Page 97 of Lose You to Find Me

Janet stands taller and rolls her shoulders back before stepping aside from the door. “I’ve always been scared that she’s going to fall too hard, too fast like I did. But you are not Craig, and she is not me. The last thing I want is for her to struggle with her choices when I played a hand in the ones she made.”

I have no idea what to say because this is the last thing I expected when I pulled up to their house. But nonetheless, a tiny part of me feels like a weight has been lifted.

Not because I needed her permission.

But because I have it anyway.

For the first time.

“You two have a lot to talk about. If she’s willing to bring it up, hear her out,” she concludes. “Maybe if I had, I would have salvaged my relationship with her a lot sooner than I did.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

RAINE

I’m lying inbed with Sigmund curled beside me when my door cracks open. I turn, thinking it’s Mom checking on me for the hundredth time, when Caleb’s head pops in. Panic prickles my limbs as Sigmund instantly darts up, tail wagging at the visitor who remains by the door.

“Hey,” he greets quietly. “Your mom let me in.”

I expected as much since he wouldn’t have gotten past the warden otherwise. But why is he here? I’ve seen Skylar and Olive, who came bearing dog toys and my favorite snacks, and got a phone call from Aunt Tiffany checking in after Mom told her about the procedure. I never expected Caleb though. “Hi…”

He smiles at the dog making whining noises, clearly wanting attention. “He’s gotten big, huh? He’ll definitely grow into those paws.”

Last night when Sigmund was trying to make me feel better, those massive paws stepped on one of my tiny incisions by accident. I could tell he felt awful when I cried out because he chose to stay in his open crate the rest of the night and keep a watchful eye on me from a distance.

“The vet says he’ll be at least sixty pounds when he’s fully grown,” I tell him, trying to match his small talk while sitting up and wincing at the slight pain still lingering in my abdomen.

Caleb watches me prop myself up with a pillow behind my back before gesturing toward Sigmund. “May I?”

All I do is nod, my eyes following him in as he fusses over my four-legged roommate. Sigmund’s tail starts wagging harder, shaking not only his entire back end but the bed too.

“You did it,” Caleb says, and at first I don’t know if he’s talking to me or the dog. Not until his eyes pan over to me. “You’ve always wanted a dog. I remember when you went through a corgi phase and would send me a million pictures you’d come across online, trying to get me to buy us one. But I’d say this dude is a pretty solid start. Your first real baby.”

Baby.He doesn’t see the way my heart tightens and falls to the bottom of my stomach or the way my chest deflates like somebody stuck a needle in it. Despite how hard I try keeping it in, he can’t miss the sob that bubbles from my wavering lips. It has his hand pausing where it strokes Sigmund’s back. Then the floodgates open, and ugly, desperate tears begin to fall before I can suppress them.

Caleb moves quickly, suddenly squatting beside me. I don’t need to look at him to know those intense eyes are trained on me. I can feel them burning frantically into my face. “What is it? Are you hurting? Should I get your mom? Do you need medicine?”

Maybe it’s because he’s here with me for the millionth time when he could be anywhere else, but the last barrier I’d built comes crumbling down.

The last thing either of us expects is the blurted, hoarse words that escape my blubbering lips. The truth that can’t be contained anymore because it’s eating me up inside. I’ve got nothing left to fight it.

“I c-can’t have any babies.”

Caleb stares.

And stares.

And stares.

And I cry harder for the words that finally relieve the pressure I’ve been carrying on my conscience for so long.

Then I hear a whispered “What?”

It’s only then that I allow myself to peel open my damp eyes and look at the boy whose jaw is slack with confusion, while mine wobbles with saddened relief.

He’s slow to stand. “Raine… What are you talking about?”

I sniff back tears, running the back of my hand underneath my nose and struggling to take a deep breath. My lungs hurt yet feel some sort of ease from each breath I manage to take. The hard part is over—the words are out. “You always wanted kids,” I whisper, swiping my hands over my face to dry it. It’s pointless. The tears keep coming. “You always talked about what they’d look like and what we’d name them and how we’d raise them together, and I always knew how far away that dream really was.”

---