“No. I haven’t even figured out how to think about this yet.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “You don’t have to do everything at once.”
I lean my head back against the wall and stare up at the ceiling. “It was supposed to be one night,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“It wasn’t supposed to change anything.”
Her voice gentles. “Life doesn’t care much aboutsupposed to.”
A weak breath of laughter slips out of me. “No. It really doesn’t.”
After a moment, Joelle asks, “What do you want to do?”
The question is kind, but it still feels too big to handle. It’s taken a long time for me to figure out what’s happening to my body. The spotty periods I had during my pill break weren’t unusual. Now, I’m nine weeks into this. “I don’t know yet.”
“That’s all right. You don’t have to know today.”
“No,” I say quietly. “But do I have to tell them?”
Joelle doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her tone is careful. “As your friend, I should tell you that you don’t have to. This… What happens next is your choice. But Mason and Brookes are family, and they’re good men, so…”
“Don’t worry. I understand.” My chest tightens again, but beneath the fear, another shape begins to form. I straighten and draw in a deeper breath. “One step at a time,” I say.
“Exactly.”
I nod again, gripping the phone as I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
I look the same, but everything has changed.
And this time, there is no pretending it hasn’t.
Chapter 7
Brookes
Wade doesn’t waste time or gas unless there’s a good reason to justify both, so when his truck appears, I know he’s visiting with purpose. Dust rolls behind him in a long, pale cloud, and his tires spray gravel with urgency. Mason’s halfway across the porch with two mugs of coffee when he stops, his attention locking onto the truck before Wade shuts off the engine.
“What’s he doing here?”
I lean against the porch post, arms relaxed, watching Wade as he opens the truck door. “Whatever it is, he didn’t want to say it over the phone.”
Wade walks across the yard and comes up the steps without saying anything. His boots hit the wood, each step sharp and full of purpose.
“Mason. Brookes.”
Mason sets the mugs down on the rail. “What’s up?”
Wade doesn’t answer right away. He looks over the yard, the barn, and the pasture, like he’s weighing everything before he speaks. Our house sits low and wide on the land, worn but solid. It’s been built and rebuilt by people who cared more about keeping it standing than making it look nice. The porch is wide and cluttered with our things: boots, tools, a coil of rope Mason promised to put away yesterday. The remnants of our family linger inside even though the people have all left for one reason or another. The barn doors are open to the breeze, and horses graze beyond the fence, strong and beautiful. It isn’t as pretty as his house, but it’s home to us.
His hesitation tightens in my chest.
“Janey called Joelle last night,” he says at last.
Hearing her name takes me back two months. My focus sharpens as memories of our night together return, losing me for a moment in her smile, her voice, and the way she looked at me.
Mason straightens immediately. “Is she okay?”
