Page 131 of Fixing to Be Mine

I put my hand on her shoulder, leading her to the door.

She opens her mouth, as if she’s ready to apologize.

“Save it,” I say.

She swallows hard. “I’m pregnant.”

I blink at her. The room tilts a little, like the floor beneath me isn’t quite solid.

Pregnant.

The word echoes in my head, but I barely comprehend it. Donovan didn’t want to have kids with me and was very clear about it. It was something I accepted and made peace with.

She’s blindsided me.

I stop walking and cross my arms. The ache behind my ribs pounds.

“You knew he didn’t want kids,” I say quietly. “You trapped him.Wow. Determined.”

Her throat works around something she doesn’t know how to say.

I hold her gaze for a long time. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m so sorry.” A tear slides down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

“You’ve got bigger issues to concern yourself with.” I walk to the door and open it slowly. “I hope you got what you wanted.”

She walks away, and I shut the door, leaning my forehead against it.

My heart feels like it’s beating in a different rhythm now.

Colt appears beside me, his hand at the small of my back. “You okay?”

“No,” I say, turning to him. “But I will be.”

I let myself cry—not for my sister, not for Donovan, not for my career, but for the version of myself that stayed quiet for too long. She’s gone now.

Instead of this being the end of something, it feels more like the beginning of my new life.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

COLT

She doesn’t say anything after I pull her into my arms.

She stays pressed against me, her body finally softening after hours of holding herself together. I feel the moment she shifts—not a collapse, but like she’s giving herself permission to feel the things she’s buried since leaving the city behind.

I let my presence speak louder than anything I could offer.

She cries, and I keep my arms around her.

Eventually, she steps back. Her eyes are red, her face streaked with emotion, but her shoulders are still squared. She looks like a woman who walked through fire and knows exactly what kind of burn she can survive.

“I think I need a shower,” she says hoarsely.

I nod. “Take your time.”

She disappears down the hall without another word. The sound of the door closing is soft. A few seconds later, the water turns on.

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