32. Josephine
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Josephine
The motel hallway smells faintly of cigarette smoke and burnt coffee.
Neither seems particularly suited to a conversation that might rearrange both of our lives.
Clay stares at me from the doorway like he still hasn’t fully decided whether I’m real or a hallucination brought on by whiskey and self-destruction.
His dark hair sticks up in every direction, exhaustion carved deep beneath his eyes.
He looks rough in a way that goes beyond the hangover, his skin washed out and the hollows beneath his eyes deeper than I remember.
Behind me, Boone says quietly, “We’re gonna go grab food.”
Rose immediately catches on. “There’s a diner down the road.”
Clay blinks slowly. “You drove eight hours for diner food?”
“For you,” Boone says flatly. “Unfortunately.”
Rose squeezes my arm gently as she passes me. “Text if you need anything.”
Need anything.
As though there's a version of this conversation that doesn't leave at least one of us emotionally wrecked afterward.
The motel door clicks shut behind them, and the room suddenly feels smaller.
Clay rubs one hand over the back of his neck. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“I know.”
His eyebrows lift, caught off guard by the answer.
I cross my arms loosely over my chest. “That doesn’t mean I regret it.”
Clay shifts his weight off his bad leg with a grimace. “You could’ve just called.”
“I did call.”
“Right.” He winces. “The voicemail.”
“The voicemail,” I repeat.
“Yeah, that’s gonna keep me awake for the next forty years.”
Despite everything, my mouth twitches.
He notices immediately and points at me. “Don’t laugh. I was fighting for my life in there.”
“You left two voicemails.”
His eyes close briefly. “Please stop saying the number out loud.”
A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
The tension in his face eases.
That's what makes Clay so hard to resist. No matter how frustrated or hurt I get, one real moment from him slips straight through every defense I build.
His expression shifts again after a second, guilt creeping back in around the edges. “You really got scared?”
The question comes quieter now.
I lean against the dresser because suddenly standing feels harder than it should. “You sounded awful.”
“I was drunk.”
“You sounded lonely.”
That lands harder.
I can tell by the way his shoulders pull tight.
Then Clay limps farther into the room and lowers himself carefully onto the edge of the bed. The mattress creaks beneath his weight while he braces his forearms against his knees.
“I didn’t think anybody would notice if I disappeared for a while,” he admits.
Emotion twists painfully in my chest.
“That’s not true.”
A humorless smile pulls briefly at his mouth. “Felt true.”
The air conditioner keeps rattling while neither of us fills the gap.
I study him for a long moment.
The stubbornness is still there. The charm too. But exhaustion hangs off him heavier now, stripped bare without the constant motion he usually hides inside.
I move closer slowly and sit beside him on the edge of the mattress.
“You scared your family,” I say gently.
His jaw flexes. “I know.”
“Rose looked ready to cry.”
“That sucked.”
“Boone looked ready to commit felony assault.”
“That feels more familiar.”
I glance sideways at him. “You joke every time things get uncomfortable.”
“I can’t help it.”
“No, it’s avoidance.”
His breath catches around a quiet laugh. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Cut straight through the bullshit.”
I shrug lightly. “I work with animals. Most of them have better coping mechanisms.”
Clay stares down at his hands. “I thought going back to the circuit would fix it.”
“Fix what?”
He’s quiet long enough that I think he might dodge the question entirely. Instead, he says, “That feeling.”
“What feeling?”
His shoulders rise and fall slowly. “Like everybody else got handed instructions for life except me.”
The honesty in his voice catches me off guard.
He keeps talking before I can respond.
“Boone knows exactly who he is. Dallas too. Even Nash figured it out eventually.” His gaze stays fixed on the floor. “They all fit somewhere. The ranch. Their families. Their lives.”
“And you think you don’t.”
“I know I don’t.”
The certainty hurts to hear.
“You belong with them,” I say softly.
Clay shakes his head once. “You didn’t see me growing up.”
“No, but I see you now.”
“That’s worse.”
I frown slightly.
He laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it. “Josie, I’ve spent half my life running because staying anywhere long enough means people eventually realize I’m not built right for any of it.”
“That isn’t true.”
“My own dad thought I’d fail.”
The admission settles between us, impossible to ignore.
I go still.
Clay scrubs both hands over his face roughly before continuing. “He left money behind for me. Separate from the ranch.”
“Oh, Clay.”
He laughs bitterly. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“No.” My chest aches suddenly. “It’s sad.”
That surprises him enough to make him look at me.
Clay exhales slowly. “Then I got hurt, and suddenly everybody’s hovering over me while I limp around Buckhorn feeling useless.”
“You weren’t useless.”
“I couldn’t even carry feed bags without somebody watching me like I might collapse into the dirt.”
“That’s because your brothers love you.”
His eyes close briefly.
“That’s the problem,” he says quietly.
I stare at him. “How is that possibly the problem?”
“Because I don’t know how to deserve it.”
The confession settles deep between us. I think about the voicemail.
About him alone in this motel room, convincing himself nobody would notice if he disappeared.
About the way he looked at me when I opened the door.
He'd looked stranded, as though he'd finally run out of places left to run.
And suddenly I can’t hold my own secret anymore.
Fear climbs hard into my throat.
Clay notices the shift in my breathing immediately. “What?”
I stare down at my hands. My pulse pounds everywhere at once. “I need to tell you something.”
Every trace of humor disappears from his face. “Okay.”
I open my mouth and nothing comes out. The irony would be funny if I weren't so terrified.
I’m a grown woman with a veterinary degree and enough emotional maturity to qualify for Olympic sponsorship, and suddenly I can’t form a complete sentence.
Clay sits up straighter instantly. “Josie?”
My eyes burn unexpectedly. “I was going to tell you before you left.”
His expression tightens. “Tell me what?”
I press one hand instinctively against my stomach.
I see the exact second confusion flickers across his face.
Then concern.
Then realization trying and failing to form.
“Wait,” he says slowly.
My throat closes. “I'm pregnant.”
Silence.
The kind that changes everything before either person even moves.
Clay stares at me without blinking. I can actually see the moment his brain stops functioning properly.
“You’re…” His voice cuts out completely.
I nod once because speaking suddenly feels impossible. Clay looks down at my stomach again.
“When?” he asks hoarsely.
“A while ago.”
“You found out a while ago?”
“I know this is a lot.”
“A lot,” he repeats faintly.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
His eyes snap back to mine. “That’s why you were acting weird.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Probably because carrying your children tends to affect a person emotionally.”
The word lands.
Children.
I watch confusion crease his forehead again.
Then every trace of movement leaves him.
I close my eyes briefly. “Twins.”
Nothing in the world could’ve prepared me for the expression that crosses Clay’s face.
Shock first. Pure stunned disbelief. Then absolute terror.
“Twins,” he repeats blankly.
The disbelief fades from Clay's face, replaced by a look that makes my stomach twist.
"What were you going to do?" I already know what he's asking. "If I hadn't called."
My gaze drops to the stained motel carpet.
"Josie."
I drag in a breath that doesn't help. "I don't know."
His brow furrows. "You don't know?"
"I kept telling myself I'd figure it out." My fingers knot together in my lap. "Every time I decided I was going to tell you, I'd talk myself out of it again."
The admission sits between us.
Clay watches me for a few seconds before asking, "When exactly did you find out?"
"June."
His entire body stills. "June as in two months ago?"
My throat tightens. "Yeah."
He lets out a breath and looks away, staring at the wall.
I can see him working through it. The texts. The video calls. The barn dance. Breakfast together. Every conversation we've had since then.
His hand drops from his hair. "Who knows?"
The question comes quietly this time.
"Penny knew from the beginning." He nods once. "And I told Tessa. But it’s my fault she kept it a secret. Don’t blame her; she wanted me to tell you, but I just… I was scared. Scared that you would hate me. Scared that I would be forcing a life on you that you didn’t want.
I didn’t want to pull you away from the rodeo. ”
His eyes squeeze shut.
The hurt on his face hits harder than anger would've.
“You were always leaving."
Clay's jaw flexes. "I left for work."
"You left because you wanted to."
The words slip out before I can soften them.
He flinches.
Instantly, guilt follows. "I don't mean that the way it sounded."
"Then tell me how you mean it."
I swallow hard. "You spent months talking about the circuit. About getting back on the road. About how Buckhorn made you feel trapped." My eyes burn. "Even after you got hurt, all you talked about was leaving again."
Clay drops his gaze.
"So when I found out about the babies..." I laugh weakly and shake my head. "I panicked."
The confession opens a door I can't close again.
"I've spent my whole life taking care of myself. My family was never the kind you could lean on. If I needed help, I figured it out myself because there wasn't another option."
I press a hand against my stomach.
"Then I found out there were two babies, and their father was a man who couldn't stay in one place for longer than five minutes without getting restless."
Pain flashes across his face.
I hate causing it.
I hate that part of me still believes it.
"You disappeared after the accident," I continue. "I knew you were hurt. I knew you were struggling, and when I tried to talk to you, we ended up arguing, then you left Buckhorn before you'd even healed."
Clay doesn't interrupt.
"I kept telling myself I could do this alone," I say. "I have a job. A home. People who care about me. I thought if I planned well enough and worked hard enough, I could handle everything." My laugh comes out shaky. "That's the lie I've told myself my entire life."
Clay's eyes stay locked on mine.
"If I expected anything from you, then I was giving you the power to disappoint me."
Clay drags a hand across his face. "You really thought I'd walk away from my kids?"
Tears sting behind my eyes. I look down at my hands. "I didn't know what you'd do. That's the whole problem, Clay."
“Well, I know the first thing I'm doing now.” He doesn't hesitate. “I'm coming home.”