Page 142 of When It's Us
I swallow and look up at my brothers. The looks on their faces—masks of pity and sadness—I can’t bear it. I drop my eyes to the floor between my feet, feeling the sting of rejection in my chest as strong as if I were still standing on that porch reading that letter and blue sticky note for the first time.
I sniff, hating that my eyes burn with tears I haven’t cried in years, not since the day she left. “We’d been talking about getting married. She was still so young, though, barely nineteen, and you guys know how her parents were,” I say, shaking my head again. “Real strict, religious. Then, I got that new job at the lumber mill in Livingston. I bought a ring.” I chuckle to myself when I remember how nervous I’d been on the drive to her house with it in my pocket.
“I didn’t have a lot of money, but I wanted something nice.”
I spent $750at a pawn shop on a tiny solitaire diamond and a plain gold band for her.
“I drove all the way there praying to God she didn’t hate it. Hell, I prayed her daddy wouldn’t come out on the porch with a shotgun and shoot my ass,” I say on a humorless chuckle, but both of my brothers stay silent.
“There was a hospital letterhead taped to the door with a Post-it telling me it was over.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hank mutters softly.
“She left before I even got there.” My voice sounds flat, but inside it still burns. “I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl,” I pause, “never got to ask if she was okay. Or how it happened.”
That silence stuck. Still sticks.
I pull in a shaky breath. “And the part I never said out loud until now?”I glance between them, then look down.“I didn’t try to come back from it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hudson asks after a long beat. When I don’t answer, he drops beside me on the couch. “Why didn’t you talk to one of us? We would’ve understood. Been there for you.”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, my voice hoarse.
“So you’ve kept this in for years? Carried it around alone, torturing yourself over it?” Hank asks.
“What was there to say?” I finally look up at him. “It would’ve made things worse. Mom and Pop…”God, I’ve hated for years that they never knew they had another grandchild. Mine would’ve been the first. And they don’t even know. I’m not even sure I want them to.
“I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me. And it wasn’t like there was anything I could do about it. I dealt with it the best way I knew how.”
“Which was not to deal with it at all?” Hudson says quietly. “Fuck, Hutch. I wish you had come to me. You know none ofthis was your fault, right? The baby, Sarah leaving. It wasn’t about you.”
I turn to look at my brother. “Wasn’t it?”
“Of course not,” Hank says, dropping onto the couch on my other side. “Sarah chose to leave.”
“To leave me.”
“That’s not on you,” Hudson says. “Do you remember what you told me when Tristen left?”
I nod. “That the decision was hers. Not yours to take on.”
“And this is no different,” Hank says, surprisingly gentle.
“And the baby?” I ask.
Hank shakes his head and he’s quiet again for a couple of beats. “I can’t answer that. But Icantell you it isn’t because of something you did. Sometimes horrible shit just happens. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”
“I’m sorry, Hutch,” Hudson says. “I can’t believe you’ve been able to keep this in for years.”
I huff out a breath, bumping him with my shoulder. “Told you when you asked me to keep you and Finn’s wedding under wraps last year that I knew a thing or two about keeping secrets.”
Hudson smiles sadly. “I wish you didn’t, though.”
I nod. “Yeah, me too.”
“Does Ginger know?” Hanks asks. “About the baby, I mean?”
“She does,” I say, settling back on the couch between my brothers. They both stay where they’re seated, Hank looking over his shoulder at me.
