No way. Our baby had not been given a second chance. And Gavin had left me, discarded like his clothing in the aisle of the church. A person capable of that was not the sort of man I could depend on for anything.
But he was holding out his hand, those fingers I had once known so well. My gaze moved up his arm, darker and hairier than it had been, to the sleeve of his T-shirt, and his shoulder, broader now, like a man’s instead of a boy’s. Then back up to that chiseled face. And those eyes, piercing blue. I was sure the baby would have them. But I never got to see. He never opened his eyes.
Life rushed at me too hard then and I felt light, like I was floating. My old habit of holding my breath too long when I was in distress kicked in without my thinking about it. I was going to faint, escape into black oblivion, my one safe place.
My knees buckled and I bent over the rail. Gavin rushed down the last steps and held on to me, pulling me into that familiar embrace. He smelled of outdoors, boyish soap, and the life I once loved.
As my vision turned to spots, I realized that maybe I’d arrived at the college by the sea just to come home.
Chapter 3: Gavin
Corabelle had to have known I’d be here. She HAD to.
I held her against the rail, making sure she didn’t fall. Her black hair was all tied up, and her face was so pale. She’d never been super sturdy, and the whole time she was pregnant I feared she would just slip away.
I had no answers for her. Why I left. Why I stayed away. Or why I came to UCSD, which was a risk. It had always been our plan, and we were both accepted our senior year. But then we found out about the baby. New Mexico State had been closer to people who could help us out as we navigated work, college, and family.
Her breathing was shallow and fast. I held on to her, waiting for her to come back around.
I figured I knew what she was seeing behind those closed eyes, her lashes curled against her cheek. Finn. Despite what Corabelle might think, that I wanted to erase the memory of him and those seven days we had him, I still had his picture. One was always with me.
When she began to move around again, I used my free hand to tug my wallet out and flipped it to the center. “I never forgot.”
Corabelle’s eyes fluttered open, but when she saw the picture I held out, she pushed away from me, despite her unsteadiness. “Why do you have that? You don’t deserve it!”
I jumped in front of her and took her arm. “I was Finn’s father. I do too deserve it.”
“You didn’t do ANYTHING! You took off!” Her eyes were going red, like she’d cry. Damn it, I hated it when she cried. But I had nothing to say to that.
She jerked her arm away from me, and I actually felt relief that she was angry rather than in tears. Anger I could deal with.
“I’m dropping this class,” she said. “But I can’t leave here. I have to finish my degree.”
“Wait. You didn’t finish in New Mexico?”
“How did you know where I went?” Corabelle stood straight as a crowbar.
“I assumed. I planned to find you.”
“But you didn’t.” Her brown eyes flashed with little sparks of light, like they always did when she got mad. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever known, something I’d taken for granted when I was a numbskull teen.
“It was too late by then,” I said. Too late on all counts, even the ones she didn’t know about.
Her hand shook a little as she gripped the metal slats of the railing. “Probably so.”
I wanted to ask what happened at NMSU, but she had changed from upset to fear, as if she had something to hide. She never did have much of a poker face.
I didn’t want to be the cause of any more distress for her. “I’ll drop the class. Hell, I’m on the ten-year plan already. It won’t matter.”
“Why aren’t YOU finished yet?” she asked.
“Work. I have to pay every dollar for school myself.”
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said. “I thought you’d be done with college.”
“Yeah, well, when you ditch the school that was giving you a free ride, it’s hard to convince another one to cough up any dough.”
She nodded, and I figured something similar had happened to her. At least she was calm again.
“Can I walk you somewhere?” I didn’t really want to leave her alone after all this.
“No, I need to figure things out.” Corabelle squeezed the bridge of her nose, a little gesture I had forgotten, something she did when she was stressed.
“I’m serious. I’ll drop the course,” I said.
“Don’t you need it? What’s your major?”
“Geology.”
“Rocks? Seriously? What happened to teaching?”
I didn’t answer, and she looked away. She knew why. Kids were not my thing, not now, not anymore.
She twisted at her ponytail. “I switched to literature. I plan to teach college instead of elementary.”
That made sense to me. “Professor suits you.”
“Maybe. I’d hoped to be a TA by now. This is just an elective. I can pick another.”
“So can I.”
She sighed. “I’ll go talk to my counselor, see what I can get into.”
I squeezed her shoulder, relieved when she didn’t flinch. “You were always doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Inconveniencing yourself for others. You always took care of everyone else first.”