Page 126 of False Start
“Hey,” I said, walking over to sit down next to her. I pulled the pen and notebook from her hands and set them aside before pulling her legs into my lap. “Is this about Marshall? Because I promise, he won’t be bothering us. I made it clear that—”
“No,” she said, cutting me off with a shake of her head. She lifted her eyes to mine only a split second before she was burying her face in her hands. “Oh, God, Kyle. I… I have to tell you something.”
“Okay,” I said softly, taking her hands in mine and squeezing. “Tell me. I’m right here.”
“You don’t understand,” she whispered, folding her lips together. “It… it’s a big something. And I’mterrifiedof how you’ll react because I…”
She couldn’t even finish the sentence, her eyes wide and filled with horror before she squeezed them tightly and shook away whatever thought was making her pulse race.
And now it wasmythoughts running wild.
Because I’m a sick fucking bastard, the first thing I thought was that she’d slept with someone. But even before my stomach could fully drop at the possibility, I batted it away. She would never. I knew without an ounce of hesitation.
But then what could it be?
My mind cycled through every scenario it could think of while I waited for her to speak. She was sick. She didn’t want to move in with me. She didn’t want to move Sebastian. She didn’t love me. She didn’t want to get married. She didn’t want to be together at all.
Sweat trickled down my neck the longer the silence stretched between us, and then Madelyn blew out a shaky breath, squeezing my hands in hers and meeting my gaze.
“I’ve been so tired lately,” she started. “And today, after you left to go get Sebastian, I felt so nauseous I was sure I was going to vomit.”
I nodded. Those words didn’t take any of the sick scenarios out of my head. She was tired and she was sick. I was doing that to her. I was causing her stress. I was hurting her.
My heart was ready to beat itself to a bloody pulp before she had the chance to.
“I thought it was just my nerves, thought it was just everything that’s been going on,” she continued, her eyes flicking between mine. “But… then I… I realized… I’m late.”
I blinked.
Once, twice, then a few times in quick succession.
Late?
Late for what?
Madelyn searched my gaze and waited for me to react, but I didn’t know how to, because I didn’t understand what she was saying.
Not until she lifted her brows and dipped her head a bit.
“I’m late,” she repeated.
And my stomach fell out of my asshole.
I knew she saw it, the moment I realized what she meant, and that moment was followed by my chest rising and falling more rapidly, by my hands growing clammy where they held hers, my next swallow so hard to take it felt like sandpaper lined my throat.
It took everything in me to remain neutral, to wait for her to keep speaking before I got ahead of myself. I almost wanted to tear my hands from hers and sit on them to aide in my efforts.
Because right now, my heart was thundering with hope that was impossible to tame, and all I wanted was to pull her into me and kiss her and scream and cry and laugh and spin her around the room.
She’s pregnant.
Justthinkingthe words made my heart leap into my throat, made a smile impossible to hide bloom on my face.
I tried to wait for her to confirm it. I tried not to get ahead of myself. Butfuck, it was damn near impossible.
What if she didn’t want it? What if this was bad news to her? Judging by the anxiety riddled in every inch of her right now, that very well could be.
I schooled myself as much as I could, waiting for her cue, letting her take the lead and dictate how I should react. Whatever she needed from me right now — I’d be it.
