Page 146 of Deacon

Her lips part before the tip of her tongue wets them. Her eyes are bright for the first time in a long while.

“All my life, I thought this wasn’t what I wanted,” she whispers. “But now… I think that I wanted a family…just not the kind I had growing up. And you…you’re not like that. And I…want you. I want to have a baby with you.”

My heart stops. The world slips away.

Her lower lip trembles. “I’m trusting you,” she whispers. “Please, please don’t break my heart.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” I say, the words tumbling out. “You can trust me. I swear, I won’t hurt you or let you down.”

A hesitant smile tries to shine through her tears. “Like…what kind of love me?”

“Like can’t live without you kind of I love you.”

She doesn’t say it back. She falls apart instead. Her body shakes with sobs, so hard that I pull her against my chest and they soak my shirt. She doesn’t need to say the words until she's ready.

She’s scared of being hopeful, tired of being scared.

I let her cry it out. When she lifts her head, I wipe her tears. It means a lot that she lets me see her vulnerable.

“I’m going to put you to bed,” I say. “You’ll stay there and rest while I get a test.”

She nods, wiping her nose. I pick her up, holding her close, and carry her down to our room. She lets me undress her and work her slip over her head. Then, she snuggles onto her side. I smooth back her hair.

“Thank you for not being mad,” she whispers.

I crouch down. “If you’re pregnant, I’ll be the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Her eyes are sleepy. “Really?”

I nod, stroking her cheek. “This is what I’ve been waiting on, sweetheart. You, me, and a little guy.”

“Or girl.” Her lips curve.

“I’ll take whatever comes.”

Her eyelids flicker. I press a kiss to her temple and lock up all the doors and windows before leaving the truck. Before I go, I send Andy a text to let him know to keep an eye on the house.

Then, knuckles white on the steering wheel, I drive to the gas station. If she’s not pregnant, I want to keep trying. I’ve wanted a family for a while now. But that’s changed. I don’t want just any family—I need Freya to be my wife. I want to have babies with her, to raise our kids on Ryder Ranch together.

I want to hold her hand when I’m gray and there’s no more tread on my tires.

My heart has never gone so hard just buying something from the gas station. I put it on the counter. The clerk, who’s worked there for ten years, gives me a look, but she doesn’t say anything as she rings up the test.

I put it in my pocket, walk across the muddy parking lot, and swing into the truck. The road is crowded, which is strange for this time of day. I’m halfway down the bypass when I realize there’s a truck stalled out in one of the intersections and police cars parked around it. I stare at it for a minute, thinking I recognize the person standing by the truck, but it’s hard to see what’s going on.

I grit my teeth, the impatience killing me.

Of course, today of all days, there has to be a traffic jam. I do a U-turn and go back the way I came, my foot sinking down on the gas pedal. There’s a state route that takes a little longer, but it’s usually pretty clear.

I’m distracted. My thumb hits the wheel.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The gray trees fly by. My truck bounces over the rough concrete. If she’s pregnant, she’ll be starting to show by springtime. I could be a father by the summer.

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