Page 172 of Josephine and Clay

Josie: I wanted to tell him about the babies today. I really did. But everything felt too raw and emotional, and I couldn’t tell whether he was talking about leaving because it’s what he truly wants or because he’s scared of staying.

Three dots appear almost immediately.

Tessa: Oh, honey.

Josie: I’m not saying I’ll never tell him. I just… I need time to think. And I need him in a better place before I drop something this life-changing on him. He’s already going through so much.

The typing bubble disappears.

Then returns.

Tessa: I understand that more than you think I do.

A second later:

Tessa: But you shouldn’t carry this alone either.

My throat tightens unexpectedly.

Josie: I know.

Tessa: Dinner this week. No arguments. And I’ll make enough food to emotionally manipulate you into eating.

Despite everything, a laugh slips out of me.

Josie: That feels unethical.

Tessa: Probably. See you Thursday.

I lean back against the shelves, one hand over my stomach, phone held tight in the other.

This isn't the plan I wanted.

It's not clean. Not simple or painless.

But it's a plan.

And for today, that has to be enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Clay

AUGUST 1ST

By midnight, the ranch is finally quiet.

Quiet and peaceful aren’t the same thing.

Quiet just means nobody’s saying what they’re thinking out loud. Peaceful means you can breathe, and I haven’t done much of that in weeks.

I sit on the edge of my bed with a duffel open at my feet, clothes shoved inside without much care. Jeans. Shirts. Socks. Belt. A pair of boots I probably won’t be able to wear right for a while, but I pack them anyway because leaving without boots feels wrong.

Basically admitting I’m not myself.

My bad leg throbs beneath the brace. It’s not healed enough. I know that. Doctor knows that. Hell, Rusty probably knows that, and he once tried to fight a garden hose for twenty minutes.

Doesn’t matter.