Page 48 of Back to Willow

“I won’t do it!”

My eyes slid to my father, silently seated next to where my mum was before she stood up, screaming. His face and neck were red, and the veins were popping out—the only sign of his anger. Regret hit me as soon as I looked at him.

For a long while, he was who I’d run off to for reassurance, for protection and now…the only person who had shown to be by my side was my brother.

He was the only one who saw the real state I was in when I got home that night. Who took care of my fever when I refused to go to the hospital, and the only one who had been sleeping on my bedroom floor just to wake me from my nightmares.

I wished I hadn’t burdened him with this…it was visible in the weight he’d lost and the worry that looked back at me every day from his irises, not to mention the paler tone of his skin and the deep bags under his eyes. I was tearing them apart, ruining my family.

And still, from the moment I found out I was pregnant, two days before that conversation, he was nothing but supportive. There was a hidden pain in his eyes when he learned and a sad smile when I told him I wanted to keep it despite the…circumstances.

“Where have we failed, huh?” My mum’s body slumped back down on the couch, a defeated tone etched on her voice.

“You didn’t,” I answered.

I did.

But this baby wasn’t at fault, and I couldn’t bring myself to just get rid of it. Get rid of something—soon to be someone—who was going to be half mine. Even knowing that the procedure had always been a polemic subject worldwide, it was a no-brainer to me.

Each woman should have the right to decide what to do. Just like I did, and I chose to keep it. To keep him.

“Well,” she started, swiping her tongue over her teeth in that obnoxious way she always did when things didn’t go her way. “I won’t sit here and watch you destroy your life. If you want to stick to that decision, you won’t be living under my roof anymore.”

Despite her harshness, I gasped in shock. I was expecting a severe grounding or being forced to work, but never to be thrown out of their house when I needed them the most.

“No way!” Jake, who had been silent until then, stood up in a flash, stepping in front of me. “She’s sixteen. You can’t do that!”

“If she is grown up enough to get pregnant and birth a kid at sixteen, she is old enough to find a roof, get a job, and raise it!” Without giving my brother time to answer, she turned to me and continued, “You have twenty-four hours to get out of my house.”

The memories swirl in my brain, reminding me of some of the most painful moments, but a strong and gruff voice breaks me from my forced reverie.

“Willow?” It’s familiar, and it makes me shiver as realisation settles.

Not again.

In a hasty attempt to wipe the tears away from my face, I rub my sleeve underneath my eyes. I was so deep in thought I never even noticed him getting closer to me.

“Professor Adell,” I breathe out in panic. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I just left work.” He points behind him, and sure enough, on the other side of the road, I can recognize a few of the university’s buildings.

Oh.

It still makes me uneasy, though. The last thing I need right now is for him to mock me for catching me bawling my eyes out in the middle of a deserted street.

He moves to sit down next to me, and I can’t help but jump to the opposite side of the bench, keeping as much distance between us as possible. My brain is still on shaky grounds, with one foot in the past and the other in the present. One little trigger and the dam will break.

If I’m uncomfortable with the touch of my childhood best friend and boyfriend, I sure as hell am not ready to be touched by anyone other than my son.

A moment of silence stretches, and my body heats up with the feeling of his eyes on me, though he does not attempt to get closer or touch me—thankfully.

“Are you alright?” His voice comes out in a soft tone.

Such a different one from what I am used to from him. This one is comforting and soothing, the exact opposite of his hostile demeanour from before.

“I am, thank you.” I give him a weak smile, mentally holding my breath for his answer. He will call me out on my bullshit.

Instead, he surprises me by steering off the dreadful subject. “You’re not working today?”

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