Gramps and Gran raised me as their own. They protected me from the truth as best as they could, but I was a curious boy. When the man who I normally only saw in pictures, the man they said was my father, came home late one day, of course I had to sneak downstairs. What I overheard that night gave me a stomach ache.
Gran had refused to talk about it when I asked the next morning, but Gramps, he’d understood my need for answers. That afternoon over two fly fishing rods, he’d done his best to give them, putting the truth in words a seven-year-old could grasp.
“My mom had me when she was sixteen.”
My voice came out robotic, and Peyton’s eyes widened with surprise. Tears still clung to her lashes, but the sight no longer affected me. It was like a wall had fallen, shutting me off from the world, sealing me away from feeling anything painful.
“Turns out, being a teen mom wasn’t high on her to-do list. Put a crimp in her perfect pageant world, but I guess I should be grateful she had me at all. I guarantee my dad pressed for an abortion. Mom’s parents kicked her out—evidently, having a pregnant teenage daughter didn’t look good to voters, either—but Gramps and Gran took her in, took care of her, and after I was born, took care of me.”
A bird dove down and snatched an unsuspecting fish from the pond. Peyton’s gaze stayed steady on me, waiting for me to continue, but I couldn’t look at her. It hurt too much.
“My dad was pissed. He wanted a kid about as much as good old mom, and she at least got free after signing the papers. But dad… he was stuck. Gramps used to say, ‘A Carter owns up to his mistakes,’ and I’m my father’s biggest.”
I flashed her a grin. “After graduation, Dad joined the family business, earning his degree at night, learning how to be a man in his father’s eyes. Of course, that meant he had no time to see me, and that was just fine by him. I saw him maybe three or four times before Gran got sick. She died when I was seven, Gramps when I was nine. After that, Dad’s luck ran out.”
Peyton’s cool hands cradled my face, forcing me to look at her. “Justin, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you went through that.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “It is what it is,” I said. “You know the rest. Dad hired Rosalyn, and she’s pretty much raised me from then on. Eventually, he married Annabeth, and Chase was born. Effectively replacing me. Hey, it sucks, but it’s my life. What are ya gonna do?”
I exhaled a breath and felt the fight leaving me. Damn, I was pathetic. Throwing my head back, I stared at the gathering clouds.
“A long time ago, I made myself a promise. If I ever had kids, I’d be different. I’d do it right. I’d let them know they were loved, I’d take care of them.” I laughed at the sky. “I swore I’d never become like my father.”
“But you’re not!” Sunshine’s response was so immediate, so forceful, it was almost funny. “You’re nothing like him. You’d never do the things he does or act the way he did.”
I lowered my head and sighed as I glanced at her flat stomach. “I just did. History is repeating itself right now.”
Self-loathing coated my skin like a thick layer of sweat.
We’d been so careful. The day I went back home from Easter, I stopped at the drug store and bought out an entire row of condoms. I’d pulled out that first night and it almost killed me. Peyton hadn’t yet figured out how to ask her mom for birth control, but once she did, we’d do that, too. But we were smart. We were safe, every time.
Every time but the first.
“We don’t know that,” she said, and I raised my eyes. Hurt was evident on her face, yet she still tried to comfort me. It somehow made it worse. “I’m late, and it freaks me out, but we don’t know I’m pregnant for sure. I’ll take a test in the morning, before school, and then we’ll figure it out, okay? This is probably just a false alarm.”
She looked away and I sighed, knowing better than to let hope win out. This was me we were talking about.
“Can you get it?” she asked, squirming on my lap. “I’d ask my parents, but…”
“No, I’ll get it.” No way did I want Coach hearing about this until we knew for sure. “I’ll get it tonight and bring it with me tomorrow. We can use the bathrooms on the second-floor,” I suggested. “Detention kids are the only ones around before seven-thirty, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Upstairs, no one will even know we’re there.”
I’d slipped back into robot talk, but I couldn’t help it. Shutting down was easier. Feeling was what hurt; it was what got me in trouble. Peyton’s acceptance tricked me into thinking I wasn’t a fuckup. Opening up now could only harm me. Letting myself wonder, imagining what would happen. I couldn’t do that, not yet.
One thing at a time.
As gently as I could, I lifted Peyton from my lap and placed her back on the bench. Then I stood and shoved my hands deep into my pockets, keeping her from reaching out for them. Stopping me from reaching for her.
I kicked at the frame of the picnic table and raised my eyes, allowing myself one last look at her stricken face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”