The dent in our vows

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David's Pov

Dawn wasn't by my side when I woke up the next morning. She didn't speak to me either. I couldn't blame her. I acted like a total dick last night but that hadn't been my intention. Granted, my state of mind was fucked. When you find out the kid you thought you killed who turned out to be alive is sick and dying again, it kind of just throws you off.

But believe me when I say I wanted to tell her everything. I did. After hearing what Stella had to say, I'd planned on coming clean to my wife. I worked up a speech in my head. I was going to tell her I did something horrible. I was going to tell her about Stacey, about the pregnancy. I was going to tell her why I wanted the baby gone. I was going to tell her that every single woman who ever had a son in my family died.

I didn't know why, I didn't know how, and the doctors didn't have a logical reason either. Somehow it just happened, and I didn't want the same shit to happen to her. The birth control pills, all the crap about not wanting kids; it was all just a way to cover up my cowardice and faults.

Last night, I was just about ready to tell her all this, but one step inside the house, one whiff of the homely air, and the thought of the things I could lose if things went south, I bailed.

It was greedy, selfish, cowardly of me, I knew but I'd already lost a lot of things in my life and I didn't want Dawn to be one of them so I was going to try to fix this. There were so many different layers to this problem but I was going to unfold it one by one, starting with my kid.

"So you're telling me Stacey had the fucking kid," Tanner asked me for the umpteenth time as he drove to the hospital. "You fucking have a three-year-old son, David."

"I know," I said, contemplating if this huge brown teddy bear I'd gotten from the shopping mall was going to be a good enough present.

"Still can't believe Stacey is dead," Tanner spoke again as he maneuvered into the hospital's driveway. "I liked that chick."

I hummed a reply whilst looking outside the window and wondering what the hell I was supposed to say to my son.

Did I even deserve to call him my son?

If he knew the shit I put Stacey through just to have her get rid of him, he'd hate me.

"Remember the last frat party we busted and how she drew you by the ears out of the house and whipped your ass for doing drugs on an exam night?" He cracked. "She was the only one who could control you and make you—"

"Tanner." I stopped him. "You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, it's just—" He shook his head. "This is a lot to take in."

"We'll have to accept it eventually; Stacey is dead and she left me a last fuck you present in the form of a kid."

"It's not your fault, David." He tried to console me. "Her death is not your fault."

"Oh yeah." My grip on the teddy bear tightened. "If I hadn't fucked her or gotten her pregnant, she might have still been alive."

"This was a choice she made."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be a good friend, what the fuck are you getting pissed at me for?"

I exhaled. "I'm sorry okay, I'm freaking frustrated."

The past days had been like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.