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Trying not to let him see how much I loved hearing that.

We both went quiet after that, the air between us thicker now, heavier.

Finally, he spoke again, voice rough and careful.

“You think you might be pregnant?”

The question hung there.

I swallowed hard.

Shrugged.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m late… but I’m always late.”

He nodded once, slow, like he was already making plans no matter what the answer was.

“If you are,” he said, voice firm, “we do the same thing we doing now. Figure it out.

Ain’t no running. Ain’t no pretending. We make it work—despite anything or anyone.”

My throat burned, and I had to blink fast to keep the tears back.

I leaned down, kissed him slow, grinding my hips just enough to feel his dick waking up.

He groaned low in his chest, grabbing my ass in both hands, rolling his hips up into me.

I smiled against his mouth—then pulled back fast, laughing.

“I’m hungry,” I said, popping up off him.

He lay there for a second, staring at me like he was trying to decide if he should drag me back down and finish what we started or not. He threw an arm over his eyes and let out a deep, suffering groan.

“You are evil for that, pretty,” he muttered. “But most pretty things are evil.”

I laughed harder, turning toward the door. “You’re being dramatic.”

Before I could get two steps away, he was up.

He moved fast.

He caught me around the waist, lifted me straight off the ground like I didn’t weigh a thing, and carried me toward the kitchen.

“Sam!” I squealed, laughing, hitting his shoulder.

“You play too damn much,” he grumbled, but he was smiling.

We didn’t talk about anything solid that night. Just made promises we should have talked about more. I knew and he knew our expectation were too high and that this probably wouldn’t end well, but we pretended. And even pretending, somehow felt more real than anything I ever made with Mark.

Chapter 23- Mark

I banged on Janet’s front door hard enough to wake the dead.

Three days.

Three goddamn days.

Zane hadn't been home since Monday morning. She said she was going to meet Sam at some job site, and I hadn’t heard from her since. No texts. No calls. No passive-aggressive notes on the fridge. Nothing. And now, her phone was off.