Page 145 of Deacon

I’m speechless for a second. She appears to be pushing, trying to get some kind of reaction from me. Gently, I lean in and brush her hair back, lifting her chin so she can’t turn away.

“Did Aiden scare you?” I ask.

“No,” she whispers.

“What’s wrong?”

Tears spill out in earnest. Quick as a flash, she wipes them away. I hold my hands out, palms up.

“Nothing,” she says, bunching her fists.

I bite back a sigh. “Do you know what you want?”

Her throat bobs. It’s several difficult minutes before she shakes her head. Another tear slips out. It’s gone in a second, wiped on her skirt.

“Are you willing to talk about it?” I press gently.

She shrugs. I can see how she’s at war with herself. Finally, she swallows hard, like she’s pushing back a sob.

“I’m just stressed out,” she sniffs.

“Why? Because of Aiden? He won’t come up here again, I promise.”

She shakes her head again. “Not really. I think that was just the last straw.”

I try to take her fingers in mine again, but she closes them. Her whole body shudders.

“I need a test,” she sobs. “I got up this morning, and I realized I’m late.”

The entire world goes quieter than a fresh snowfall. My brain absorbs what she’s saying, but slowly, the pieces click into place.

She might be pregnant.

I did this on purpose, but I think, deep down, I thought it wouldn’t work. Now, here I am, realizing for the first time that maybe it did. She could be carrying my baby. I could have a family with the woman I love more than anything.

Dazed, I pick up her stiff body and sink onto the chair, turning her to face me in my lap.

“Hey, you look at me, sweetheart,” I say.

I pry her face up. It’s swollen, and her blue eyes are so scared, it hurts my chest.

“I’ll go get a test from the gas station,” I say.

She stares at me for a second. Then, she sniffs. “You’re not…angry?”

My chest aches.

“No. Why would I be angry?” I say. “I’m the one who did it. Are you angry?”

She shakes her head. “No, just afraid. Aiden used to say if I got pregnant by somebody, he’d throw me out.”

My mind flips through a dozen images of all the violent things I’d like to do to Aiden. I want to go after him right now, drag him out of that truck and enact some vigilante justice. Instead, I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss the backs of her fingers.

“Aiden is not your problem anymore.”

“I know,” she whispers.

I brush her hair back, wiping her puffy face. “Is this what you want?”

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