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  “Why are you just now telling me?”

  “I didn’t know how. I thought if I said something, it would make it all real, and I didn’t want it to be real. But it made me realize something, and I was scared.”

  “What was that?”

  He didn’t speak for what felt like minutes. Full, sixty-second minutes. There was nothing but silence in the room as I watched his lip quiver and his shoulders shake. A few tears escaped his eyes and rolled down his reddened cheeks. My heart ached for him and I hadn’t even heard his answer. The emotions made me feel weak. I didn’t want to feel weak, but before I could say anything to him, he finally spoke.

  “I am so in love with you, Kendall,” he confessed in a half sob–half choked sound.

  My breathing stopped. He had never told me he loved me before. Not once. And I had never told him either. I did love him. I had always loved him, but neither of us had ever spoken those words to one another.

  “And loving me scares you?” I finally asked once I could take in a deep enough breath.

  “No. Not loving you. Losing you. I am petrified of losing you like Chick lost Kerri. I thought pushing you away would be easier. But then I come home and find you ready to leave me, and I can’t handle that either. I am so in love with you it scares me to keep you and it petrifies me to lose you.”

  “And you show that love by throwing me into a wall?” I wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter if he dropped down onto one knee and asked me to marry him. I wasn’t a weak girl, and I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t throw you into a wall. You threw my boot at me. At my head. And you started to run. I was only trying to stop you from running. I judged the distance wrong and ran into you. I saw the wall and tried to keep you from falling into it, but I couldn’t. You fell into the wall; it was an accident. But that doesn’t matter because, in the end, you got hurt. I may not have purposely hurt you, but it doesn’t change the outcome. But please don’t leave me over that. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anything. More than me. More than life itself.”

  “And what happens next time you hurt me?”

  “I’d kill myself before I did that. Accidentally or on purpose. I just told you, Kendall, I love you more than life itself. And I mean that. Don’t leave me. Please… don’t leave me. I love you. I am in love with you and I can’t live without you.”

  I stared into his brown eyes and saw the truth. He loved me. And I loved him. I couldn’t leave him. I knew right then and there that I would have to be dragged away from him for me to ever leave him. And I knew he was telling the truth. He’d kill himself before ever physically hurting me again. “I love you, too,” I whispered back to him.

  I woke up in a cold bed. Regret weighed on me, crushing me like an elephant had been sitting on my chest. I wasn’t exactly sure why I felt that way or where the regret came from. It wasn’t until the memory of my dream fully came to me before I finally understood.

  I didn’t fully understand the reasons for my guilt. Did I feel guilty for what happened between me and Link the night before? Or had I felt guilty for dreaming of Billy after what Link did to me? I wasn’t sure.

  I had to dissect my dream in order to organize my feelings. I had to take a shower to do that. I did my best thinking high, but I was pregnant and couldn’t do that. The next best way for me to think was in the shower as I let the warm water crash over me. For some reason, my mind worked better that way, like the water was washing the fog from my brain.

  Billy had told me he would never hurt me again. Did he not think breaking my heart would hurt me? How did he expect me to feel after he told me to have an abortion? He said he didn’t want me to come back to him. Did this time apart make him realize he was no longer scared of losing me?

  And then there was Link. He begged me to stay. He didn’t want me to leave. Nor did he want me to have an abortion. He wanted to raise my baby as his own. Would he change his mind later on down the road, too, like Billy had? Would time apart from Link make him see that losing me wasn’t so scary either?

  I couldn’t handle all of the thoughts and emotions running through me. I turned the water off and jumped out without fully washing my body. But I couldn’t stay in there one more minute with the thoughts that were running through my head.

  After I was dried and dressed, I looked around for Link. I didn’t see him anywhere. He was either inside his parents’ house or had run out somewhere. I knew he wouldn’t be on the golf course since the golfers were out. Then I thought about him in the backyard, smoking a joint. For some reason, that thought made me angry. Even though I had told him I didn’t care if he did it, the thought of him smoking behind my back while I couldn’t set me off.

  I grabbed my phone from the charger next to my bed. I had every intention of calling Link to find out where he was. But for some reason, the only person I could think of to call was Billy. I wasn’t sure why. The only explanation I could come up with was that I was weak. I was no longer the strong-willed girl from my dreams. I wasn’t the girl who was ready to walk out of his life anymore. I was now the weak one, crying over his rejection, and ready to call him and beg for his forgiveness. Beg him to take me back. Plead with him until he gave in and accepted me and our baby.

  With tears in my eyes and shaky hands, I dialed his number. An automated voice informed me that he was no longer accepting calls from my number at that time. I wasn’t sure what that meant except he must’ve blocked me from calling him. That bastard.

  I opened my Facebook app and pulled up our messages. I typed out a long letter, explaining to him about my decision to keep the baby. I told him about Link, and how he wanted me to stay with him. Against my better judgment, I added in a few lines, telling him that I would come back if he wanted me to. Openly admitting that I’d leave Link behind and go running back into his arms when he was ready for me again. I apologized for springing a baby on him, but that it hadn’t been my intention to get pregnant. The baby was as much of a surprise to me as it had been to him. But that I didn’t have it in me to abort it. I told him that I loved him, and hoped he still loved me.

  I re-read it to make sure it was fine. I added in a few things and debated about taking a few things out, but never did. Then I hit the send button. A box popped up, letting me know that the user did not accept messages from people who were not on his friends list, and asked me if I wanted to send a request. I declined and then turned off my phone.

  Anger spread through me, growing at an increasing rate the longer I sat there alone. Alone. That’s what I would always be. I started off alone. While John worked, Billy had his own thing going on, and a younger me was left alone. As I grew older, I found ways to occupy my time. John still worked and Billy was gone more than he was home. I was alone. For four days while John lay lifeless on his bathroom floor, I was alone. Billy did come for me, but for over a year, he left me alone in his house while he went on with his life. I had a little over a year where I wasn’t all by myself. Where I had Billy there with me when he wasn’t working. But then I went out for a drive and was pulled over, taken to a town I didn’t know, to a house I didn’t remember, and to a family I didn’t want. And again, I was alone.

  I choked on a sob when I realized I hadn’t been alone the whole time I had been there. Link was there. Ever since I met him, I hadn’t been alone. He had been by my side every time I needed him. He helped me find out things about my parents when no one else would tell me anything. He had been there to pick me up when I felt too weak to stand. And he was there to take on this responsibility that Billy had been too much of a bitch to do himself. I wasn’t alone. I had Lincoln Hunt.

  The second the door opened, I was on my feet, running to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on as if my life depended on it. His arms went around my waist as he held me to him, breathing me in as if his life depended on it.

  “What’s going on, Kendall?” He sounded so worried.

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nbsp; I shook my head. “No, not Kendall. I’m not Kendall. I don’t know who I am, but I am not Kendall. She may have been strong, but she was Billy’s. And I’m not Billy’s anymore.” I strung my words together as they rushed out of my mouth. I’m sure I sounded a little crazy, but with the morning I had, I didn’t care.

  He pulled my head so that it was buried in his chest. That was when I noticed he didn’t smell like smoke. There was not a hint of marijuana scent on him, and it made me cry even more. I had doubted him. I accused him without even giving him a chance. He had never done that to me and didn’t deserve me doing that to him.

  “Shhh. It’s okay. I won’t call you that.”

  I backed away to look him in his eyes. The sapphire color pulled me in until I was on my toes and my lips were on his. He kissed me back, holding my body to his. It wasn’t like the kisses from the night before. They weren’t hot and heeded. They were soft and sensual and full of care and desperation. I’m sure he contributed the care and I delivered the desperation. Our hands weren’t all over each other. His were firmly planted on my back while mine were holding fistfuls of his shirt between our chests.

  I wanted him, but not in the way I had the previous night. I wanted him to save me, to comfort me, to protect me, and to love me. I needed for him to love me. I didn’t know how I felt about him just yet, surely it wasn’t love, but regardless of that, I needed it from him. Call me selfish or childish, they’re both true. But it didn’t negate the fact that I was a desperate girl who just needed love. It had saved me before. I knew it could again.

  “Where did you go?” I asked once his lips finally left mine.

  “I went to store. You were almost out of the prenatal vitamins the doctor gave you. So I wanted to get you a bottle that’ll last longer than the samples. And while I was out, I picked up some pregnancy magazines and a baby name book for you to go through.”

  For you to go through. My heart that was just beating erratically in my chest had fallen to the floor. Rejection. He didn’t want to go through the names with me, he wanted me to do it alone. There was that word again.

  The guilt wrenched its way back inside all over again. I was upset that he didn’t want to be a part of this with me, yet not long before I was writing Billy a message explaining that I’d go running back to him if he wanted me to. I’d leave Link behind if Billy had asked. That was the guilt I had felt when I woke that morning. It wasn’t what Link and I shared the night before. It was dreaming of Billy while I slept in Link’s arms. Then it was calling Billy and writing him a love letter, professing my undying love to him. All while Link was out picking up things for me and my baby. The guilt ate at me so much that I had to run to the bathroom. I hadn’t eaten anything since getting up, so there wasn’t much, but stomach acid to empty into the toilet. It burned all the way up and then sat in the back of my throat, eating away at it like the guilt ate away at my soul.

  Link grabbed a washcloth and ran it over my face. Then he grabbed me a glass of water and waited until I drank it, sitting on the cold tile floor with me. I was a horrible human being for what I had done to him. I brought him into this mess, fully prepared to leave him there to run back to the greener grass. Except the other side of the fence wasn’t greener. And I was thankful I had realized that before it was too late. Link didn’t know what I had done while he was out, and I swore he’d never find out. I told him I’d prove to him that I was there to stay. And from that moment on, that was exactly what I planned on doing.

  Once we got up off the floor, he went to the small kitchen and made me some toast to eat. I didn’t want it, but he made me eat it. He said I had to have something in my stomach, even if it came back up. He was so attentive, so caring, so loving. And again, all I wanted was for him to love me. Maybe I was feeling a little of that toward him and wanted some validation to those feelings. I didn’t know. But there was only one way to find that out, and that was for me to stick it out with him until the bitter end.

  I lay on the couch in front of the TV for a little while to try and ease the throbbing in my head. I must have dozed off for a bit, because when I opened my eyes, a different show was on. I hadn’t felt like I had fallen asleep, but I knew I must’ve. Link was at the end of the couch with my feet in his lap. He had a book in his hand with a highlighter stuck between his teeth. His brows were furrowed as his eyes searched the pages in front of him.

  “What are you reading?” I asked, my voice sounding refreshed.

  He looked over at me. Due to his startled expression, he must not have known I had woken up. He turned the cover so that I could see it, and it was my turn to be startled. He was reading the baby name book.

  “Picking out names?” I asked, sounding a little hesitant.

  He shrugged. “Just finding some suggestions for you. Some of them are horrible. No need to waste your time with names like Abilonia.” I could hear his own hesitation as well and it made my stomach clench. I wasn’t sure why.

  “Hmmm…” I hummed in thought. “Abilonia Hunt. Abby Hunt. I kinda like it.”

  His head turned to me so fast I thought he’d given himself whiplash.

  “Okay, I take it you don’t like it. Read me the ones you like.”

  “Hunt?” he asked, almost stumbling over his own last name.

  I immediately regretted it. I hadn’t thought of how terrifying giving my baby his last name would be. And we hadn’t even discussed it yet. I just assumed, and his reaction made me feel like a fool.

  Words wouldn’t form, no matter how many times I moved my lips to form them. I quickly gave up and removed my legs from his lap, moving to the end of the couch to stand. I needed to get away from him. To ease this embarrassment I felt throughout my whole body.

  His hands clasped over my shoulders and he turned me to face him. His eyes were wide and pleading. I’m sure mine were small and frantic. Neither one of us spoke, only stared into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to make the first move.

  “What’s the baby’s last name going to be?” he asked through heavy breaths.

  “I just figured if everyone thinks the baby is yours, it’d only make sense to have your last name.” I could no longer keep eye contact with him. My eyes flickered all over the room. I felt desperate to be out of his hold while at the same time, feeling the crucial need to be closer to him. I either needed to back away or bury myself in him.

  His voice grew deeper as he said, “Don’t figure. Don’t assume. What do you want? What last name do you want to give your baby? Not what would look good, not what anyone else wants. What do you want?”

  His tone was demanding, but his eyes were pleading. They turned an almost midnight blue color as he stared right into me. I was absorbed by his emotions; all of them were etched on his face, telling a story. I wanted to know it all. I needed to know it all.

  I hadn’t given the last name a whole lot of thought, but I knew what was right. I knew it because it felt right. Because it was right. “Hunt,” I answered in a whisper.

  His strong hand moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck as he pulled my face to his. It all happened so fast but felt as if it were happening in slow motion. I had been scared of his rejection. Worried of his response, not ever guessing it’d be that. His lips frantically moved with mine. Desperation. Unrestrained affection. Alarming tenderness. Impulsive emotions. Powerful adulation. I felt it all with his mouth on mine. With his tongue on mine. With his hands on me. I needed him. All of him.

  I leaned back and pulled him with me. His body hovered over mine as I lay back on the couch. Our hands were all over the place. Mine were under his shirt, grabbing fiercely at it, trying desperately to rip it from his body. His hands were on my hips, my waist, my ribcage, and finally my breast. They were sore, and his groping sent a throbbing ache through me, but I didn’t dare stop him. He pressed his hips into me and I could feel his need for me. It matched my need for him.

  Link backed away and I immediately felt the sting of rejection. But it didn�
�t last long. As soon as he was up, he pulled me into his arms and carried me to our room. I fell onto the bed with him on top of me. He reached behind his head and pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. I was in awe of him.

  I had seen him without a shirt on before but never once had it been with him on top of me. The way his muscles came to life as he held himself up by his arms, and the definition in his shoulders as he bent his head down to meet mine made my body react in a way it hadn’t in a long time. It was like I was seeing him in a different way than I had ever before.

  My legs parted to make room for his waist. He moved against me, and the friction from his erection behind his jeans against my throbbing sex behind mine sent my head spinning. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, bare, with nothing in between. I needed it more than I needed air. But my hands were too busy exploring his chest and back to do anything about it. He must have felt the same need because he began to pull my tank top up until it was over my head and thrown to the floor.

  He reached around my back to the clasp of my bra. I arched my spine, allowing him access, but also to feel him chest to chest. His skin was hot, burning me from the contact. I never wanted it to stop. I needed to feel that forever.

  His lips and tongue made their way down my neck to my shoulder as he slowly moved my bra strap away. Every touch of his fingertips followed by the heat of his breath, made me grow increasingly more impatient. But I didn’t rush him. I let him do what he was doing, allowing him to take me in as I did the same thing. I ran my hands over his bare skin, not leaving one inch untouched. I could feel him through the pads of my fingers and the palms of my hands. I could feel him run all the way through me as if I was consuming him. As if he was consuming me.

  Once my bra was all the way off, he threw that out of his way as well. I had never felt so bare before. I still had on my jean shorts, only naked from the waist up, but that didn’t matter. I felt open and exposed. Helpless and raw. The way his eyes moved over me, his lips in a straight line on his face, and his jaw tightening and loosening as if he was fighting for control—it all made me feel stripped and defenseless.