Page 209 of Josephine and Clay

“And now you can sit with fries.”

“That argument’s unfortunately compelling.”

Boone watches me quietly while the girls sort through food containers.

Then he jerks his head toward the walkway outside.

You good?

Classic Boone. Other people get speeches. Boone's capable of conducting an entire conversation with one eyebrow.

I follow him out onto the motel walkway.

Heat slams into me immediately, dry Idaho summer air baking the parking lot while semis rumble along the highway beyond the motel sign.

Boone leans against the railing. “So?”

I stare out across the lot for a second before answering. “She’s pregnant.”

His brows lift slightly. “Yeah, Rose pieced that together on the way here.”

I glance over at him. “Twins.”

That actually gets him. His eyes widen. “Hell.”

“Exactly.”

A grin tugs briefly at his mouth before fading again. “You alright?”

The question catches me off guard.

Because for the first time in weeks, maybe months, I actually know the answer.

“No,” I admit honestly. “I mean, I missed a lot, and I’m sad about that. But I do understand that I made it hard for Josie. My mood was… unbearable,” I swallow a thick ball of emotion lodged in my throat. “But I want to be better. I want to be there from here on out.”

Boone studies me quietly. “What’re you gonna do?”

I look back through the motel window where Josie sits beside Rose, holding a carton of fries while listening to her talk. Her hand rests absently over her stomach.

“I’m coming home.”

Boone goes still for half a second. “You mean for a while?” he asks carefully.

I shake my head once. “No. I mean I’m done running.”

Boone exhales slowly and looks away toward the highway. I know him well enough to catch the emotion hidden underneath it. Relief.

He glances sideways at me again. “You sure?”

I think about Dad, about all the years I spent convincing myself I’d inherited every bad part of him and none of the good.

Then I think about Josie alone, carrying babies I didn’t even know existed yet.

Fear still claws hard at my chest.

But underneath it sits another feeling.

Choice.