Page 165 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

Wayne.

The truck door shuts. Boots on gravel. The front door opens, and he steps inside, keys in hand. His eyes find me immediately.

He takes in my face in one quick scan.

“You okay?” he asks.

It’s careful. Measured. Like he already knows the answer.

“I need to talk to you,” I say.

He nods once and sets his keys on the counter. “Alright.”

I grip the edge of the counter because my hands are shaking again.

“I lied to you this morning,” I blurt out.

His jaw tightens slightly. “About what?”

“About being fine.” I suck in a sharp breath. “I wasn’t. I just… I needed a minute. I needed space to figure out how I felt before I said anything. I wasn’t trying to hide something from you. I swear.”

He watches me steadily. “What happened at the doctor's?”

“They weren’t just testing for dehydration,” I say quietly.

His eyes narrow just a fraction. “For what then?”

My mouth goes dry.

Say it.

Just say it.

“They ran bloodwork.”

“And?”

My pulse roars in my ears. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Wayne doesn’t move.

He doesn’t blink.

He just stands there, absorbing it.

Then slowly, like his legs need the support, he leans back against the counter.

“Okay,” he says.

It’s hollow.

“I’m about three weeks,” I add, because apparently my brain wants to make sure we hit every landmine. “Which means…”

He closes his eyes briefly.

“It could be mine,” he says evenly.