Page 66 of Pieces

“You’resureaboutthis?”I ask Hudson for the hundredth time tonight.

He swallows hard, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him steady. I know he’s scared; I can feel it. He’s doing this for me, for us, and I don’t think I’m ready to face how that really makes me feel.

I texted my mom last night after Hudson left, after I spent another hour crying to Liv on the phone too, asking if I could come home for dinner tonight to talk, and I’m pretty sure she took that as badly as she could. I’ve had a million missed calls again, all of which I’ve ignored. And my classes were a blur today too. I have no idea if Dad knows. I’m thinking not, because he would’ve already tracked me down.

“No,” he admits, his voice low and tight. “I’m absolutely terrified.”

“But you were all ‘it’s not ideal, but we have to do it’ confident back at my dorm.” My voice pitches higher in my attempt to mask my own nerves. “Where’s that guy? I need that guy back.”

He glances at me, one eyebrow lifting. “Relax, Daphne.”

“You relax,” I fire back. “You look like you’re gonna puke, and if you puke, then I’ll puke, because I’m prone to puking now, you know!”

My chest begins to heave with the force of the air leaving my lungs. Oh god, maybe I’ll puke in his car.

“Daph, please stop talking about puking,” he groans, closing his eyes for a brief second. “And let’s just get out of the car.”

I sink back into my seat, chewing on my lip as I stare at the warmly lit windows of my parents’ house. It looks so inviting from here, the familiar glow of the living room lamp. I’ve seen the outside of this house a thousand times before, but tonight, it feels different. Possibly because there’s a chance I’m going to ruin my mother’s petunias at the front of her house by puking all over them. Oh god, I really need to stop.

“I’m not ready,” I whisper, my voice so quiet it barely makes it past my lips.

Hudson’s face softens as he looks at me. He reaches over, taking my hand in his and squeezing. “Neither am I,” he admits. “But we’ll never be ready for this. We just have to do it.”

His hand feels solid and steady in mine, anchoring me to something other than my spiraling thoughts. I take a deep breath and try to focus on that instead of the fear swirling through my veins.

“Okay,” I say, though my voice shakes. “Let’s go.”

We step out of the car, and the crisp evening air hits my face, making me shiver. Without a word, he slips his hand into mine as we walk up the familiar path to the front door. My fingers are trembling, and I know he can feel it, but he doesn’t say anything. He just squeezes my hand for extra assurance.

At the door, I pause, my hand hovering over the doorknob. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

“You want me to knock?” Hudson asks quietly.

I shake my head. “It’s my house. I can’t knock on my own house.” I hesitate, spinning to face Hudson. “I never normally knock. I grew up here. My room is still upstairs. It would be weird to knock.”

He gives me a look that’s half-amused, half-terrified. “Daph, you’re stalling.”

“I know,” I whisper, closing my eyes and taking one more deep breath.

Then, before I can overthink it again, the door swings open and my mom is standing there, her dish towel forgotten in her hand, eyes wide. “Daphne,” she says, her voice sharp, almost breathless. “Come inside, please.”

Hudson and I exchange a quick glance, and I already feel the pit in my stomach sinking deeper. My mom’s tone isn’t her usual cheerful welcome; it’s laced with something else. Concern. Maybe fear. Definitely fear.

As we step inside, the house I grew up in doesn’t feel right, but maybe that’s just nerves. My dad is leaning against the counter in the open-plan living space, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are fixed on Hudson with a look that makes me want to run back outside. Each breath I take is shallow, like my lungs can’t quite fill.

“Hudson?” he says. “What are you doing here?”

Hudson stiffens beside me, his fingers twitching against mine. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the floor for the briefest moment before flicking back to my dad. But then he straightens his shoulders, his jaw tightening.

“I’m here with Daphne,” he says simply. “We came to talk to you and Mrs. James. Together.”

My dad’s eyes flick back to me, his eyebrows drawing in. “Together,” he repeats, the word heavy with meaning. His gaze swings back to Hudson, more intense now, and his lips press into a thin line. “You’re dating my daughter?”

“Dad, we need to talk. Can we sit?” I interrupt before Hudson says anything else, or my dad lunges for him. “Mom—” I start, but now she cuts me off.

“Why do you need a referral for an OB-GYN and an ultrasound, Daphne?” she demands, her voice unsteady. “What’s going on?” When her eyes dart to Hudson, I can see the questions building behind them. “Is this about the two of you?”

I swallow hard as my fingers tighten around Hudson’s. “We were going to tell you,” I say softly. “I just… I didn’t know how. I wanted to wait until we had it all figured out.”

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