Page 66 of Shots Fired

“Wait, no.” Her warm palm wraps around my shirtsleeve, sending a shot of comfort through my veins.

I turn back to my girl, reaching out to wipe a second tear with my thumb. “I need you to talk to me, because I’m around ten seconds away from committing a felony.”

Her head shakes, followed by her shoulders, and I slide my chair back. Next, I wrap an arm around her waist, asking her to straddle me.

“Come here and tell me what’s going on. No one can see us through my tinted windows.”

On a final sniffle, she clears her throat, trying to get herself in check.

As she climbs into my lap, my fingers find the end of her braid, playing with her soft hair.

“I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you a million more times: you don’t need to hide your feelings from me, Darcy. It’s an honor to witness every part of you, even if I hate seeing you this way.”

A wry smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, and it alleviates the pain tearing through me on her behalf, just for a moment. I’ve seen Darcy deflated before, but never like this. She’s always been the girl lighting up a room, pulling grins and laughter from everyone else.

She exhales softly. “I don’t even know where to begin.” She rubs at her temple. “I’m sorry. I have the worst headache.”

“Are you sick again? Baby, this can’t be normal.”

She shakes her head again. “No, no. Well, not exactly.”

Instantly, my hands frame her face, and I can’t hide the panic as it rises, acidity burning my throat. “Darcy, what the fuck?!”

Her watery eyes soften in response as she senses my distress, and she covers my hands with hers.

My shoulders drop, and I rest my forehead against her sternum. The rhythmic beat of her heart calms my erratic pulse. Even though my real feelings are on display, I’m powerless to hide them as worry races through me, along with the foreign feeling of rejection.

She’s going to tell me that she can’t hook up anymore.

Darcy shudders out a breath. “Archer … I …”

I lift my gaze to look up at her as she hovers over me. This girl is effortless, yet the hold she has on me is vise strong.

“If you aren’t sick, then are you trying to tell me you want to stop?” I whisper. “Do you want this to be over?” I never thought words could taste so rancid.

She drops her hands, twisting them in her lap. I keep mine on either side of her face. Waiting, hoping, praying.

“Archer.” She tries to speak again, and suddenly, I’m not so sure this is about me and her or our arrangement.

The knot forming in my stomach contorts further.

“I’m …” The tears start to flow more freely down her cheeks. “I need you to know I haven’t told a soul about this, and I wasn’t planning to tell you tonight. But since I can’t seem to control my emotions”—she puffs out a disbelieving breath—“or my hormones …” She chews on the inside of her cheek, brows creased together as she examines my face for a beat.

“I’m pregnant, Archer.”

The silence surrounding us is deafening.

Darcy’s last two words play on repeat in my brain.“I’m pregnant.”

I drop my eyes to her flat stomach. “Y-you’re …”

She nods, taking my hand in one of hers. Pulling it into her lap, she interlaces our fingers. “I’m just over four weeks pregnant.”

I do the math. I know zero about gestational periods, but that timeline stacks up … to be mine.

Darcy cocks her head to one side, studying me. “Why are you smiling?”

I roll my lips together. “I didn’t even realize I was,” I say, reaching up and brushing my mouth over her tear-soaked lips. “But I guess my subconscious tracks because, wow. Incredible. Tell me you’re havingmybaby. Say the words and make my fucking life.”