Page 85 of The Goal

I blink back tears. “I’m usually the strong one. But right now I don’t feel strong at all.”

He draws me into his arms and suddenly we’re clinging to each other again. I’m pretty sure everyone on the ice is staring at us, wondering why we’re power-hugging like a couple of maniacs, but I don’t care. I’m on emotional overload, and maybe that’s what drives me to say, “I don’t think I want to keep it.”

Tucker eases back slightly. His expression is somber. “Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Then you need to take some more time to think about it,” he says softly. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble.

After a long beat, he reaches for my hand again. “Come on, let’s keep walking. I’ll tell you more about Coach Death and you can tell me all about how you french-kissed your Timberlake posters.”

I croak out a laugh. God. This guy… just… this guy. I want to thank him. Kiss him. Tell him how amazing he is.

But all I do is twine my fingers through his and let him guide me back to the path.

22

SABRINA

The phone feels like a brick in my hands. I have to schedule the D&C soon or I’ll be outside my window. I should’ve done it a month ago, damn it. It’s nearly the end of February and I’m fifteen weeks along. I don’t know why I’ve let it go so long.

Well, I do know why. Because I can’t make up my mind. Half the time, I think I’ll be better off without a child. The rest of the time, I can’t get the image of Beau’s casket out of my head.

Wetness dribbles down my cheeks and I swipe the tears away with an angry hand. Great. I’m crying in public. You would’ve thought I cried all my tears at Beau’s memorial. That was hideously brutal.

I knew it was a bad idea to study at Starbucks today, considering how hormonal I’ve been lately, but I didn’t want to be at home in case I finally worked up the nerve to call the clinic. I still haven’t told Nana about the pregnancy and I didn’t want her accidentally on purpose finding out.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m completely without direction. I haven’t seen Tucker since our day in the park, and I stopped answering his texts about a week ago. These days, I can’t focus on anything other than the impending decision that’s hanging over my head.

And it’s not just Tucker I’ve been ducking. I’ve only been to one weekly lunch with Hope and Carin since Beau’s death. I’ve blamed it on increased work hours, but I don’t think they’re buying it.

“Sabrina?”

My head jerks up. Joanna Maxwell is standing in front of my table. She’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and a stylish white clutch in the other. Draped in a royal-blue wool coat, she looks every inch the Broadway star that she’s going to be.

“Joanna.” I leap to my feet and give her a hug. “How are you?” Her bones feel about as sturdy as twigs in my embrace. I give her another squeeze before letting her go.

She smiles wanly. “Okay.”

“What are you doing in Boston? Is your show traveling?”

“No, it’s still playing in Manhattan.” A slow flush creeps up her neck. “I…ah…quit.”

Shock silences me for a second. “You quit?”

“Yes. I had an opportunity to do something else and I took it.” Her words are a mixture of defiance and embarrassment, as if she’s tired of having to justify her choices, which she certainly doesn’t have to do with me.

“Well, good for you.” But I’m confused, because when I hung out with Beau, he said that Broadway was Joanna’s dream.

“Right? I’m young, so if there’s ever a time for me to try new things, it’s right now.”

Trying new things terrifies me, but I nod anyway because I’m not the girl who lost her beloved brother.

I’m just the girl who’s knocked up.

“Absolutely. What are you doing?”

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