Page 117 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

It hurts more to say it out loud. "I told him. And he... he left."

"Holy shit. Want me to come over and punch him? I’ve got real boots on."

A shaky laugh escapes me. It feels foreign, jagged in my throat.

"Maybe. But also, maybe just talk me down from setting his clothes on fire."

"Tempting. Very tempting." She laughs. "But, Soph, that dumbass really loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it. The way he looks at you like you’re his entire damn gravity."

I press my hand against my heart like that might somehow soften the ache.

"Then why isn’t he here?" My voice cracks and breaks on the last word.

"Men are idiots under pressure. Especially the ones who never thought they'd get something good enough to lose. Besides, love’s not the problem. Fear is.”

I sniff, wiping at my face. "He told me he’s not built for this."

"Bullshit," Halie barks. "You’re both different now. You’re not the hard ass who pushed everyone away. And he’s not thecareless asshole who couldn’t commit to a weekend plan, let alone a life. He just needs a bit of time to get his shit together.

And when he does, if he’s half the man you believe he is, he’ll come back stronger. For you. For the baby."

I hug my knees to my chest, curling into the smallest version of myself. "And if he doesn’t?"

"If he doesn’t? If he really is that stupid? We’ll get matching bat tattoos and raise your little badass together. Deal?”

Another broken laugh breaks free, this one warmer, healing in a way I didn’t expect.

"Deal."

"And for the record," she adds dryly, "if he doesn't come crawling back, I am still fully prepared to help you set his car on fire."

I smile through the tears. "Thanks, Hails."

"Anytime, Soph. Always."

We hang up, but her words linger like a hand holding mine in the dark.

The next morning, I jolt awake, heart racing.

For a second, in that half-dream haze, I think I hear the door open.

That maybe, maybe, he came back.

I sit up, listening hard.

Nothing. Just the empty, aching quiet.

The spot beside me in bed is still cold.

I almost reach for my phone to text him. To ask where he is. If he’s okay.

But my fingers freeze halfway there.

If he wanted to be here, he would be.

The thought slices clean through the hope still clinging to my chest.

Before I can spiral any further, my phone buzzes sharply against the nightstand.

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