The air leaves my lungs in a rush and my head swims from the lack of oxygen. I stare back at Poppy, her blue eyes searching mine desperately as her confession hangs heavily in the air. I had my suspicions, but hearing the confirmation has my entire world spinning around me.
“I’m sorry, August,” Poppy whispers, her voice sounding like she’s miles and miles away. Tilting my head to the side, a wave of confusion passes over me. It’s like she’s apologizing because she doesn’t know what else to say. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
No. She’s not apologizing because she doesn’t know what else to say… she’s apologizing because she truly feels like she’s at fault for this. That she’s the one who did this to me. But she’s got it all wrong.
“It’s my fault,” I croak out the words, running a hand through my tousled hair. “I should have been more careful, but figured we were fine since you were on the pill, and I got caught up in the fucking moment.” I pause for a moment, my eyes falling to her half-eaten sandwich on the table as my hands curl into fists. “Fuck.”
“Look,” Poppy starts quietly, a sigh slipping from her lips. “It’s neither of our faults. It was an accident and accidents happen. I don’t want nor expect anything from you, okay? You asked, so I couldn’t hold the truth from you.”
My eyebrows draw together and I cut my eyes at her as I lift them from the table. Frustration builds inside, bordering on the edge of anger as I mull over her words. “And what if I wouldn’t have asked?” I question her, my voice low and harsh as I stare into the oceanic depths of her eyes. “You were never going to tell me, were you?”
Poppy is silent for a moment, her eyes widening as she swallows hard. “I hadn’t made that decision yet.”
“And when the fuck were you going to, Poppy?” I can’t control the anger that seeps from my words. “In a few more months? When the baby’s born? Or maybe after their fifth birthday?” I pause for a moment, the anger rolling through my body as I clench my fists harder. “What. The. Fuck, Poppy.”
Her face falls for a moment, but she quickly recovers, pushing her shoulders back as she lifts her chin in defiance. I watch as the ice glazes over her eyes and her guard is firmly in place, completely impenetrable from my anger. “I was going to tell you when I felt ready to, whenever that may have been. You have your entire life planned out, and you made it clear what your priorities in life are. The last thing I wanted to do was derail your plans with a baby.”
My jaw clenches and I blink at her. “Poppy. You’re pregnant with my fucking baby. You don’t think that’s something I would want to know?”
She simply shrugs, picking up her drink as she sucks some of the liquid through the straw. “I don’t know.” She pauses for a moment, a frown forming on her face. “Like I said, August, you have your entire life planned out. Hockey will always come first for you. Why would I want to impose and potentially mess that up for you?”
I stare back at her, my voice refusing to produce any words as my mouth hangs open slightly. She’s pregnant, yet trying to justify not telling me because she doesn’t want to mess things up in my life. I don’t even know what to think or how to even process her way of thinking. It’s not logical in any sense. Of course, hockey is my life, but she’s carrying my child now.
“This changes fucking everything,” I argue, my voice low and calm. I don’t know whether to be more pissed off at her or hurt that she would keep something like this from me. And my mind won’t cooperate. I can’t convince it to try and see things from her point of view.
“And that’s exactly what I don’t want,” she retorts, shaking her head at me as she checks the time on her phone. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I’ve been fine without you and will continue to be fine. If you want to be a part of the baby’s life, I respect that decision. But don’t give up everything you’ve worked for in life because of this.”
“Poppy… do you hear your-fucking-self right now?” I can’t control the anger in my voice, the hurt that snakes its way around my throat, tightening itself like a vise grip. “You respect my decision if I want to be a part of its life? Do you really think that low of me? That I’m that much of a piece of shit I wouldn’t be involved in this?”
Swinging my legs over the side of the bench, I abruptly stand to my feet and run my hands through my hair. I stare down at Poppy as she tips her head back, her eyes finding mine with an icy glaze. A wave of pain passes through her crystal-clear irises and she winces, almost as if my words were a blow.
If anyone is feeling the fucking shrapnel from this, it’s me. Deep in my gut, she hits me where it hurts and I don’t know how to process this.
“I have to go.” My voice is hoarse and rough as I shake my head at her. “This isn’t me walking away from you or our child, even though that’s exactly what you’d expect from me. I just need to process this and with how abrasive you’re being, I need some space.”
“That’s fine,” she says quietly, her voice small, but she straightens her spine, attempting to appear unaffected. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”
My throat constricts as my heart pounds erratically in my chest, my pulse bouncing out of the side of my neck with such force. “I need your new number. I’ll call you later, we can talk about this over dinner.”
“I already have plans this evening.”
My face contorts and I narrow my eyes at her. “With who?”
My stomach churns at the thought of her carrying my child and going out with someone else. If I find out who it is, they’ll have hell to pay.
“That’s none of your concern,” Poppy responds in a cold tone. A moment passes before her face softens. I watch her tear a piece of paper from a notebook inside her bag and she scribbles something on it with a pen before handing it to me. “I’m going to dinner with my mother tonight.”
Her words bring my anger down slightly, but I’m still a mess, my head not knowing what is up or down right now. Relief floods me knowing that I was overthinking and expecting the worst, thinking that she was going out with another guy. This is what Poppy does to me. She clouds my vision and sends me through a whirlwind.
“I’ll call you this evening, after I get home from practice,” I tell her, waiting for her confirmation. She bites down on her bottom lip, her teeth carving small half-crescent shapes into her plump flesh, and I resist the urge to run my teeth over the marks marring her skin. “Thank you for being honest with me, Poppy.”
She swallows hard, her nostrils flaring slightly as she releases her lips. They part slightly, her chest falling as a ragged breath escapes her, and she nods. I wait for a moment, in case she wants to get another word in, but she doesn’t.
I know I shouldn’t walk away from her right now, but I need space, and time to process. It fucks with my brain, thinking about how she has known for a few months and didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to disrupt my life…
Doesn’t she already know?
She disrupted my life the moment she walked into it…
