Changing Forever (31 page)

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, deciding it’s time to settle in for the night.

Maybe by tomorrow I’ll decide it’s not worth it again.

Today is my first physical therapy session since my mom gave me her version of a pep talk. I’ve been thinking about everything she said, and I do owe this to myself. Life may never be my idea of perfect again, but it doesn’t have to be this bad … it should be worth living at least.

As I wheel myself into the fitness room, my therapist smiles tightly. I’ve been anything but easy to work with, but that’s all about to change.

“Hey, Drake, how are you doing?” Keith, my therapist, asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Up until now, I’ve always given him the same answer.
How do you think I’m doing? I’m stuck in a fucking wheelchair.
Today may shock him. “I was able to get up on crutches.”

His eyes widen, and he can’t hide his grin. “That’s good. Do you want to try holding onto the bars and walking between them? It might help you gain back some leg strength.”

I’ve been dreading this moment, and the potential for failure, but I’m not going to let it hold me back. “Let’s do it.”

He helps me up and waits for me to gain my balance using mainly my arms. When he finally lets go, I slowly shuffle my feet, determined to get from one end to the other. When I struggle, I picture Emery standing at the other end waiting for me. It’s a dream I wish could be a reality, one that hurts even more because I lived it once. I would still be inside of it if I had just let her be there for me. Maybe this is where I belong … back in a nightmare.

My loneliness. My misery. My struggles … they’re all on me, and the cure is gone from my life forever.

It takes me almost the whole session, but I make it to the other end, letting memories of Emery guide me there.

M
Y
WHOLE
WORLD
HAS
TURNED
upside down since the last time I saw Drake Chambers.

I waited around the house for days after I called Drake, and he never called back. After two days full of ice cream, sad movies, and a few boxes of Kleenex, I decided I had to move on … resigned to raise this baby on my own. Drake doesn’t want me, and maybe he never did, and there are consequences I now have to face.

There is a piece of both of us growing inside me, and while the idea scared the crap out of me at first, I’m getting used to it now.

The first time I felt our baby move in my stomach, something changed. This is real. My love for this child is real. I had to stop running so I can give this baby the home it deserves.

During my last appointment, my doctor had asked if I wanted to know the sex, and I said no. There aren’t many surprises in life, and when I’m in labor, feeling like I want to give up, the desire to know if I’m having a son or daughter will help me through.

I waited until a few days after my doctor’s appointment to tell my dad about the baby. It went exactly how I expected.

“You want me to make you some breakfast?” he asks, disappearing behind the fridge door.

Just thinking about eating anything makes my stomach roll, especially eggs. “No, I’m not hungry.”

He looks up over the door, brows pulled in. “Are you okay? You haven’t been eating much lately.”

I hesitate, trying to form the perfect lie in my head, but in the end, I know it’s inevitable. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, holding the tears at bay.

The fridge door quickly slams shut. “What?” he asks, looking at me wide-eyed.

“I’m pregnant, Daddy.”

“What do you mean you’re pregnant? How?”

If it were anyone but me, I’d laugh at him right now, but this isn’t funny at all. All I can do is tap my fingernails on the table and wait.

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch!” he yells, standing over the sink.

“You don’t even know him, Daddy.”

He spins around so fast, it almost doesn’t seem possible. “What do you mean I don’t know him? Isn’t it Clay’s?”

I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t picked this exact moment to tell him.

“Then whose is it, Emery?”

“You don’t know him. I met him at school.”

“Well, where is he right now?”

I shrug. I honestly don’t know, but the last time I heard, he was in a rehab facility for his legs.

“Does he plan on helping you?”

I shake my head, letting a tear slip down my cheek. “He doesn’t know. I tried to tell him but he never called me back.”

Dad runs his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, Emery.”

“I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

He looks out over the sink again toward the endless meadow. I was his pride and joy. He bragged about how smart a girl I was every chance he got.

I don’t feel too smart anymore.

“What about school? You worked so hard for that scholarship.” He won’t look at me.

“I’m going to take some classes at the community college this semester, and then I’ll see what happens after the baby comes. I’m not giving up.” Just saying that kills me.

He nods, bracing his hands against the edge of the sink. He stays like that forever, without a look in my direction or a word spoken. It’s some of the worst minutes of quiet I’ve ever endured.

“I’m going out in the field. Call my cell if you need me,” he says, slamming the door behind him.

I spend most of the day crying. I’ve never felt more alone.

“Emery, I’m going out in the field. Are you going to be okay?”

My dad’s been treating me like I’m a little girl again, cooking me dinner and making sure I have everything I need before he leaves, even if it’s only for a short time. It feels good.

“I’m fine. Besides, Clay’s coming over, and we’re going into town to catch a movie.”

My dad’s eyes narrow. He does that a lot when he wants to say something but doesn’t necessarily think it’s his place. “Clay?”

“Yeah, you know Clay. And before you get any ideas, we’re friends,” I say in an attempt to put an end to this conversation. My dad’s always liked Clay, and I think it’s because they’re similar in so many ways. Clay decided to leave school behind to work on the family farm just like my dad. Clay’s kind, predictable, and when he commits to something, he sees it through … just like my dad. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I realized a long time ago, Clay wasn’t the guy for me.

“I see,” my dad says with a smile. I should squash his dream like a pesky little bug right now, but he won’t listen. He never does.

But with Kate so far away, Dad and Clay are all I have left.

“Do you want me to bring lunch out to the tractor today?” I ask, peeling the skin from my orange. I used to hate most fruits, but these days, I can’t get enough.

Walking over to kiss my forehead, he says, “I already packed a sandwich. Have fun today.”

I nod, watching him walk out the door. He does this every day for hours in the spring and fall. I used to think he was
miserable just because I didn’t see how anyone could be happy with this life. But these last few months, I’ve realized he is content. I just wish he had someone to share his life with.

As soon as my dad disappears into the machine shed, I head upstairs to get ready for my trip into town. It might sound crazy, but this is a lot of excitement for most people who live in the country. I’ve been stuck in this old house for almost a week now, watching old movies and catching up on my reading list.

The excitement lessens as I open my closet and scan my clothing options. Being seven months pregnant doesn’t suit my once-stylish wardrobe. At least most of the weight gain has stayed on my stomach and breasts.

I pull out a royal blue maxi dress with thick straps to give me the support I need. Next, I pin my hair up in a high ponytail and apply a thin layer of mascara and lip-gloss.

I finish just as the doorbell rings, and hurry down the stairs as fast as I can, opening it before Clay gets another chance to push the button.

“Hey,” he says, looking me up and down. His smile widens along the way creating some of the uneasiness I feel when we’re alone.

“Hey, are you ready to go?”

“More than ready. I have a little surprise for you.”

“Clay, I hate surprises.” I remember the last surprise I got … the carriage ride with Drake. The heavy weight I’ve been trying to escape drops in my chest again.

I hate surprises. Absolutely hate them.

“Come on. This is every pregnant woman’s dream,” he says, tilting his head to the side with the cocky smile I’ve known for years. He’s nothing like Drake. He’s only a few inches taller than me with dark hair and soft green eyes.

He’s cute; I can’t argue that. He’s also been there for me since the day I told him about the baby.

“Okay.” I grab my purse off the hook and follow him to his truck. It’s so hot I can feel my hair curling against my neck. “Does this surprise include ice cream because if it doesn’t, I can’t consider it a dream?”

He laughs, opening the door for me. “Of course it does.”

“Good, let’s get out of here then.”

E
VERY
SUMMER
, I
TAKE
MY
FAMILY
to the state fair. It’s a tradition, and as sad as it sounds, it’s become our annual
family vacation … our getaway doesn’t involve a single night spent away from home, but my sisters look forward to it.

I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with my life, but at least I know I can have one now. It took a few weeks, but after I set my mind to it, I was able to walk without my crutches. Progress was slow, but other than some weakness after long distances, I’m almost back to normal. I may never run again, and football is out of the cards, but for now, I’m dealing with life the best I can.

The part of this entire situation that stings the worst was my own doing. I chose to let Emery go, but I didn’t do it for myself. I did it for her, and every day I question whether I made the right decision. Is she happier now? Has she moved on? Does she still think of me?

I’ve grabbed my keys, ready to go after her more times than I can count, but I always talk myself out of it. She deserves more than the life I’d be able to give her. I think I’ve always known that, and my injury put me back in my place.

“Drake, can we get funnel cake?” Tessa asks as I pull into the parking lot next to the fairgrounds.

“Yeah, you can get a funnel cake, but you have to share it with Quinn?” I glance up in the rearview mirror, watching as she shakes her head.

After I park the car, I turn to my two sisters who are waiting patiently in the back seat. “I want you guys to stay close to me, got it?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “I’m fifteen. You don’t have to treat me like I’m four anymore, Drake.”

Girls are not easy to deal with. Quinn solidifies this every day.

“There are thousands of people in there. I’m not going to spend hours looking for you when it’s time to go.”