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She’s so pretty, even when she’s so sad.

I hate how helpless I feel to fix everything for her. I hate that I lay awake last night thinking of how I could make this all better for her.

I hate that I think I found the answer…

“Have you thought more about telling Holt?” The words feel rough and violent as they spill into the space between us, worsened by the painful way she flinches.

I want to go to her. My boots keep me rooted in place, and I’m suddenly thankful that I didn’t stop at home and change.

I can’t get them wet. I’ve got work tomorrow.

She tears her eyes from the opposite bank to look at her feet in the water. The pink on her painted toes has begun to chip.

Firmly, she says, “I’ve made my decision. I’m staying here and Holt is staying in Toronto.” Her eyes finally come to mine. “I told him I’m not coming. I told him it’s over.”

“And the baby?”

She pulls her lips between her teeth, shaking her head. “He can’t know. He’ll come back and⁠—”

“And what?” I ask when she cuts off.

“Even if he comes back, it’s over. I won’t set myself up to become the thing he regrets most in life.” Her eyes plead with me to understand. I hate that I do. “I won’t do it.”

“And you won’t go to Toronto? You won’t make it work?”

She shakes her head. “That’s not the life I want for my baby.” A pitiful sound spills from her lips. “I probably should have thought of that before—” She cuts off with a small sob. “I was taking the pill. I only forgot the one and I took it the next day I⁠—”

I want to tell her that we all make mistakes, but it feels wrong. This baby isn’t a mistake, even if it feels like that now.

“He’s worked his whole life toward this one dream, Tate. I refuse to take that from him, but I refuse to sacrifice all of myself for that dream now that—” Her hand touches her belly. “I have someone else who means more. I have someone who needs grandparents. Who needs more than a father obsessed with hockey—obsessed with making it big—absent, or worse filled with regret.” She shakes her head again. “I’ve made my decision.”

“When he realizes you’re pregnant? What then?”

“I’m going to tell him the baby isn’t his.”

Her words cut, even though they’re the words I’ve been waiting for. The words I needed to hear her say. “Who is the father, then?”

“I—”

“When you tell Holt he’s not the father, he’s going to want to know who is. So, who’s name are you going to give him, Faye?”

“I—”

I grip my hands between my knees, knowing that I’m going to hell for this. I’m really not sure I care.

“Let it be me.”

Faye’s shoulders fall as she gapes at me with wide, alarmed eyes.

Color drenches the pallor of her lovely face, horror bleeding into her expression as she begins to shake her head. “Tate…”

Fuck the boots. I stand, rushing through the water that separates us. My knees connect with the rock on either side of hers, water flooding my boots as I close her trembling hands around my own.

“You’ve already made the decision. You told me you don’t want to do it alone, and I’m telling you I want to be there. I want to be there for you and the baby. I’ll love it like—” A desperate curse falls between us. “I’ll love the baby like I know Holt would love it—if—if life were perfect.”

“I…” Tears squeeze from her eyes to streak her face. “I don’t—I can’t⁠—”

“I’ll love you, Faye. I’ll love you and I’ll never resent you for the pieces of your heart that I know he’ll always hold.” I grip her hands tighter. “Please, say yes.”