Page 57 of Falling With You

“We didn’t know,” Mrs. Pritchett said, tears sliding down her face. She waved the photo just a little, her hand shaking, and I took it from her, careful not to smudge, bend, or do anything to it that could hurt what wasn’t there anymore. “We didn’t know,” she repeated.

“I don’t think anyone did,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “My brothers don’t, and I don’t think the girls do either. We didn’t tell anyone.”

“Will you tell us what happened?” Mr. Pritchett asked, tilting his chin at me.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to tell us, but we want to know what happened to our daughter. And that little girl.”

“Why don’t we take a seat?” I asked, my voice shaky.

Somehow, we all made it to the seating area, with me sitting on the chair in front of the couch where they settled, Diego on my lap. I just looked down at the sonogram and kept it out of reach of the little kitten who wanted to play.

“We were on our way to breaking up when we found out that she was pregnant. It was an accident, but sometimes, accidents are good, you know? We were going to figure out what to do, even if we weren’t together anymore. But we were going to try. We wanted to try.” I swallowed hard and looked at them. “She miscarried in her second trimester, and she wasn’t really showing at all at that point, so no one really knew. We lost the baby, our little girl, and we didn’t really talk about it. We just went our separate ways, both of us a little too shattered and scared to do anything about it other than just try and figure out exactly what the fuck was wrong with us.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if that’s why she did it. It’s been so long, so many years. But I often think about what we could have had. What we lost. Maybe she did, too.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Mrs. Pritchett put in, her body shaking as she cried silently. “We won’t blame ourselves, and you can’t either. I hate the phrase that things happen for a reason, but sometimes, things happen for no reason. We didn’t know what happened to the child, we thought maybe you both chose not to have one, or you had one, and she went off for adoption, much like you and your brothers.”

I shook my head. “No, I think both of us would have figured out how to be parents. Especially after what my brothers and I went through. We didn’t like the system, and I didn’t want anything of my blood to be in that system. Even if we were surprised about the baby, we both wanted her, even if we didn’t know if we wanted each other anymore. But that was the last straw. We walked away, and then I was around in her life, but not really. I don’t know what happened. I do know that we loved that little girl. I think about her every day. I’m just sorry that you had to find out this way.”

“We’re sorry that you couldn’t tell anyone,” Mrs. Pritchett said, and then we were silent for a moment, sifting through the memories and the pain of what we had tried to forget, and what we knew we needed to remember.

They sat there a bit longer before I let them out, still clutching the sonogram to myself.

My daughter was gone, never even able to draw her first breath in a world that might have been different if she had been around.

I didn’t know why Allison had ended her life. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t think it was just because of this, though.

Because I hoped to God that she would have found me, talked to me, let me see something.

Though I didn’t really know anything.

My body shook, and I set the photo down and just put my head against the door, wondering what the fuck I was going to do.

Because I didn’t think I was sad anymore. No, I was just angry.

So goddamn angry.

Then the doorbell rang again, and I opened the door. I knew who it had to be before I even opened it. Sienna stood there, her eyes wide, and her hands full.

And I knew I needed her, I wanted her. I just wanted to forget.

Even if it wasn’t the smartest move.

It was the only one.

Chapter Thirteen

Why are boys so confusing?

-Sienna, age 15.

Sienna

Aiden didn’t giveme a chance to speak before he was tossing the box from my hand to the floor, the resounding crash echoing in the room and scaring Diego off the couch to scurry beneath it.

“What the hell, Aiden?” But that was the only thing I could say. In the next moment, his lips were on mine, and the door was closed behind me.

I didn’t know what was up with him, but he was clearly hurting, I could tell. But he didn’t want to speak. He just wanted my lips, wanted me.

And this was something I could give him. This was something I wanted, something I needed, too.