Page 56 of Lost Boy

“Haley, there is no you and me. There never was.” I force the words out and hear a whimper rush from her throat. “Just … leave me alone.”

Gently pushing her off of me, I reach for my duffel bag. But before I walk away, I decide that I deserve to be tortured. I deserve to feel pain. So, I look at her.

Her eyes are broken, and her body screams of defeat.

I robbed my angel of her wings. And now, she’s just like everyone else in this fucked up world. Damaged.

Putting my head down, I walk past her and walk down the stairs and outside to my parents’ car. Never sparing the guys a second look.

Because they shouldn’t have to go through this shit just because I’m a fuckup. And maybe it’ll make this sting less for them if I’m a dick. It’d give them a reason to give the hell up on me—and they should.

Putting my duffel bag in the trunk, I climb in the car and slam the door.

I had everything anyone could dream of. And I threw it away for pills that made my life worse.

Haley

I want to puke. Or scream. Or maybe even break something.

But above all, I just want to go in my room, curl up in a ball, and never come out again. I feel so alone in this moment. Everything seems doomed, and I’m convinced I might actually die.

Not long ago, everything seemed fine. Now, I don’t know what’s going to happen.

I look out the window, watching Cade’s parents’ SUV pull out of the driveway and onto the road. I feel like I could pass out, and the walls seem to be closing in around me. Putting my hand on my stomach, I try to focus on what should be the simplest task. Breathing.

I hear Watson talking next to me, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. My mind is going a thousand miles an hour, but everything around me seems to be standing still.

I turn toward my brother, my heart breaking in my chest. Something inside me drives me to what I’m about to do next. Maybe it’s just to feel less lonely. Maybe it’s because I need someone to tell me it’s all going to be all right. Or perhaps it’s just because I can’t continue to keep this secret any longer. It’s eating me alive.

“Hunter, I’m pregnant,” I croak.

His eyes widen, but he just stares at me. I look from Hunter to Watson and hold my hands protectively over my stomach. Almost like … all this stress is hurting the baby and I need to save him or her.

“I’m pregnant … and it’s Cade’s baby.”

Watson and Hunter share a look with each other, both unable to form actual words. And before they can try, I run upstairs to my room and shut the door.

Collapsing on my bed, I pull my blankets over my head and cry so hard that my throat turns raw and my eyes swell shut. A thousand memories of Cade rush through my mind—him kissing me, taking me to the bookstore, smiling at me, and everything in between.

It’s like mourning a person who is still alive.

And maybe that’s because it’sus—him and me together—that’s dead.

Somewhere in the midst of blurting out to my brother and Watson that I’m pregnant and right now … I cried myself to sleep. My eyes feel swollen, and my face feels dry and crispy and, quite honestly, gross.

When I hear a knock at the door, I don’t say anything. It’s probably my brother. Or maybe even Sutton. If I’m lucky, they’ll think I’m asleep and just go away. That’s what I want. To be left alone.

“Hales, it’s me,” Watson says from the other side of the door. “Can I come in just for a minute?”

I sigh. I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to talk about it. And, yes, I know now that I should have just kept my damn mouth shut. But in the moment, it just sort of came out.

“Fine,” I grunt, pulling the comforter over my head.

Watson doesn’t need to see me looking like a zombie fromThe Walking Dead.

Slowly, the door opens, making a creaking sound. I hear his footsteps before the side of the bed shifts from his weight. Placing his hand on my ankle, he gives it a small squeeze to let me know he’s here. And just that little action … makes me cry again.

“How are you?” he whispers.

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