Page 49 of Mended Fences

Or, Ihadbeen ready.

Until I saw the woman who owned every part of my heart and soul standing in front of me, pregnant. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Now, watching her silhouette in the dim light as she parked and climbed out of her SUV, one hand absently touching her belly? I didn’t know what to think. If the baby was mine, I’d missed everything. First ultrasound. First kicks. First...everything.

And if it wasn’t...

She stood just outside the garage, assessing me through the windshield of my truck. When my gaze finally caught hers, I burstinto action, cutting the engine and jumping out. She led me toward the back door of the house as the garage whirred shut behind us, and the silence felt like a living thing.

If the baby wasn’t mine—if it washis—did that bastard even know? Was he still in her life somehow? The thought of him anywhere near her made my hands curl into fists, made me taste copper in the back of my throat.

No.

Not after what he’d done to her. Not after everything she’d survived. She wouldn’t.

I climbed the steps to her back porch, noticing that the bottom one was a little wobbly. I made a mental note to fix it for her.

She reached into her bag to dig out her keys, and I took stock of the state of the house. She had exterior cameras installed on the back porch and the garage. I’d bet money there were some out front and inside as well. She wasn’t taking any chances after her summer from hell.

Elena’s key scraped in the lock. My hands itched to reach for her, to pull her close and demand answers. But I kept them shoved deep in my pockets instead.

The door swung open with a protesting creak. Elena flicked on the lights, illuminating a mostly empty kitchen. A few cardboard boxes were stacked against one wall, labeled in her scribbly doctor’s handwriting. The countertops were bare except for a coffee maker and a fruit bowl with two sad-looking apples.

“I haven’t had much time to unpack,” she said softly, setting her keys on the counter. “Between the hospital shifts and...” Her hand drifted to her belly again.

There it is. The elephant in the goddamn room.

“Elena,” I said as gently as I possibly could. “We need to talk about?—”

“Chase.” She turned to face me, those dark eyes piercing straight through to my soul. “I know we do. But first, I want to show you something.”

Elena led me up the creaky stairs, each step feeling like we were climbing toward something monumental. The house was quiet except for our footsteps and my thundering heart.

She paused at the top of the landing, her hand hovering over a closed door. “I’ve been working on this room whenever I can’t sleep.” Her voice was soft, uncertain. “Which is... often.”

The door swung open, and my breath caught.

Pink.

Everything was pink.

Soft ballet slipper pink walls. Blush curtains framing the window. A white crib with the palest pink bedding I’d ever seen. Even the fucking rocking chair in the corner had a pink pillow.

A girl. We’re having... she’s having... a girl.

My knees went weak. I gripped the doorframe, trying to steady myself as the room spun. A mobile hung above the crib—delicate butterflies dancing in the draft from the heating vent.

“I know it’s a lot of pink,” Elena said, wringing her hands. “But after everything that happened this summer, all the uncertainty...” She touched her rounded belly. “I needed to know something for sure. Finding out the gender felt like having one tiny piece of control.”

The butterfly mobile kept spinning lazily, casting shifting shadows on the wall. My throat felt like I’d swallowed sand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait?—”

“Why should you?” The words ripped out of me before I could stop them, sharp and bitter as battery acid. “It might not even be mine.”

Elena flinched like I’d slapped her. Her hand dropped from her belly as if it burned.

Fuck. FUCK.