I was riding home with my dad after our trip to Darlene's office. My dad pressed the button to turn on the radio to break the silence, but I turned it right off.

"Oh, would you like to listen to your own music instead?" he asked.

"No," I said.

He sighed. "I know it's hard, but remember not to stress. The babies can feel all that."

"I know. I'm not stupid." I turned away and looked out the window at the mountains. "I hate this whole thing. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I don't want to go up on the stand."

"I know. Darlene said you don't have to, remember?"

"Yeah, but she also said that we'll have a much better chance at getting a guilty verdict if I do. So now I don't know what to do. This whole thing is gonna suck anyway. I may as well go up there and just deal with it."

"I'm sorry, Kimber. What can I do to make this better?" he asked.

"You can help me go back in time and discover the truth about Christian before it was too late and I got into this mess," I said, looking down at my baby bump. "I don't regret my babies. I just regret the way they're coming into this world."

"They way they came into being and the story behind it isn't great, but they have everything they need. They have you, me, your mum, your sisters, your friends—and that's just here. Think about all the gifts they'll get from Ireland."

"I know, but they don't have a father, though."

"Well...sure, but I wasn't there for you and your sisters in the beginning and you all turned out alright."

"Did I? Did I turn out alright, Dad? I lost all my hair when I was ten and when I was fifteen I started sleeping around with a guy I barely knew. I fell for all his stupid lies, and now I'm pregnant at sixteen with twins. Their father is facing possibly ten years in jail and because I got pregnant I got expelled from my catholic school! I'm a real success, aren't I?" I said, tears streaming down my face.

"That was then. This is now. I'm not who I was when you were little, and you know that. And I never want to hear you blame yourself for what happened. You're a young girl. You were lied to and manipulated by a bad guy who was targeting young girls. None of this is your fault."

"I feel like it is. I just wish I could go back and change it. I want to go back to my old life, before I was pregnant. When I was a normal teenager, I still had Rachel and all my other friends. Everything's different now and there's nothing I can do about it!"

"I know. I know, love. Just take it a day at a time. I know I was a bad dad to you and your sisters, and I wasn't there, but I'm here for you now. Just take it a day at a time, like you've been doing. Enjoy the summer with your friends. It'll be okay."

I shook my head. "You don't know that. Eventually he'll want to see his kids."

"Like Darlene said, if he's convicted he won't be able to live with a minor," he said, right as the car pulled up the hill. "Let's do something to take your mind off this. Do you want to go back to Finnigans for some more chicken wings?"

"I want to lay on my bed and cry for a while," I said.

"Hey, don't use that kind of talk. You've been crying all day. Let's do something a little more fun. How about we get a pizza and play a video game?"

"That...sounds okay."

I went inside, changed into some comfy clothes, and sat down on the couch with my feet up. I really did need to rest. Yesterday's carnival was crazy and any time I talked about my trauma it put me into a stress overload. Now that I was laying down, things felt much more grounded. My dad gave me a glass of water.

As I was getting bigger and rounder, I noticed this morning that I was feeling tiny flutters. I'd be sixteen weeks in just a few days. I looked it up, and it seemed like it was a little too early for me to be feeling any movements, but after reading some forums, it seemed like that was what it was. I rubbed my belly. I love you two so much. You have no idea.

"Okay, pizza, wings, and garlic knots will be here in a little less than an hour," my dad said, sitting in the armchair next to the couch.

"Great. I'm actually starving," I said.

"Can I tell you something?" my dad asked.

"What?"

"I want you to know that I'm so proud of you. You're the strongest, bravest person I know. Your mum and I fight sometimes, but she raised you right. It takes a lot of courage to do what you did. When I was your age, honestly I don't know if I could've told my parents what you told us. You're amazing, Kimber. I don't want you to believe for a single second that you're not."

I smiled. "Thanks, Dad. That's actually really helpful."

"I'm glad." He picked up the controller from the coffee table. "How about we play the racing game?"

"That sounds good," I said, picking up the other controller. "I just need you to put the game into the console."

"Oh. Right."

He got up and put the game into the Switch, then turned on the TV. We picked out some cars and our characters, then a track that looked interesting. I learned that we were both absolutely pathetic at Mario Kart, but it was okay. We were trying our best. It felt like it was all we could do: just try.