Page 6 of Love Me Gently

He was right. If I loved him, I’d keep our baby. If I loved him, I’d start a family with him. I’d do everything I was supposed to do, and it wouldn’t feel like such a chore.

It would be an honor, and Lord knew, I wanted to love Cole Paxton as much as I knew he loved me.

Except he didn’t love me enough to support me in my dreams, either. If I gave in now, I’d end up sacrificing a part of my soul that beat for more.

“I don’t want you to do this.” He put enough space between us so he could settle his hand on my stomach. “I hate you for even considering doing this, and I love you, too. How can that be?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to hate you.” His voice was thick with gravel and nails.

We said nothing then, as the breeze of the field swirled around us, tossing my blond hair into my eyes. I shoved it away, peeling it off my cheeks that were slick from tears.

We were behind the high school, and all the other students had long since left, but I’d talked Cole into staying instead of heading to the Dairy Queen where all our other classmates hung out after school.

With graduation next week, we were all trying to spend as much time together as we possibly could before drifting off into our futures.

I figured after this conversation, no one would want me around anyway. Perhaps not even Ashley or Heather.

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could think of to say.

He shook his head, and the muscles bunched in his arms. He would make an excellent police officer some day. He was bold and brave, strong and humble. He was handsome and fair. He was noble. A good man. The best man.

“You’re sorry. For what?” He spun around and faced me, glaring daggers at me that sent a chill straight to my heart. “What are you sorry for? Breaking my heart? Ruining this relationship? Killing our child before even giving it a chance? What exactly are you sorry for?”

“All of it,” I croaked, stepping back. Every word he spoke lashed across my chest like a leather whip.

“Of course you are. But not sorry enough to change any of it.”

I stayed silent. Too afraid to speak, too afraid to move toward him or tell him what he already knew.

We stared at each other, like opponents facing off against each other, when we’d always faced everything together, side by side. Now we were in a standoff, one I wouldn’t back down from even if a small part of me wanted to, and he was equally stubborn.

“Right,” he spit out and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I should get you home then.”

“I’ll walk.”

I lived less than two miles away. I’d never walked home from school. Cole had been picking me up and driving me to school since he got his license. The pain of my statement jolted him back, as if this hurt him more than me telling him I was getting an abortion.

“You’ll walk.” He blinked and then scanned the field behind me. When his gaze came back to mine, it was filled with heavy resignation. “So this is it?”

I didn’t want it to be. Not at all. It had to be, though. “I think it has to be.”

“Fine.” Cole gritted his teeth together. His eyes were wet, and as much as I wanted to look away, to flee from the pain I was causing him, I took it and absorbed it. “Take care then, Trina. Have fun in the big city.”

He said the last two words like they were a curse. I suppose to him, they were.

At some point in my life, I would have been happy staying in Deer Creek. When I was younger, it was all I wanted, much like everyone else I knew. But then our eighth-grade band class took a school trip to New York City. We saw Broadway shows and strolled through the Met and spent hours upon hours in Central Park. By the time I came home, I had fallen in love with something that still ran deeper in my veins than I ever felt Cole. It was a living, breathing, desperateneedin my blood that pulsed for the excitement and adventure.

I had never hidden my dreams from the man in front of me. His features etched with a pain I would never forget and a fury I equally deserved.

“Goodbye, Cole.”

I stepped out of his way as he moved to his tailgate. He slammed it shut, and the truck rocked back and forth from the force. Then he reached in and grabbed my backpack. He handed it to me, arm extended like he couldn’t bear to be within touching distance of me.

I took it from his hands and slipped it onto my shoulders.

He looked at me, opened his mouth, and closed it. And then he was in front of me, his hands on my cheeks and his breath skating across my lips right before he shoved his mouth against mine.

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