“Hey,” he murmurs, wiping my tears away. “Shh, don’t cry.”
But something’s split wide open inside me, and all the emotions I’ve tried so hard to contain come rushing out. For five years, I’ve kept them locked away, and I can’t do it anymore.
I open my mouth, and find the strength to say the hardest words of all.
“I was pregnant,” I whisper sadly, into the crashing of the waves. “When you left, I was pregnant.”
A rush of pure relief flood through me. And finally, I’m not alone in this anymore.
Twenty.
Finn.
Her words don’t register at first. They just drift around us on the wind. But then they hit home like a fucking bullet, each one tearing my heart open as I realize what she’s saying.
“What are you talking about?” I demand, praying to God this is all some crazy mistake. A baby? Our baby? “Eva, I don’t understand.”
Her face is so fragile right now. She looks seventeen all over again.
“I didn’t realize,” she whispers, taking a shaking breath. “You left, and I fell apart. I was so heartbroken that I cried for days. I was so busy trying to put on a brave face for my parents and Lottie I didn’t even notice when I missed my period.”
I stand there, my head spinning. What the fuck did I do?
“I didn’t find out until it was too late,” Eva tells me, sounding hollow. “I was helping out at the shelter, and I got the worst cramps. So bad, I nearly passed out. Edith drove me to the medical practice in the next town. A nurse there ran some tests, and she told me. I was eight weeks pregnant, and I.” She pauses. “I was miscarrying.”
I curse under my breath. I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly. I should have held her all those years ago. I should have been there.
I should have been a fucking man.
“I lied to Edith,” Eva says softly against me. “I told her it was just bad cramps, and went home. I spent the night in bed with a hot water bottle and painkillers until.” She pauses. “Until it was over. It wasn’t much, in the end,” she swallows. “Just like a regular period. If I hadn’t gone to the doctor, I would never even have known.”
I draw back, cradling her face. Damn, I can’t bear the pain I see in her eyes, the shadows of this secret she’s been carrying alone for so long. “Why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known.”
Eva shakes her head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. You were gone. Even I didn’t know, not until it was already too late.”
“But you were alone.” I clench my jaw, hating myself right now. “You should never have gone through that on your own.”
“But I did.” Her voice is soft but steady. “You weren’t here, and I had no way of reaching you.”
It’s a gut punch, and I deserve it. “Eva.”
She shakes her head, looking stronger now. “I’m not trying to blame you. I just wanted to tell you, so there wouldn’t be any secrets between us anymore.” She wipes her tears, and I can feel her pulling away from me. I take her hand, trying to keep the connection open before her walls go up again.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t imagine what you went through,” I don’t know what the fuck to say, because no words can ever touch this. “Please, talk to me.”
Eva gives me a sad smile. “There’s nothing else to say about it, not really. It was over a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
But she’s wrong. I watch her start walking slowly back up the beach, leaving a trail of footsteps on the wet sand. It does matter. This explains everything. Why she went so far off the rails in New York, abandoning the dreams of acting she’d always worked so hard to pursue. That’s on me, too. Fuck. She was trying so damn hard to move on that she went hurtling in the wrong direction, and meanwhile I was off drinking myself into oblivion, thinking I’d done the right thing in leaving for good.
I catch up with her, still searching to make sense of it all. “Is this why you came back home when Lottie got pregnant?” I ask, something clicking into place.
She gives a halting nod. “I didn’t want her to feel alone.”
Alone like she’d been.
I reach out and take hold of her hand, waiting for her to talk, but Eva stays silent until we reach our blanket. “We should hit the road,” she says brightly, like this whole conversation never happened. “It’s getting late, and Dee said something about meeting at Dixie’s later.”
I study her, wary. I don’t want to push, so I just squeeze her hand. “But we’re okay?” I check.
She nods, her eyes skittering away. “We’re fine. Like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore.”