Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“Jesus.”
“Dad took me to the hospital. I don’t remember this part. I only remember everything going black in the bathroom. And then waking up in the hospital, where I was told I had a miscarriage and almost hemorrhaged to death.”
Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “Is that normal?”
“Nope. Apparently I had an incomplete miscarriage, which is when not all the fetal tissue is expelled from the uterus. That’s why the bleeding was getting heavier instead of improving.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
I nod in gratitude. But I don’t tell Jake everything else that happened in my hospital room. Like how I had a total breakdown in front of my father, crying hysterically and saying I was sorry, over and over again, while Dad stood there stoically, hardly even looking at me. And the longer I sobbed, the more embarrassing it became. I’d always been so strong and resilient, and suddenly I was wailing like a child in front of him.
He hasn’t looked at me the same way since. He wasn’t just ashamed that I’d gotten knocked up—I think he was equally ashamed of the way I fell apart. Dad doesn’t respect soft people, and that night I was beyond soft.
“Things were never the same with Dad after that. He pulled me out of school for two months because I was so emotional. Depressed, crying all the time. We told everyone I had mono, and Eric was the only person who knew the truth.”
“I can’t believe you were still with him,” Jake says darkly.
“Oh, I wasn’t.” I give a humorless laugh. “For so many reasons. He officially became public enemy number one to my father. Dad despised him, and he almost beat the shit out of Eric one day, because Eric kept showing up at our door trying to talk to me. Dad forbade me from ever seeing him again, and I was perfectly cool with that. I couldn’t forgive Eric for the way he behaved the night I lost the baby. I was crying and begging him to come home, to take me to the hospital, and he just didn’t care.” Anger bubbles in my throat. “I could have died. But getting loaded with his buddies and smoking weed was more important to him than making sure I was all right.”
I lean my head against Jake’s shoulder, and he plays with strands of my hair. “Dad became overprotective, but it’s funny—he was so busy with his job that he couldn’t really enforce all the rules he was trying to make me follow. So most of the time I did whatever I wanted anyway, and he’d lecture me about it afterward. I went back to school, started senior year, and acted out like every other teenage girl who’s trying to get her parents’ attention. It was the typical adolescent crap, and the more stupid shit I did, the more he noticed. So I’d stay out all night, drink, party, make him worry on purpose.”
It’s mortifying looking back on it. But we all do dumb things when we’re teenagers. It’s all those raging hormones.
“Anyway, now it’s five years later and Dad still views me as a disappointment, as weak. Even though I cleaned up my act a long time ago.” I shrug sadly. “But it is what it is, right?”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Jake presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re not weak, Brenna. Coach Jensen’s blind if he doesn’t see that. And calling your daughter a disappointment because she accidentally got pregnant? That’s a dick move. You don’t deserve that. And you definitely don’t deserve what that prick Eric did to you. I can’t believe you’re still in contact with him, that you actually allow yourself to feel any compassion for the guy.”
I sigh. “The breakdown I had after the miscarriage was nothing compared to the one Eric had. Losing me sent him into a tailspin. He blew off the championship game because of me.”
“No, because of him,” Jake corrects. “Don’t kid yourself, babe—he would’ve gotten kicked off the team eventually, even if he had played in the championship. Eric Royce was never going to the NHL. He clearly already had a burgeoning substance-abuse issue. He would’ve failed a piss test, gotten busted for possession, something. I guarantee it.”
“Maybe you’re right. But at the time, I felt responsible for him. I didn’t want to date him anymore, but I also felt an obligation to take care of him. It’s so messed up, I can’t even explain it.” I lift my head from Jake’s shoulder. “Eric was never there for me when I needed him, so why couldn’t I say ‘boy bye’ and let him self-destruct?”
“Because you’re a good person.”
“I guess.” I hesitate. “So are you,” I tell him.
“Nah.”
A hot lump of emotion fills my throat. “You are,” I insist. “Look at everything you’ve done for me—you helped me rescue my undeserving ex. You gave me a place to stay. You just listened to that whole sordid tale without judging me. Eric was—is—one of the most selfish people I’ve ever met. But you’re not. You’re a good guy, Jake.”