Dear Alec,

I miss you. I miss your hugs. Your smile. Your laugh. I miss you tickling me when I’m sad, just to make me smile. I miss you leaving love notes in my locker. I miss you hiding and watching me open them. I miss pretending I didn’t know you were there.

We should be together, Alec. We belong together.

The way I ended things, I didn’t want it to happen. I didn’t mean for it to happen. All the wrong words came out. And when you pushed back, I didn’t know what to do. You fought for us, and I stayed silent. I was scared I was holding you back from your dreams, that I was getting in the way. I knew you wouldn’t break up with me for it, so I did what I thought you deserved—to have the world. And hockey will get you there. I believe in you so much. I always have, and I always will.

But you don’t need to chase them alone. And I’m so sorry for ending things. I didn’t stop loving you. I never will.

I love you more than a hockey player loves the ice. I love you more than I ever thought possible.

I can’t love without loving you. Please forgive me.

But that’s only one of the reasons I wrote this letter.

If there was a time for a pause, for the words to get stuck in my throat, it would be here.

Alec, I’m pregnant. Ten weeks.

You deserve to know that we’re having a baby. It’s too early to tell if it’s a boy or a girl, but either way, I’ll love him or her. And I know you will too.

I want us to be together. I want us to be a family.

But I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s up to you.

Call me, text me, FaceTime me, email me, snail-mail me—I don’t care.

I’m waiting.

I love you, always.

Laura

“Just one more, please!” I beg Jack as he poses in front of our porch with his brand-new backpack hanging off his shoulders.

He rolls his eyes. “Moooom!”

I hurry and snap a few more as he throws the cutest little tantrum. “Okay, okay. Let’s go. I don’t want you to be late for your first day.”

Char and Josh come out of the front door of our house right as I’m helping Jack into his car seat.

My chest is about to explode. I am so grateful for the two best friends in the world. And I am in such shock that my little boy is starting school.

And in that moment, I can’t help but think of Alec. Of all the firsts he has missed and will never get to see.

A part of me aches for the missing piece in Jack’s life. But at the end of the day, I sit up straight and smile. Because in my mind, I never had a

choice to walk away. The second I knew I was pregnant, I was all in.

I try my best to give Jack everything he needs. He never wants for food or clothes or a roof over his head. And I believe that I love him enough to fill the missing piece that is Alec.

As we pull into the school parking lot, the biggest lump forms in my throat. My little baby is starting school. I find the nearest parking spot and shove back the tears building in my eyes.

I get out of my side of the car, walking around to his side, and open his door, helping him out.

He adjusts his backpack on his shoulders and then reaches his little hand up to mine. “You ready?”

My heart clenches. Am I ready?

That’s my little Jack, always looking out for me.

We walk in silence into the school and follow the colored arrows on the ground to his classroom. Kindergarten class two is the blue arrows.

When we walk into his room, my chest tightens. I’m not ready for my little boy to grow up and be a kindergartener.

I look down to Jack, who’s taking in his surroundings, not looking fazed in the slightest.

A little boy across the room waves at him, and Jack smiles and waves back with the biggest smile on his face.

He turns to me and tugs my hand, pulling me down to my knees. “Mommy, it’ll be okay.”

The well of tears I’m holding back breaks, and a loose tear falls off my eyelashes and travels down my cheek.

Jack reaches out and wipes the tear away. Which only makes me want to cry more.

I pull him against me, hugging him tightly. “I love you, buddy.” And he replies with the line he always does, “Even in the rain?” I kiss the top of his head. “Even in the storm.”