Harrison

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It's been two terrible days since my world cracked apart. Two days spent with my baby girl, begging the universe to let me keep her. Two days avoiding eye contact with Brooklyn, because I still can't process what any of this means. And now, in just two more days, everything could be different.

Now I'm standing outside Brooklyn's bedroom, pleading with myself to talk this through with her.

I press my head against her door.

"Brooklyn," I raise my hand and knock once. It's the middle of the night, but it's been days since I've slept more than an hour straight. I'm angry, devastated; it's hard to remember a time I've felt so completely out of control of my life.

I raise my hand to knock again, but her door cracks open and I back away. My heart is pounding. Now that I'm actually in front of her, I don't know what to say. The light is dim, but I can tell she was awake; her eyes are wet.

I'm mad as hell at her, but the end result is still the same; Brooklyn carried my child...our child...for 9 months.

"We gotta talk, Brook," I start. I feel like I might throw up, but I force myself to stick with it.

She nods and pulls her door open, inviting me inside as she sits at the end of her bed and falls backward onto a pile of blankets. I step inside slowly and close the door, my stomach swamped with anger and sadness as I walk toward her.

Her eyes are closed, but I can see the streaks of tears sliding down her cheeks. She doesn't even bother to wipe them away as I sit down beside her and fall backwards, too.

"I swear I didn't mean to fuck up your life, Harry," she manages, but her voice cracks and it hits me harder than I thought it still could.

I rest my head on my folded hands behind me and stare up at the ceiling because it's a hell of a lot easier than continuing to look at Brooklyn, especially now that she's turned toward me.

"I've made a lot of mistakes. I have more regrets than anyone I know," she pauses. "But if I could have one do over for any of it, I'd use it on you,"

My heart is pounding. I can't find my words. I can't think straight, so I just try to sit and listen so I don't say something I regret.

"I would tell you the second I started questioning. I wouldn't let you fall in love with me,"

"Stop," I say. "There aren't do-overs. It can't help now," I say.

I'm being short and a jerk, but this is all too much.

"I promise I didn't do it on purpose. I swear on my life I didn't know,"

"You had no clue, but you asked for a DNA test and got me to sign the paperwork without knowing. You didn't even give me a chance to know. You hid everything for me. How do you know I wouldn't have wanted to know, too?" I remind her. "Your story sounds like bullshit to me, Brooklyn,"

"No," she says quickly. "When I met you, I had no idea. And a little later, when I met that lost little girl wandering around the stadium, I didn't know she was yours and I swear to god I didn't know she was mine. The birthmark," she swallows. "It was familiar, and for a second I thought maybe, but the odds of it were so slim, Harry, that I told myself I was losing my mind.

"And then you told me she was born on April 16th, and that Lindsey wasn't her biological Mom, and all the pieces started fucking with my head and I had to know. I told you I had a baby when I was younger and gave her up! I wanted to tell you my worries so many times but it never felt like the right time," she manages. "That doesn't make it right. It's not an excuse at all and I don't expect you to forgive me," she pauses so long I turn my head to face her and finally see the tears in her eyes.

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