Page 91 of Heart of The Night

Jason stood up, his movements slow and hesitant. ‘I had no idea,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I swear, Cara, I didn’t know.’ He stepped closer, concern deepening the lines on his face. ‘What happened when you found out? What did Will say?’

I wiped away a renegade tear. ‘He said he’d take responsibility if the child is his, but he won’t get back with Francesca. He wants to be with me.’

Jason clenched his jaw, scanning my face. ‘And what about you? What are you going to do?’

My chest ached as I watched him. The weight of everything was crushing me. ‘I told him I need to think.’ I started toward my bedroom. Jason followed me, his footsteps echoing my own.

‘This isn’t some sick joke, right?’ he asked, his feverish tone making it sound as though he hoped it were just that. ‘Because I am really struggling to believe this.’

‘I wish it were,’ I replied, shaking my head. ‘You should ring him, Jason. He needs someone right now.’

‘And what about you?’ Jason said, his soft voice tinged with worry.

‘I’ve got lunch plans with my parents.’ I knelt, pulling out a bag from under my bed and dropping it on the mattress. ‘But I think I’ll stay the night.’ I felt his eyes on me as I walked over to my wardrobe, stuffing the bag haphazardly with clothes, my laptop, and my headphones. ‘Could you tell John and Daphné that I won’t be able to make dinner tonight after all? I’m really sorry.’

I glanced at him, seeing the panic, the sympathy, and the helplessness that swirled in his eyes – eyes that were painfully similar to his brother’s. William, heartbroken and sobbing… My face twisted as I tried to block out the image.

‘Of course,’ Jason said. ‘I’ll tell them.’

I zipped up my bag, the sound harsh in the silence. I felt like I was moving through a fog, every action mechanical, my mind numb. I turned to Jason, trying to muster a reassuring smile but failing miserably.

‘Thanks,’ I said, my voice wobbling. ‘I just… need to figure this out.’

He walked over and pulled me into his arms. ‘I’m so sorry, Cara. I can’t imagine what this must be like for you.’

I nodded against his chest, the tears spilling over as I squeezed him tightly. ‘I don’t know what to do, Jason,’ I croaked. ‘I don’t want to lose him, but…’

He tucked my head under his chin, his hands gently rubbing my back. I drew a long breath, taking in his soothing scent, grounding myself in the comfort of his embrace. We stayed like that for a few moments, holding each other tightly as I wept quietly. When I finally pulled back, the warmth of his hug lingered, but it wasn’t enough to stave off the chill of uncertainty that had settled deep in my heart.

‘I think being with my parents will help,’ I murmured, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands. ‘Maybe they can help me figure out what to do – what I really want.’

Jason cupped my face. ‘I’ll ring William, make sure he’s okay,’ he said, thumbs brushing my cheeks.

I gave him a broken smile, a sob escaping me. ‘Good.’

‘But I’m here if you need me, too,’ he said sombrely, staring intensely at me. ‘I’m here for you both.’

‘I know, Jase.’ I wrapped my hands around his wrists, squeezing them with gratitude. ‘But William needs you more right now. I have my parents, and I have Livy. I’ll be… okay.’

He swallowed, giving me a faint nod as he lowered his hands.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ I said, picking up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. ‘We can talk more then.’

‘Okay.’ His light-blue eyes roamed across my face, oozing compassion. ‘But until then, don’t hesitate to ring me if you need anything – anything at all.’

‘Thanks, Jase.’ With that, I headed for the front door, hoping the time with my parents would bring the clarity I so desperately needed.

§ § §

I sat at the kitchen table in my parents’ house, the familiar surroundings offering a fragile sense of comfort. The pale wooden table, the scent of freshly brewed tea, the gentle hum of the refrigerator – it was all strangely reassuring. Yet, the weight of my words hung heavy in the air, creating a tension that seemed to stifle the room.

Mum sat across from me, her hands wrapped around her favourite black mug, her brow furrowed in concern. Her hair, coloured brown to hide the streaks of silver, was pulled back into a loose bun, and her eyes, a royal blue, watched me intently.

Dad stood by the counter, staring at the floor with his arms crossed. His once-dark hair was now more salt than pepper, and his frame, though still broad, had softened with age. His deep-blue eyes, usually so full of warmth, were clouded with concern as he tried to get his mind around the situation.

‘So, William might be the father of her baby?’ Mum’s voice was soft, but the shock was evident. She exchanged a worried glance with Dad.

I nodded, my hands trembling slightly as I clutched my own mug. ‘Yeah. Francesca’s coming back for a paternity test next week.’

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