The Bad Boys Baby

Chapter 15 - The Parents

 Isabelle P.O.V

We drove home from my appointment. Mostly quiet, I sat staring at my small bump. A little baby girl. I could imagine the blue eyes that sparkle like Ryder's, her blonde hair, and her tiny feet. The little outfits I could put her in. She wasn't a doll. Someone else has to raise her.

How are you? Ryder texted.

I left it as is, didn't bother opening it. I wasn't mad. But I couldn't bare talk to him at the moment. I told him I didn't want to know and now that I do, I feel more conflicted than ever. I guess allowing a person I've never met to leave my life sounded more simple. She is apart of me and that is hard to give a piece of yourself to someone. To completely trust someone with your offspring.

I immediately head straight for my bedroom. Tears stream down my face. Thoughts flow through my mind. Keep her? Let her go?

Was it really better if I let her have better parents? Could Ryder and I really be parents?

What's wrong? He texted again.

I was in no mood to answer to him. I had cried. Decision making was always easy. I literally have my life mapped out, down to the college, the major, the place I'll live, the number of kids I want. Even giving the baby up was simple.

If you don't answer I'll show up at your door.

Underestimating Ryder's abilities, I turned my phone off. I'd say after my last fifteen sob-filled minutes, I heard his eagerness from right here in my bed. In actuality, it was him banging on the door. I couldn't speak, my throat nor my heart would allow it.

My footfalls barely audible, I take short strides to my door. "Why aren't you answering me? You alright? What's wrong?" Ryder places his hand on my cheek and investigates my red eyes. I don't think I've heard Ryder speak so much in my life. Yeah, we've had conversations but never this long of his one-sided worry.

I shrug. My response wasn't enough for him; he allowed his mouth to reiterate every generic question you ask someone when they are unwell. Unwilling to speak, I lay back and snuggle into the fetal position. His blood was boiling from my silence and his agitation was radiating throughout the room. The second he saw another tear fall from my face he fell quiet.

I shut my eyes forcing the flood to take an urgent stop. I hated feeling weak and vulnerable. I hated him seeing me that way.

"Please, tell me," he whispers, letting his chest hit my back and wrapping his arm around my waist letting his hand rest on my stomach. "Isabelle, I don't like seeing you hurt."

"It's a girl," I deadpan.

I couldn't think straight.

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"It's a girl. Our baby is a girl," I smile letting my held back tears have free rein of my face. "How do you expect me to let her go? I can't stop picturing her now. She looks every bit like you. Her perfect hair to the sliver of green in her blue eyes."

"I'd never ask you to let her go."

"B-but Ryder we can't do that to her. We can't do that to ourselves. I don't trust... myself."

"We could-," I cut him off. I can't let an iota of doubt change my decision.

"No, Ryder. We can't. I want to go to college, have a career, be married before this. I don't want to be the percentage of teen mothers that are broke and giving their all to a kid when I am a child. I want to be young and act a fool every once and awhile, but with you, it seems like I don't have a choice!" I rant. I wish my throat didn't allow for me to speak. As I replay the words I realize I blamed it all on him and I wasn't mad at him. I didn't mean a lick of it.