smile sad. I hated it. I hated him.

The adults were always caught up in their talking, cooking, drinking, card playing and whatever else, but us kids—well, we had the woods to ourselves. So, the boys and I would explore and do dumb shit. I would, especially, if his kid, Keith, came around. Because he got to call him “Dad.” Meanwhile, I had to play fatherless child in front of all of their friends who had no idea. Only my mom’s closest friends knew—Amanda’s parents.

Out by the lake again, standing at the edge of the highest waterfall, at least nine feet down to the water below. We were eyeing the rocks’ sharp and jagged edges on the inevitable fall down. Keith, my half brother, who was clueless about who his dad was to me, zeroed in on me like he could sense I had a right to something of his. We all dared each other to do it, but he came straight for the jugular. “Maybe if you had the balls to jump, your daddy wouldn’t have left you.” They got so silent, we could hear every cricket and critter. He thought I’d jump like an idiot. Instead, I went straight after him, fist balled and ready. I was about to make contact when she came out; Amanda.

“If you’re so tough, why don’t you jump first?” Hands on her hips. Taunting. She was half his size. “Maybe your daddy will stop liking you if you don’t.” At the time, I hitched my breath. Amanda knew. She’d just had her tenth birthday. Keith thought she was just a child. Still, she’d always been smart. And loyal. “What? You like making dares, but won’t do one yourself?”

I didn’t expect what came next; her approaching the edge of the rocks. She wasn’t scared of the water or the jump. No, Amanda just walked right up to the edge without a second thought.

“You guys are all chickens.” She poked fun at us, making clucking sounds and gestures. As if she hadn’t just walked in on me about to hit someone. And with that mischievous grin on her face, she ran to the edge and jumped.

We collectively held our breaths, sprinting to look downward just as we heard the splash of her body hitting the water. Slowly, as the whiteness of the splash receded, a red halo spread in the water. With difficulty, she moved to shore. As she pulled herself out, she clutched at her leg, completely covered in blood that was quickly pooling even more around her foot.

“Shit,” I muttered. I turned to the others. None of them were moving, mouths open at the sight of blood.

I don’t know what exactly snapped inside me, but I bolted for the water’s edge, my heart pounding as I jumped after her. That tiny girl had just gone to war for me. I came out of the water breathing a huge gulp of air, unscathed.

“Amanda,” I whispered, kneeling next to her where she sat, hugging her leg, my voice loud against her quietness. “You okay?”

She looked up at me, her face pale, lips pressed tight. “I’m fine,” she said, but she wasn’t.

There was a pretty nasty cut on her shin, blood running down her leg and into the water. A friend at school had broken an arm once. Amanda’s leg didn’t look at all like that. It was probably just painful. But the blood, her pained expression, didn’t sit well with me. She didn’t want to fall apart, trying so hard not to cry. She wouldn’t if I could help it.

“Let me help.”

Amanda hesitated for a moment, and then she nodded. She didn’t even argue when I crouched in front of her, and she latched on to my back, her legs wrapping around me as I stood up and walked back to the cabins.

“Let me know if it hurts,” I said, while wrapping my hands under her knees to hold her in place. She nodded against my back.

We knew each other. She wasn’t just another brat Mom’s friends brought around. Aunt Katie, Uncle Sandro, and my mom are their own little unit. Amanda and I weren’t on yearly trips and the occasional dinner basis. Mine would drop me off at her parents’ anytime she had to work. Amanda and I would share meals, figure out homework, and fight over the remote.

“You shouldn’t have jumped,” I told her, my tone scolding.

“You’re no better. You jumped. And you were about to hit Keith.” A long breath of hers fell on my neck. “Hitting is bad, you know.”

“He’s a bully.”

“Yep. He gets it from your dad. He’s a bully too.” I stopped in my tracks.

No one ever spoke openly about my father. Even Mom would keep it fuzzy and clouded with a, “You’ll understand better when you’re a little older.”

Amanda kept going. “He’s mean to you.”