Chapter 2

Too Young for Forever

He was tall — a full foot taller than me — a 6’3” wall of muscle on the football field, the kind of boy every girl noticed. But when he looked at me, really looked at me, it felt like I was the only person in the world. He was a linebacker with an easy smile, a deep laugh, and arms that felt like home. When he hugged me, everything else faded — it was safety, warmth, and that dizzy kind of first love that makes you believe nothing could ever go wrong.

I was a junior, on the volleyball team and in weightlifting — strong, stubborn, competitive. He was a senior, my opposite in some ways but my match in spirit. We both liked to push ourselves — him on the field, me in the gym — and we understood the kind of drive it took to be noticed, to be good at something.

We came from a small town where everyone knew everyone, and where gossip traveled faster than the school buses. Somehow, between practices, hallway glances, and game nights, we found each other.Our love was simple then — movies, late-night drives, and whispered plans about the future. We’d cruise the backroads with the windows down, music up, headlights cutting through the dark, talking about everything and nothing. The world outside the truck didn’t exist in those moments — it was just us, laughing, dreaming, alive.

I went to away games on his bus — something that felt like a scandal back then. The football team teased him, but he didn’t care. He’d always save me a seat, throw me that sideways grin, and make me feel like I belonged exactly where I was.

One December, during a Toys for Tots drive, we were hauling donations when his truck gave out — and not just broke down, the motor fell out right there in the middle of the road. I thought he was going to die of embarrassment. We stood there staring at it like maybe if we looked long enough, it would fix itself. But it didn’t. So came the dreaded call — to his fire chief grandfather — for help.

The old man showed up shaking his head, half trying not to laugh, while we stood there looking like two kids caught red-handed by the universe. It was one of those moments thatfelt humiliating at the time but later became one of those stories that lived forever — proof of just how young and human we were.

A little while later came our trip to Disneyland. It was everything people say it is — magic. For those few days, it was like the world couldn’t touch us. We were two kids holding hands under fireworks, riding roller coasters, kissing in lines, and believing love could fix anything. For a while, it did feel like that.

Until it didn’t.

When I found out I was pregnant, everything changed. I can still remember the way my heart pounded when I told my parents. My dad went quiet — not angry, just thinking. Then he asked, in that steady voice of his, “Why didn’t you use condoms?”

“We did,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “You used one?”

It took me a second to realize what he’d heard. “No, Dad — we used some!”

For a split second, the tension broke — the absurdity of it hitus both. It was terrifying and hilarious all at once, and even he had to smirk before sighing and saying, “Well… let’s sit down and talk about it.”

That was my dad — calm in the storm, even when the storm was me.

My mother, of course, was immediately emotional. “I’m going to be a grandma!” she said through her tears, already picturing the baby’s face. But in true mom fashion, she drew a hard line right after the excitement: “Neither of you are dropping out of school. You will get your diplomas.”

So, we grew up overnight.

One day, we were just two teenagers watching movies and sneaking kisses behind the bleachers. The next, we were about to be parents.

He promised me forever, and I believed him — because why wouldn’t I? We were young, in love, and thought the world was ours to shape. He was still that 6’3” wall of warmth and safety. Until he wasn’t.

Looking back, I can still feel how it was — the laughter, the drives, the innocence wrapped up in all that hope. We thought love was enough. And maybe, for a while, it was. Because before everything went wrong, it really was beautiful.