Chapter 2 - Naomi
The words stick in my throat as I stare at Ethan's face.
He looks younger like this—confused, a little drunk, his dark hair disheveled from the night air. This isn't how I imagined telling him. Not standing in his family's living room at two-thirty in the morning with his intimidating older brother as a witness.
"Jesus Christ, Ethan," I whisper, my fingers automatically moving to fidget with the hem of my bakery polo.
The shirt feels tighter than it did a few weeks ago. Soon, I won't be able to hide it anymore.
"What?" he asks, his voice edged with defensive humor. "If it's not that, then what's so important that you're at my house in the middle of the night talking to my brother instead of me?"
I take a deep breath. I've rehearsed this moment for weeks, but now that it's here, all my carefully prepared speeches scatter like leaves in the wind.
"I'm pregnant," I say, the words tumbling out. "Four months pregnant."
Ethan's face goes completely blank before his eyes widen, a laugh bubbling up from his throat that dies as quickly as it started.
"That's not—" He shakes his head. "That's not possible."
"It is possible," I counter, my voice steadier than I feel. "And it's happening."
"But we were careful," he insists, running a hand through his hair. "I always pulled out."
Jackson makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, but I keep my eyes fixed on Ethan.
"That method isn't exactly foolproof, Ethan," I say, heat rising to my cheeks. I hate discussing this in front of his brother, but I didn't have much choice. "It's actually pretty unreliable."
"Are you sure it's..." He trails off, and I can see the accusation forming in his eyes before he even says it.
"Yes," I cut him off, anger flaring hot beneath my ribs. "I'm sure it's yours. I haven't been with anyone else for the past year."
Ethan looks stunned, like someone hit him with a plank. He staggers slightly, finding the arm of a chair and leaning against it.
"Four months?" he repeats. "But we stopped seeing each other almost two months ago."
"I didn't know then," I explain, the familiar guilt washing over me. "I wasn't feeling well, but I thought it was stress from the bakery. By the time I realized and took a test, you'd already made it clear you didn't want anything serious with me."
"So you came to my brother instead of me?" His voice rises, a flush creeping up his neck.
Jackson steps forward then, his presence solid and grounding between us.
"She came to the house looking for you, Ethan. You weren't here—as usual. I answered the door and found her upset on our porch."
"I wasn't going to tell him," I add quickly. "But he could tell something was wrong, and I just—" I gesture helplessly. "I broke down. I've been carrying this alone for weeks."
Ethan's eyes dart between us, looking betrayed.
"How long have you known?" he asks Jackson.
"Just tonight," his brother answers. "And now we need to talk about what you're going to do."
"Do?" Ethan repeats, like the word is foreign.
"Yes, do," Jackson's voice is firm but not unkind. "This isn't going away, little brother."
I feel a rush of gratitude toward Jackson. When I showed up at the Covington ranch tonight, I'd been a mess of nerves and morning sickness that persisted well into the evening.
Jackson had opened the door, taken one look at me, and ushered me inside without question. There was no judgment in his eyes when I finally explained why I was there—just a quiet determination that made me believe, for the first time, that this might somehow be okay.
"I didn't come here to trap you," I say, meeting Ethan's stunned gaze. "Or to force you into something you don't want. I just... you deserved to know."
Ethan sinks into the chair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His whole body radiates disbelief.
"A baby?" he whispers, more to himself than to us. "I can't be a father. I'm not—I don't know how to—"
"Nobody does at first," Jackson says quietly.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling like an intruder in this moment between brothers. The reality of my situation crashes over me again: single, pregnant, and in love with a man who runs from commitment like it's on fire.
"Look," I say, my voice shaking slightly. "It's late. You're processing. I get it. I should go."
"Go?" Ethan's head snaps up. "You drop this bomb and then just leave?"
"We can talk tomorrow when you're sober. I'll be at the bakery until three."
"And then what?" he asks, a note of panic in his voice. "What happens after we talk?"
I meet his eyes, seeing the fear there, the same fear I've been carrying.
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "That's what we need to figure out."
Ethan scrunches his hair between his fingers, and his face contorts through several emotions—fear, confusion, and finally, something that looks surprisingly like resolve.
"I know what to do," he says suddenly. "I just don't know how."
Jackson's eyebrows lift. "What do you mean by that?"
Ethan straightens in his chair, squaring his shoulders like he's preparing for a fight.
"I mean, we're obviously having this kid, and I'm going to be a good father to it."
Of all the scenarios I'd imagined—his denial, his anger, his suggestion that I "take care of it"—this wasn't one of them. Ethan Covington, Cedar Falls' most notorious commitment-phobe, volunteering for fatherhood?
"Are you serious?" I finally manage to ask.
"Dead serious." His eyes lock with mine, clearer now despite the alcohol. "This is my responsibility."
A complicated wave of emotion washes over me—relief that he's not running away, but also skepticism that feels almost cruel to acknowledge.
"Ethan," I begin carefully, "being a father isn't just something you decide to be in a moment. It's every day for the rest of your life."
"You think I don't know that?" There's a flash of hurt in his eyes.
"I think you might not realize what you're signing up for," I say gently. "Your whole life would have to change."
Jackson watches our exchange with an unreadable expression, his arms crossed over his chest.
"My brothers did it," Ethan says stubbornly. "Vincent's been raising Lucy, and Cole's stepped up for Luisa's kid. Hell, even Aaron seems to be handling the idea of starting a family with Elena."
"They're different," I point out. "They're—"
"What? More responsible? More grown-up?" There's an edge to his voice now. "Everyone thinks they know exactly who I am. Party boy Ethan, can't be trusted with anything important. But this is different. This is my child."
The way he says "my child" sends an unexpected warmth through me, even as my logical side remains unconvinced.
"And what would this look like, exactly?" I ask. "Us, co-parenting? You living your life, me living mine, and shuffling a baby back and forth between houses?"
"I don't know," he admits. "I haven't figured out all the details."
"There are a lot of details to figure out," I say softly.
Jackson clears his throat.
"It's late. You both need time to process this." His gaze shifts to me. "Do you have a safe way to get home?"
"I drove here," I tell him. "I'm completely sober."
"Good." He nods. "Ethan, we'll talk more in the morning."
But Ethan's attention is still entirely on me, his expression both terrified and determined. "Tomorrow. The bakery. I'll be there."
"Okay," I agree, gathering my purse from where I'd set it on the couch. "Around two? That's when the lunch rush usually ends."
He nods once, firmly. "I'll be there."
As I walk toward the door, I feel his eyes following me. I turn back one last time before stepping outside.
"Ethan? For what it's worth, I didn't expect this reaction."
A small, sad smile touches his lips. "Maybe no one knows me as well as they think they do."
The night air hits my face as I step onto the porch, cool and grounding. Behind me, I can hear the brothers' voices rising and falling, though I can't make out the words. I place a hand on my still-mostly-flat stomach, wondering if the tiny life inside can feel my uncertainty, my hope, my fear.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I'm not carrying this burden completely alone. Ethan's declaration might be impulsive—perhaps even unrealistic—but it was genuine. I saw it in his eyes.
As I drive away from the Covington ranch, a strange thought surfaces in my mind: maybe Ethan Covington, the town's most unreliable guy, might surprise us all.
Maybe he'll even surprise himself.