It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be different from my Da.

I was supposed to finish school, go to university. I had plans—dreams, even. A future that was supposed to look nothing like his.

And yet… here I am. Another generation of Lynchs screwing it all up before it even begins. Another seventeen-year-old who couldn’t keep his head straight. Great, ain’t it? Just bloody great. We really kept the family tradition alive.

I didn’t even want to imagine what Ma and Da were gonna say. God, I could barely think straight. My head was spinning, my chest tight—fear and anger all tangled up inside me. Anger at myself. Never at her.

She sat at the edge of her bed, shoulders hunched, face hidden behind trembling hands. She hadn’t looked at me since she told me. Just stared at the floor like maybe if she focused hard enough, it’d open up and swallow her whole.

And honestly? Same. If I wasn’t too busy freaking the hell out, I’d be wishing for the same thing.

Seventeen. Fucking seventeen.

We aren’t even adults yet. How’s a couple of scared kids supposed to raise another kid?

My parents always warned me—lectured me about it every damn week. “Don’t make the same mistakes we did.” “Be smarter, son. You’ve got a chance to get out.” And here I am, living their cautionary tale all over again. Another disappointment.

I crouched down in front of her, reaching out with shaking hands. Her wrists felt small and cold in my palms, and I brought them to my face, pressing my lips against her knuckles.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. “It’s gonna be okay, yeah?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just sniffed, eyes still locked on the carpet. Then, slowly—hesitantly—she lifted her head.

Her eyes met mine, red-rimmed and wet, and even like that—God, even now—she looked like an angel. Broken, terrified, but still her.

“How?” she asked, voice cracking. “How’s it gonna be okay, AJ? We’re kids. My mum’s gonna kill me. Yours probably will too.”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I don’t. But I swear to you, I’ll be here. We’ll figure it out. Together, yeah?”

She let out a weak laugh—half a sob, really. “Together,” she repeated, like she didn’t quite believe it yet.

And I didn’t blame her.

Because the truth was, I didn’t have a damn clue what came next. All I knew was this: you don’t walk away from the people you love. Not when they need you. Not now. Not ever.

So, yeah. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But it is. And I’ll be here—for her, for the kid, for whatever comes next.

Even if it kills me trying.