Page 44 of Pieces

Hudson exhales sharply. “Shit.”

“That about sums it up,” I mutter, looking anywhere but at him. The air feels too heavy, and I suddenly want to be anywhere but here. “I need to go back to my dorm.”

“Daphne, wait,” he rushes out, taking a step toward me. “Can I… Can I come with you? Just to talk?”

I hesitate, nerves barreling through me as I look up at him. His brow pinches as he holds my gaze, those gold flecks swirling with green drawing me in. I want to say no, to tell him this isn’t his problem. But it is, and deep down, I know I can’t avoid this conversation forever. May as well get it over with now.

“Fine,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “But just to talk.”

“Just to talk,” Hudson agrees, his voice steady but his eyes still full of uncertainty.

I did not see my night going this way.

Chapter twenty

Hudson

Ifollowherbackto her dorm, walking behind her, keeping my eyes glued to the floor, because every time I look at her, I want to hug her. Especially when she cries, which she’s done twice tonight in the space of a few minutes. And I get the impression that she doesn’t want a hug from me. So, I keep my distance for now.

When we reach her dorm, she swipes her keycard and walks up the stairs to room 204. I make a mental note of it. I’m not being caught out with not knowing where she is again. Not now, since… God, I can’t even think it yet. I need to hear her say it again.

Once we’re inside, I notice how quiet it is, that there’s no roommate clutter, no extra bed crammed into the space. Just her things neatly arranged, everything has a place, not a sock on the floor or a mug on the desk. She must’ve lucked out, since not many students get single rooms. The space is full of pink accents, a few framed pictures on the wall, and a folded blanket at the end of her bed. Minimalist, but warm. Just…pretty, like she is.

I feel completely out of place. Big, awkward, and too aware of the heaviness in my chest. Too aware of things we need to talk about but haven’t yet.

Daphne moves to the edge of her bed, pulling the sleeves of her pink oversized sweater down to cover her hands. She doesn’t look at me, so I position myself on the chair at her desk, and wonder if she regrets letting me in. Maybe I should’ve stayed outside. Maybe I should’ve let her deal with this how she wanted instead of begging her to talk to me. No, that’s crap, I need to be here. We need to talk. I just wish I knew what I needed to say first. I probably shouldn’t start with: “Sorry for ignoring you, after I found out who you were, but now I’m here to help you raise a kid”? God, that sounds terrible. She doesn’t deserve terrible. She deserves so much more. And I’m fucking clueless. I remember the way she’d looked at me that night, like I was more. And now I’ve screwed it all up. I let her deal with this alone, and I hate myself a little bit for it.

“So…” she laughs, but it’s brittle, not the same laugh I heard the night we met. But she doesn’t say anything else, and neither do I. Any and all ability to talk has suddenly disappeared, like my brain just clocked out for the day.Great timing, Hudson. You’ve been speaking in full sentences for most of your life, but now? Now, you forget how words work? Amazing, love your work.

I know I can’t dodge this. I don’twantto dodge it. I need to speak, I need her to speak, to hear her say it out loud. “Daphne,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I need you to say it. Please.”

She looks down at her covered hands. Then she exhales, her shoulders slumping as the fight drains out of her. “I’m pregnant,” she says, the words barely audible. “And it’s yours.”

The world tilts again, the reality of it crashing over me for the second time tonight. It’s like my brain is buffering, my ears ringing. I sit back, the chair creaking under my weight. My hands fall to my sides, and for a moment, I’m pretty sure I forget how to function. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She’s still looking at me, waiting for me to say something, but my brain’s stuck on a loop, playing her words over and over.I’m pregnant. It’s yours. I’m pregnant. It’s yours.

I take a slow breath, my lungs burning with the stuttered inhale. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she says, tilting her head.

I stand, needing to move my body. “I mean, notokay, okay, but yeah, okay, but not...” Shit, am I rambling? I’m not sure how to stop. It’s not every day the girl of your dreams tells you she’s pregnant with your baby. “Are you…sure?” My voice cracks like I’ve been screaming all day.

Her hands grip her sweater tightly as she nods. “I took two tests. And I’m going to the doctor tomorrow to confirm it, but…yeah. I’m sure.”

I run a hand down my face, dragging it over my mouth like I can physically force myself to process this. My chest feels like it’s caving in.Pregnant. Mine. Pregnant. Mine.The words don’t make sense. How the hell did this happen? We were careful. I thought we were careful.

“Say something,” she whispers.

I look up at her, and the sight of her sitting there, small and scared and braver than I could ever be, hits me like another punch to the gut. She’s been carrying this alone, and I’ve been…what? Sitting in scrapbook club, pretending my life is normal?

“I…” My throat closes up again, and I shake my head. “Shit, Daph. I don’t even know what to say.”

Her face crumples, and she looks away, blinking hard. “It’s fine,” she says, but the crack in her voice gives her away. “I didn’t expect anything from you. I just thought you deserved to know.”

I nod, but I feel that cold sweat take over, spreading down my spine.

Her brow knits as she studies me closely. “Are you gonna pass out?”

“Probably,” I admit, grabbing her desk chair and spinning it around so I can collapse into something solid. The room spins a little as I lower my head into my hands, trying to breathe through the panic pressing into my chest. She’s pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. “We used protection,” I mutter to myself.

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