WHEN HE ASKED, I PICKED the farm because it gives me peace. It’s where I always used to go when I needed time to think or mend a broken heart. If he’s going to hurt me, he might as well do it here.

Not a word was said on the way out to the car or on the ten-minute drive out here besides a few directions from me on where to turn.

He pulls into the drive of my grandparents’ old farm. My dad inherited it after grandma passed away a couple years ago but he hasn’t gotten up the nerve to sell it, and I don’t think he ever will. I hope not anyway. Behind the house is a big red barn and just beyond that is a narrow creek and miles of cornfields. Along the creek is where I like to sit and think. No one bothers me back there.

“Park in front of the barn,” I instruct.

He does, and I waste no time jumping out to grab one of grandpa’s old horse blankets from the barn.

“Where are you going?” he yells from behind me.

“Meet me behind the barn!” I yell back, not even bothering to look at him. Sometimes, when you feel your heart cracking, you do your best to build a shield around it so the pieces won’t fall apart completely. That’s what I’m doing—bracing for the worst while also trying to convince myself I can do this on my own. It won’t be easy—nothing ever is—but I’ve proven to myself over the last year that I’m strong. Hopefully, I’m strong enough to get through this.

When I walk out behind the barn, he’s standing with his back to me overlooking the water. I would give anything to have a glimpse inside his head … to get a snapshot of his thoughts.

“Here,” I say, throwing the blanket down to clear a spot in the long grass. Dad doesn’t get out here to mow often.

“I’m okay,” he replies as I sit down, resting back on my elbows. The warm sun beats down on my pale legs, but I can’t complain because this is what summer on the farm is all about.

“Blake, I need you to say something. I may not like what you’re about to say, but silence is worse,” I admit.

“Do you ever wonder if you really control any part of your life?” he asks, throwing a long piece of grass into the creek.

I’m not sure where he’s going, but I play anyway. “I think our lives are ours to live. Things we don’t plan for are simply obstacles.”

“I didn’t want to get married at such a young age, but with her I just knew. She made me want to be better without even asking. My job was to protect her—make sure she had everything she needed—but I couldn’t even do that. I didn’t chose to live without her, and sometimes when things are really bad, I go to the studio and pretend she’s still at home waiting for me.”

My heart hammers as I wait for him to start talking again. I wonder if he feels it, or if he feels it too much, and that’s why he can’t look at me. I’m waiting for the part where he tells me he can’t do this, and as much as I thought I was prepared for it, it’s going to crush me.

“There’s something I’ve never told anyone. It’s been slowly eating away at me, and I’m not going to be the father your baby deserves unless I deal with it.”

I open my mouth to tell him it’s our baby, but he cuts me off. “The day I lost Aly, I lost a baby too. One I didn’t even know she was carrying.”

My mouth gapes. I never thought … I never would have thought. “How did you find out?” I whisper, quietly standing behind him. I want so badly to wrap my arms around him.

“The doctor told me after her autopsy. He guessed she was about eight weeks along.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Do you think she knew?”

I can’t take it anymore. I wrap my arms around his waist. I’m not sure where this is going … where we’re going, but he shouldn’t go through this alone. “That she was pregnant?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

My cheek rests on his warm T-shirt, feeling how fast his heart beats. “No, I don’t think she knew. It’s hard to describe, but after only a few days, I already love my little bean. I want to do everything right by him or her. I couldn’t imagine … I couldn’t.”

He inhales a deep breath. “She used to talk about having kids. I wasn’t ready and didn’t think it would be good for her. After she died, I thought—” he chokes up, his breaths coming faster.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me.” Tears stream down my cheeks. His pain is mine. It has been since he stole my heart all those months ago.

His hand covers mine. “No, I do. I’ve kept it in for so long. After she died, I thought she did it because she didn’t want to disappoint me. That maybe she knew, and didn’t want to tell me. That maybe she thought I’d leave her.”

“It’s not your fault,” I cry, pressing a kiss to his spine. So much of what’s happened over the last week makes sense now. He wasn’t running from me; he was running from the memories.

“Do you believe in God?” he asks out of the blue.

“Yes. He’s given me more than I think I can handle a few times, but I’ve always gotten through with his help.”

“I used to, but after everything that happened with Aly, I couldn’t. Why did he let her get to that point? Why would he let an innocent baby die in the process? Why didn’t he give me a reason to stay that night?”

“She was sick, Blake. She may not be here anymore, and there may be a baby you never got to meet, but God made them angels. They’re watching over you, and they’d want you to be happy. I know she’d want you to be happy.”

His whole body shakes. I loosen my grip and move around to face him. I thought my heart broke when Derek ended our relationship. I thought it shattered when Blake left on Christmas Day. Those were merely cracks compared to what I’m feeling now staring up at Blake. I’ve never seen a person look so defeated—the wet lines down his cheeks, the way his shoulders curl over his chest, clenched jaw, skin bunched around his eyes in a pained stare.

“She left a note.” His voice shakes.

My hands move up and down his arms, trying to comfort him, but I can’t take my eyes from his face. No matter how much it hurts, I can’t.

“She said she thought I’d be better off without her. She said I’d be able to move on with my life without having to worry about her. She said she loved me … that she’d always love me.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Maybe she just didn’t know how much I loved her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for her.”

Holding his face in my hands, I force him to look at me. “That tells me she knew you loved her so much you’d never give up on her. She was tired, Blake, and she didn’t want you to live that way. You were never going to give up on her.”

I swipe my thumbs under his eyes, trying to wipe some of the tears away.

“She was pregnant in the picture I painted of her,” he says after a couple minutes pass. “She was going to be a mom and didn’t even know it.”

“You’ll have that—the painting and the memory.”

He nods against my palms. “I’m starting to believe in God again.”

“Yeah?”

His eyes find mine for the first time since we’ve been out here. “I didn’t want to fall in love with you, but you changed that because … because you’re you. I never wanted to come back after I left, but you were all I could think about no matter how much I tried not to. You’re stuck in me, or I’m stuck in you. Fate didn’t put us in that apartment together; I think God did. He handed me what I needed when he gave me you.”

I stand on my tiptoes, kissing his salty lips. “You’re my super glue, too, Blake. Until I met you, I was falling apart. Our love isn’t easy. We’ve had to fight for it, but it makes us stronger.”

“The night you told me you were pregnant, I left because it brought back too many memories. I needed some time to sort out my feelings, but I want this baby with you. I do, Lila.”

Everything makes sense now. He’s not running from me. He runs from his memories … or to them. I guess it depends how you look at it.

His hands circle my neck, his thumbs running along my jawline. “And when I walked out of the room today, it wasn’t about you either. I felt like I was losing it. It was selfish, and I’m sorry.”