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"I'm sorry," I whispered, walking on shaky legs towards her bed. "I should have come earlier."

"You're here now," she replied. "That's all that matters."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I stared at the tiny baby boy in her arms, with hair as black as coal. "He's beautiful, guys," I whispered.

"His name is Finn Hunter Messina," Noah told me quietly.

"That's a good name," I strangled out, batting away the tears falling on my cheeks. "So, you're a mom!" I tried to smile when I said it and sound enthusiastic, but it was hard to do when tears were pouring down my face. "Suits you."

"Do you want to hold him?" Teagan asked.

I shook my head and stood up.

I couldn’t hold him.

I wasn’t emotionally strong enough right now.

"I'm going away for a while," I told them with a sniffle. "I'm going to go stay with my grandma in Louisiana." I shrugged helplessly. "Clear my head and all that jazz."

"Hope," Teagan said, tone sad. "You don’t have to go–"

"I need to do this, Teegs," I told her. "For me. For the baby…" I shook my head and exhaled a ragged breath. "I need to heal, and I can't do it here."

"Promise me that you'll call me," she said, voice hoarse, eyes watering.

I nodded. "I promise."

"I hope you find what you need down there, Hope. I really do," Noah said gruffly, brown eyes locked on me. "And when you do, come back home to us." He shrugged helplessly. "You and that kid are our family."

"I will." Wiping the tears from my eyes, I took one final glance at my best friends. "Goodbye," I whispered before walking away.

****

Chapter Sixty-Two

Hope

Five Months Later

"That was your daddy on the phone," my grandmother announced in her thick southern accent as she stood in the doorway of my bedroom. "He'll be here in thirty minutes."

"Okay," I mumbled, concentrating on the stubborn zip on my suitcase.

Blowing out a breath when I finally managed to get the damn thing closed, I turned to my grandmother and said, "Grandma, I'm scared."

"It's okay to be scared, Hope," she said, tone gentle and laced with empathy. "We've talked about this, honey."

Yeah, we had talked – a lot.

About my past.

About my future.

About the baby.

Abouthim.

"If you're not ready, you can always stay," Grandma urged. Walking over to where I was standing, she took my hand in hers and said, "You are always welcome in my home."

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