Page 6 of Absolution

She blinks, startled, and I reach down, grab her hands, and pull her up.

“Twins?” I say, grinning. “We’re having twins?”

She laughs, nervous and breathless. “Yeah, and I have no idea how we’re gonna survive.”

I don’t answer with words. I wrap my arms around her and lift her right off the ground, spinning her once in our too-small living room.

Squealing, she protests. “Kyle!”

I set her down gently, but keep my hands on her waist. “We’ll handle it,” I say, forehead resting against hers. “I swear to God, we’ll handle it. Whatever it takes.”

Her eyes go glassy, but the fear’s gone. She leans into me, her whole body letting go like she finally believes me.

“We’ve got this,” I say, softer now, brushing her hair back. “Two, four, ten. Doesn’t matter. You’re not doing this alone.”

Jackie nods, tears spilling over, but she’s smiling. Big and real. I can tell they’re happy tears. Hell, my eyes are wet too. I don’t say it. I don’t need to.

Leaning down I kiss her, soft at first but she pulls me in harder. Kisses me like something cracked open inside her. Like relief and love and fear all let go at once. Her hands are already in my hair, gripping tight.

I hold her just as close. Not because she needs me, but because she chose me.

When we break apart, I press my forehead to hers.

“We’ll do it together,” I say. And I mean it. Every word. Not like my parents. Not someone else raising them while I work and she plans. Not her orbiting me. We’re building something different. Something better.

Together.

That’s what I believe. Truly. I do. Jackie and I… we click because we’re similar in the ways that matter. Stubborn. Smart. We takethings head-on. I hold onto that, until the morning of her six-week appointment.

We haven’t told anyone yet. It’s still ours, just ours. She hasn’t had morning sickness. No cravings. She’s tired, sure, but still going to class, still cracking jokes, still making late-night toast like nothing’s changed. I start thinking maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe it’ll be a breeze.

Then we get in that room. The tech hands her a paper drape and says she can undress from the waist down behind the curtain. Jackie nods, quietly disappearing for a minute. When she comes back, she’s in a gown, draped modestly across her thighs. She lies back again, cheeks flushed, but calm. The tech, maybe mid-twenties, friendly voice, pulls on gloves and gels up the wand.

Internal ultrasound, since it’s early. Standard at six weeks. I already looked that up.

I sit beside Jackie, and grip her hand. The tech inserts the probe, eyes on the screen. I watch too, pretending I have the slightest idea what I’m looking at.

The tech frowns. Not dramatic. Just a flicker in her expression. Her eyes narrow a little, lips press together. Then she says, “I’m just going to step out and grab the doctor.”

She leaves before either of us can ask anything. I turn to look at Jackie who’s already watching me, her mouth tight. Gut clenching, I squeeze her hand, we got this. She doesn’t say anything, just tightens her grip on my hand.

After a few minutes, the doctor comes in. It’s an older lady, wearing a white coat. The tech follows behind her, giving us a tight-lipped smile.

“Let’s take a look,” the doc says, without much preamble.

Picking up the probe, she adjusts the angle, and we all watch the screen. Her face doesn’t change much, but her voice is steady.

“Well… looks like we’ve got some excitement here.”

Jackie stiffens. I don’t breathe.

The doctor moves the wand slightly and freezes the screen.

“See here? You’ve got two gestational sacs,” she says. “That’s what we expected.”

She points again. “But inside each sac, we’re seeing two distinct heartbeats.”

Jackie blinks. “So… still twins?”

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