Page 23 of Everything But Mine

I finally push off the climbing wall, landing with a controlled thud. My muscles burn, but it’s a background sensation now, something I barely register. Diego’s words linger in my head, circling in a slow orbit.

You’re gonna claim that baby as yours.

I roll out my shoulders and grab my hoodie from where I left it on the bench. The fabric is stiff with dried sweat, but when I pull it over my head, the faint scents of chalk and synthetic citrus from the gym’s cleaner mix with something deeper—something warm, familiar.

Amanda.

It’s barely there, an echo in the cotton. But it’s enough. I don’t even realize I’ve stopped moving, already somewhere else.

The memory hits before I can stop it, before I can brace myself. I’ve missed the window on being her first child’s dad, but there’s a first I managed to steal.

It had been one of those long, late-night gatherings, the kind where the adults drank too much wine and forgot to keep track of us. The cabins converged around a central clearing, strung with dim patio lights, a bonfire flickering in the middle. Voices drifted through open doors, fading in and out.

I had drifted too—off the deck, deeper into the woods, where Amanda was sitting, ankles crossed, tugging at a loose thread on her shorts. The lighting was dim, but enough that I could make out her features.

I dropped down next to her, stretching my legs out in front of me. “What are you doing here, sulking?”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m not sulking.”

“You sure look like it.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, but there was a beat of hesitation before she said, “It’s stupid.” She paused, as if she was checking how safe it was to continue. “Just a guy at school.”

My stomach tightened. This was new. Amanda had never brought up boys before. “What about him?”

She shrugged, but the motion was stiff. “I like him. Like, really like him.” She sighed. “But he’s older. A senior. He said ‘hi’ to me. Asked me what I was reading. And I giggled like he was so hot I couldn’t form words. I didn’t know what to say so he’d keep talking to me.”

That was new too. Amanda had always been a little too fearless for her own good.

I tilted my head, watching her. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled, still fidgeting with the loose thread. “He’s… experienced. I’ve seen him with at least three girls. Sucking face in the halls.”

My jaw clenched. “You like a guy who makes out with girls in the halls? A senior?”

What the fuck?

She shrugged. “You do it, and you’re a junior. Why is it any different?”

Yeah, idiot. Walked right into that one.

“So, what, you want him to suck your face in the halls?”

“Not in the halls,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

What on earth is going on?

“Anyway.” She sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Why do you even like this guy? He sounds like a total douche.”

She shrugged. “We were in the library once. He was working on some assignment. Threw a draft in the trash. Hit me⁠—”

My eyes widened. “He hit you?”

“Jeez, Eric, by accident.” She swallowed. “He was working on his personal statement. It was beautiful.” Amanda wouldn’t look at me when she said it. “Anyhoo, I’d embarrass myself even if he were into me.”

For the first time in a long time, I let myself really look at Amanda. She had grown. Her small frame had filled out, her thighs stronger and shapely, her hips more defined. She’d been wearing a bra for years, but the swell of her breasts looked less subtle than it had before. She didn’t look much different from the sixteen-year-old I had taken to homecoming.