A teen pregnancy was hard. But it was even harder when you and the father, the boy you loved, decided to go your separate ways.

Joey Lynch had been the one to end it, a few months after you gave birth. Not because he’d stopped loving you, or because he didn’t want to be a dad. But because he didn’t think he was enough. Even clean, even sober, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you and your son deserved someone better.

It shattered your heart. You told him again and again that he was enough, that he always had been. But Joey didn’t believe it. So, you learned to co-parent.

One week, AJ stayed with you and your parents. The next, with Joey and the Kavanaghs. The arrangement worked—texts filled with talk of diapers, formula, and photos of AJ’s gummy smile. There was no bad blood, no anger. Just love, lingering and quiet, waiting for Joey to forgive himself.

And now, you stood in the Kavanaghs’ backyard, surrounded by friends and family, celebrating AJ’s first birthday. Joey was holding your son, smiling in that soft, lopsided way that still made your heart ache.

“Earth to Mommy,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “Ya didn’t hear shit I said, did ya?”

“Joey! Language!” you gasped.

“Relax, he’s heard worse,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight a smile as you stood beside him, watching AJ giggle in his arms.

“You know,” you said quietly, “people keep telling me we’re really nailing this whole teenage co-parenting thing.”

Joey’s eyes softened, his voice low. “Yeah… I guess we are.”

And for a moment, it almost felt like nothing had ever broken between you.