Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(94)

“I’m not drunk.” Anymore.

“Did you sleep out here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

“Ugh.” Her eyes shut and her head tips back. “That’s really romantic.”

“I didn’t need time to gather my thoughts at all.”

Her head snaps down now. “Yeah? Is that why you sat there all wide-eyed, asking about my carrot?”

I laugh because I can’t help it. “I do want to know about the carrot. But I was wide-eyed because I was trying to gauge you and see how I should react. I’m sorry I stayed silent. There are a lot of things I should have said.”

She sighs heavily and then slides down the opposite side of the doorframe to face me. “You accidentally knocked a woman up once who upended your whole life by pretending she was on birth control, so I can see how the nanny who told you she’s on birth control getting pregnant might freak you out.”

My brows furrow. “Willa—”

“I swear I didn’t lie. I swear I’m taking my pills. Winter said that when I was sick, they probably didn’t stay down and that might have fucked it all up, and I didn’t even think about it, and even though I’ve thought about having like a million babies with you one day, I just absolutely did not do this on purpose, even though I’m actually not that sad about it, which sounds awful, because like, I don’t want to trap you with me, so like—”

“Willa!”

Her eyes widen dramatically as she leans back a little. I reach forward and plunk her bare feet into my lap with my good hand. “You’re going to collapse a lung talking in run-on sentences like that, baby. And there’s no one I’d rather be trapped with.” She blinks at me, and I rub my thumbs along the arches of her feet and up her ankles.

“I haven’t shaved my legs.”

I chuckle. “I don’t care. Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you, Willa. Prickly legs, random carrots in your purse, pregnant, not pregnant. I want you.”

Tears spring up in her eyes, and her voice is raspy when she says, “But this has happened to you before, and I don’t want to be lumped in with that shit. I don’t want you being with me out of some sort of obligation. We haven’t even told people about us. We haven’t figured a single thing out. You’ve never told me that you love me. But now I’m pregnant and that’s all going to happen? It just feels . . . forced.”

“Willa.” I can hear an edge of panic to the tone I’m using. “Nothing is forced. We were on this track already. We’re not two people who were unhappy and now are trying to make something work that wasn’t working before. We were happy.”

“Yeah. We were. But this is your personality. This is you swooping in to be responsible before you’ve even processed what this means because your first instinct is to take care of everyone before you take care of yourself.”

I can only blink at her. This conversation is not going the way I expected it to.

“Willa, stop—”

“No.” She holds her hand up. “For all the times you’ve told me to shut up and listen, it’s now your turn, Cade.”

She pulls her feet away and pushes up to stand. “I don’t want to be another obligation in your life. Another burden. Another reason you’re missing out on all the things you always wanted to do. And maybe I’m not. Maybe this is a happy accident. But getting injured, followed by finding out shocking, life-altering news, followed by getting drunk on the floor”—she points at the empty glass beside me—“isn’t the right recipe to be rushing into something like this.”

Her sigh is heavy, and one stray tear rolls down her cheek. I raise my hand, needing to wipe it away for her. “I’m going to go back to my place in the city—”

My mouth opens to argue, but her eyes narrow and she makes this zipping motion with her hand that ends in pinching her fingers together before she continues, “For a few days. I want to see my doctor and confirm things. And I want you to spend some time thinking. I want to know that this isn’t some shotgun relationship built on failed birth control and a stupid stomach bug. So don’t follow me. You have options, and you are free to take them. I want you to let yourself consider your options, because no one has ever really given you any options, Cade. And you deserve them.”

I can feel my entire body slumping deeper with every word she says. I know in my heart what’s right. But the things she’s saying about me and my life? They’re true. And I’ve spent so many years working to fix everything around me that I’ve never just sat here and let myself feel sad about the fact I’ve never really considered my options.

She crouches before me now, framing my face with her palms. “More than anything in the world, I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

Her lips press gently to my forehead, and then she steps over me, scooping one hand down to pick up the discarded glass before walking away.

Every part of me wants to go after her, but sometimes loving someone means giving them the space they want. The space they need. For a little while, at least.

So instead, I just sit here. Thinking about my options. About how Willa is the only option I want.