I'm climbing a mountain with a backpack full of bricks.

The mountain is imaginary. The bricks are, too. What's real is my shitty grade in the quiz I thought I aced. I know it's one of many, and it's not that important in the grand scheme of things, but the facts are hard to deny.

Fact number one: this semester is gonna kick my ass.

Fact number two: being smart doesn't mean shit when you have to memorize walls of text.

Fact number three: the hours I spend working impact the time I spend studying.

I'm too exhausted to focus properly on some days. But if I don't work, I won't have enough to pay for school. I don't regret buying the apartment, either. It's our home now, our little sacred place—something I did for us. 

"It's gonna be alright," Bast says as we exit the Science building. "Everyone's grades are shitty this time."

"I know. I'm just mad at myself. It's not like I don't know how to study."

Bast looks skyward and lowers his gaze to the ground, biting his lip.

I zip up my parka. "What?"

"What you do is too much for anyone, let alone for a future medical school student. Other than your vacation, you haven't caught a break in months, dude. I have a workaholic in my family. Believe me; it's only fun until it isn't."

"I'm not a workaholic. I started later than most of our classmates, and I won't even get to work as a doctor before I'm thirty."

"I'm only suggesting you stop being so hard on yourself. Feel free not to listen."

"Thanks for the concern." I half-smile and clutch the strap of my backpack. "See you tomorrow."

"See you."

Bast strolls to his car, and I get on my Harley, glancing at the watch. Leah will be home soon. I told her I was meeting Dad and Jim, but I want to say goodbye before leaving. 

At our place, I shower and get changed quickly. The front door opens when I'm checking my phone for new texts from my brother.

Leah walks into the room. "Hey," she says.

I smile at her. "Hey, Princess. I was waiting to say goodbye before I leave. You okay?"

She shakes her head slowly. Something in her expression makes me shove my phone into my pocket and focus on her. She looks tired, but it's more than that. It's as if she's scared.

"I'm pregnant," she chokes out.

My heart skips a beat. Then it does a back flip. That's not what she's saying. It can't be. 

My throat constricts. I open my mouth to breathe because the air gets trapped somewhere and doesn't make it to my lungs. I try to think. To remember. She was a bit grumpy like she is on some days each month. "But you...the period," I say. What the hell is wrong with me? I don't sound like myself.

"It was light, and I… I think it wasn't. It must've been something else."

Pregnant. I got her pregnant. What about her studies? What about her dreams? She's twenty. She turned twenty less than a month ago. My girl is almost a kid herself — a kid who was working for her first internship so damn hard. I did this to her. I grip my hair. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Leah stares at the rug. Will she be able to look at me after this? She must hate me for being so damn stupid. I want to be a fucking doctor. Doctors know what happens when you stick your bare dick into someone. Pregnancies happen. I had one fucking job, and I failed. That night in Mexico, I was drunk. And she felt so fucking good. We went at it all fucking night, and I didn't think. Not once did I stop to think. I just felt her. And loved her. And now I ruined everything.

My hand shakes. I run it across my face. "We'll figure something out, okay? Wait for me. I'll be back soon, and we'll see what we can do."

Figure something out? As in, figure out how the hell to make her want to be with me after this? 

I kiss her forehead and march to the front door. My movements are robotic. I go to the garage, get on my Harley, unlock the gate, ride out. Ride to Jim's. 

When I enter his condo, he and Dad sit on the living room couch, having coffee.

They swivel their heads. Jim frowns when he sees me. 

"Little fucker," he says. "Is everything alright?"

Pops smiles. "Must be girl trouble. When's she due?"

Oh, the irony. I stare at my trembling hand and count. January. February. 

"October," I say. "Maybe the end of September."

Jim's jaw drops. He puts his cup on the coffee table and gets up slowly as if he's afraid a brisk movement will startle me. Hell, maybe he's right to be scared.

"For real?"

The worry on my brother's face gives way to something entirely different — joy. "Fuck. Dad, did you hear what he said? Brian's going to be a dad."

A dad.

It sinks in. What my girl said sinks in. I'm going to be a dad. We made a tiny person together—someone who will have her beautiful smile, and maybe her gray eyes, and probably my stubbornness. 

My issues. My anxiety.

"What kind of father am I gonna be?" I choke. "This is...I'm not..."

I'm not that guy yet. I'm on my way to being that guy—the mature, responsible, reliable guy like my dad, but I'm not him. What if I'll never be?

"Brian." Dad's voice slices through the stiff air of Jim's condo. "Come sit here. Give him water and open the window, Jim. The little fucker looks like he might pass out."

I obey. My legs shake. I might fall if I don't sit, anyway.

Jim gives me a glass of water and lowers himself onto the couch by my side. He watches me drink with a smile on his lips.

"It'd better be a girl," he says. "I don't think this family can handle another dude. Right, dad?"

Dad laughs. "Right. We need a beautiful princess to spoil her rotten. She can be a badass, too, don't get me wrong. Mom is. She was a feisty little thing when we met. Still is, not gonna lie. Keeps me on my toes two little fuckers and twenty-four years later."

He must be fucking kidding right now. I slam my glass on the table and jump to my feet. "Didn't you fucking hear me, both of you? I'm going to be a father! Me! Fucking look at me! I'd been on anxiety meds until this fall. I almost fucking killed myself. I've barely started to figure my shit out. I am nobody. I know nothing. I have nothing yet. How can I raise a damn kid?"

"You what?"

Dad's voice is low. Jim's face is white. My brother buries his face in his palms, then he drops his hands, and I see him biting his lip, teeth sinking into it, and maybe drawing blood.

"Anxiety meds? Suicide?" Dad's jaw trembles. 

Jim puts a hand on his shoulder. "Dad, he's okay now. Right, Brian? That's not the issue here. He's going to be a dad, and he's scared, but dude," my brother looks at me, "you're a great guy. You'll go far and do great things. Give yourself some credit, for fuck's sake. You're young, so what? Look how many guys Dad's age are shitty fathers. Remember Kennedy? Or hell, Mac. You know what they've been through. You're gonna take care of your baby. You'll give your child the best of you. Who the fuck cares about the rest? It's not like there's a person who can figure out how to raise a human being before making one. They don't teach that shit at school, am I right?"

"Right." Dad swallows. "I raised two, and look at the lousy job I've done since I had no idea what my son was going through."

I should reassure him and tell him it's not his fault, but Leah's face appears in front of my eyes. She must've been terrified, and I fucked up. I left her alone and ran away like a damn coward. How much shit can she take from me before she decides she's had enough?

"I have to go home," I say. "We'll talk about it, but my girl is there alone, and I didn't react well. I have to fix it."

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Jim groans. "Go. I'll call you later, or better, call me when you sort everything out so I can congratulate both of you."

"I will," I say and rush out of Jim's condo.

My mind's a mess on my way home, but at least I come up with the words I need to say — the words I had to say before leaving. Instead of leaving.

Silence reigns in our apartment. "Baby?" I call, checking room after room.

She isn't here. Where could she go, alone and pregnant?

A lump forms in my throat. I call her, and the buzz of Leah's phone diverts my attention to the couch. The gadget is there. She forgot it or didn't take it on purpose, and I can't talk to her. She might be with Annie or Tara. I need to call them, but I go to our bedroom first to make sure Leah's clothes are there. If she leaves me—

I rub a hand over my face. She can't. She wouldn't because we're having a baby together, and I love her.

Her clothes hang on their hangers, and relief fills my insides. But then, my eyes dart to our bed and land on an open box. 

It's full of letters. I recognize them as mine, but as I take a step closer, different handwriting catches my eye.

I perch on the edge of the bed and pick up the page.

Leah, 

You already know how chaotic my life is. I'm not sure when I'll see you again, but I'd love to spend more time with you. We could go to a different beach in Spain. I'd teach you how to surf and watch you giggle with excitement.

Happiness looks good on you, gorgeous. It makes your eyes sparkle, and those around you can't help but be happy, too. 

Your strength amazes me. You didn't crumble despite everything life threw at you. You kept your kindness intact and moved on, choosing to forgive.

Go after your dreams and always put yourself first. The man you'll call yours will be happy to have you and love you. I'm happy to have met you and grateful for the moments we shared, especially that night walk on the beach and our last conversation. I drank in your every word, and I wanted to give you something you can read when you feel down. 

You're smart and beautiful, and you deserve the best. If you forget that one day, read this letter.

Or call me, and I will remind you why you're the most incredible girl I've ever met.

May your wildest dreams come true.

Love,

That motherfucker.

Love.

How dare he? He's lucky to be far. I wouldn't hesitate to break his dick.

Jealousy prickles at me. She chose to read his letter before leaving. His, not mine. Doesn't she believe I love her? Doesn't she know I fucking live for her? Wasn't what I said enough for Leah to see how much she means to me?

I toss the damn page back into the box, although I'd rather destroy it. Cradling my head in my hands, I breathe once, twice, three times.

I sit there for a while until a different feeling takes over — worry.

She's out there alone. I grab my cell and text Mac.

Me: Is Leah with Annie?

Mac: No. Annie and I are at the mall. What's up?

Me: Nothing. She left her phone.

Mac types something else, but I'm already texting a different number.

Me: Is Tara home?

Bast: In the living room, doing yoga. At least one of us is fucking zen. Wait, why?

Me: Leah left her phone at home.

Over the next hour, I call every hospital in the city. Harris Memorial is my first option, but Alec tells me she isn't there. 

I'm going crazy. My heart hammers, and my palms sweat. What if something happens to her? I should probably look for her, but where? She could be anywhere. I pick up the phone again and call a clinic I forgot about.

A bored voice tells me to wait. Then, they ask her name again.

"Leah," I say. "Mit—"

The front door opens. I drop the phone and swing around.

"Thank fuck. Where the fuck have you been? I called every fucking hospital in this goddamned city. What the hell, Leah?" I yell and instantly regret it. Leah looks tired, and her cheeks are wet.

"Funny that you pretend you care," she says, and it feels like a stab in my fucking heart.

"Pretend I care?" My voice quivers. "I come home to see you're gone, and a letter from another fucker is on our bed. Our bed. In our fucking home."

"Maybe you shouldn't snoop."

"Maybe you shouldn't leave without your fucking phone! You're pregnant. You don't even wait for me and read the letter of that dick instead."

Words, not the ones I planned to say but wrong, stupid, jealous words tumble out of my mouth. I know she doesn't care about him. I know he's nobody, and she loves me. She tells me she loves me every night and morning. She whispers she loves me when I'm buried deep inside her. We're going to have a baby together.

"That's what you worry about? You leave me and run away, and we're talking about Asher right now? I don't know anything about his dick, but yours was inside me, and I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant, and you left me. Again."

Pain drips from each word Leah says, but I didn't leave her. I could never.

"I told you I was meeting Dad and Jim, Leah. I was back in less than an hour. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Everything!" She throws her hands up. "Everything is wrong because you take off the minute shit gets rough. But you know what? I'm not the same girl you left. You don't want a kid; I get it. I'll manage on my own. I don't need you. I'm strong, and I'm-"

She cries, and my heart breaks. Why the fuck do I always make her cry?
The letter I recognize — my letter — appears in Leah's hand, and I feel a thousand times worse.

"I took this with me, you stupid idiot. But you know what? I shouldn't have. Every word is a lie."

She can't be saying this shit for real. Leah knows me. "A lie? What the fuck else can I do to prove I love you?" I ask, my voice breaking.

"I needed you. Big mistake. I should've known better than to trust you."

She turns to leave, but I grip her hand. This isn't right. I have to fix everything. I have to reassure her, tell her I love her until she believes me again because that's the truth. She's everything to me. My entire world locked in one person. 

Not in one. Now it's locked in two. I blink away the tears. "Wait. For God's sake, wait."

Leah breaks free. "I need to pee."

I let her go, but follow her and lean against the wall outside our bathroom. We're talking about this, about us. We're talking about our baby and plan our next steps. I'm not letting my misplaced reaction ruin our love. True, I'm shocked, and so is Leah, but we love each other. Love trumps everything. Love always wins, they say.

A sob rips my pretend calm to shreds. I barge into the bathroom and stare at the crimson stains on Leah's underwear.

No. God, please, no.

"I'm bleeding," Leah whispers, her tiny hand pressed to her still flat stomach.

It feels like the end. The end of our happiness. The end of us.