"Not really what I meant," Faye replied, and although her voice was soft, the evenness of her gaze was something else entirely, folded over steel and shaking with all the movement of a girl digging her heels stubbornly into the dirt. Were she only a few years younger, she could treat the situation with all the petulance that Faye sometimes wanted to. Because she wasn't prepared for any of this— to be pregnant with a child, to be keeping the child, to be somewhat involved in raising a teenager.

She never asked for any of it. But it felt like she was bearing a heavy burden for all of it. Dean helped where he could, and he was bound to pull more than his share once the baby was born. Edward, however— that was a problem all Faye's own.

"Why'd you leave?"