33. Clay
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Clay
I still can't get past the twins part.
The word keeps ricocheting around my skull while I stare at Josie sitting beside me on the motel bed, looking exhausted, scared, and beautiful enough to knock the breath out of me.
Twins that somehow belong to me.
A laugh almost escapes me again, but this one gets stuck somewhere behind my ribs because the reality finally lands properly.
Two babies, and Josie carried them alone while I spiraled, feeling sorry for myself.
Shame burns hot and immediate through my chest.
I should’ve been there.
Every appointment. Every bad morning. Every terrified moment in the middle of the night where she probably convinced herself she had to handle this on her own because I’d already proven I run the second life gets hard.
The thought makes me feel sick.
Josie watches me carefully now, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “You don’t have to decide everything immediately.”
I blink back toward her. “What?”
“You just found out.” Her voice stays cautious, gentle in a way that somehow hurts worse. “I don’t want you making huge decisions because you feel trapped.”
Trapped.
The word hits wrong instantly.
I lean forward, elbows braced against my knees. “You think this feels like a trap?”
“No.” She exhales softly. “I think you’ve spent your whole life running the second people expect things from you.” She looks down at her hands before continuing. “And I don’t want you waking up six months from now resenting me because you stayed in Buckhorn for the wrong reasons.”
My chest shifts hard at that.
Because even now, even carrying my kids, Josie’s still trying to protect me from becoming somebody I’ll hate.
I move before I fully think about it, reaching over and catching both her hands in mine.
"Look at me." She studies our joined hands before finally lifting her eyes. “I’m coming home.”
Josie studies my face carefully, probably searching for hesitation. “Clay—”
“I mean it.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“This isn’t about proving anything.”
Her brows pull together slightly. “Then what is it about?”
I don’t know how to explain it properly.
Hearing there are two tiny heartbeats depending on me cracks open every fear I've spent years hauling around. None of the things I've been chasing feel bigger than what I'd lose by running again, and my whole life seems to rearrange itself in the span of a single conversation.
I scrub a hand over my jaw slowly. “I’ve spent so long trying to figure out where I belong that I never stopped long enough to build anything worth staying for.”
Emotion flickers across her face.
I squeeze her hands gently. “But this?” I glance down toward her stomach before meeting her eyes again. “You. Them. That matters more than any damn arena ever will.”
Her throat moves around a swallow.
“You’re scared,” she says.
I huff out a rough laugh. “Terrified.”
That finally earns a tiny smile from her.
“Good,” she murmurs. “You should be.”
“I got informed there’s two babies, Josie. I may never recover.”
A startled laugh slips out of her before she presses her lips together.
I shake my head slowly. “You really kept this to yourself all this time?”
Her eyes drop again. “I tried to tell you, but you didn’t seem to want to hear me. So I tried to convince myself it was easier.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.” A sad smile touches her mouth. “Turns out secretly carrying twins is pretty stressful.”
Guilt twists through me again.
I think about her in a doctor’s office while I sat in this motel room drinking myself numb.
About her waking up scared this morning while I ignored phone calls because I didn’t want Boone seeing what a mess I’d become.
I tighten my grip on her hands slightly. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all of it.”
My throat tightens around the words.
“For leaving. For making you think you had to do this alone. For every time I made you question where you stood with me.”
Josie’s expression softens immediately. “Clay—”
“No, let me say it.” I exhale hard through my nose. “I’ve been acting like my life’s happening to me instead of because of me.”
I glance toward the motel window where sunlight bleeds weakly through the cheap curtains.
Ten days ago these motel rooms felt temporary in the comforting way motel rooms usually do. No expectations or permanence. No responsibility following you past checkout time.
Now it just feels empty.
I look back at Josie sitting beside me and realize something that should’ve been obvious weeks ago.
Somewhere along the way, home stopped being a place and became a handful of people I couldn't imagine losing.
A knock sounds against the motel door before I can say any of that out loud.
Boone’s voice follows a second later. “Y'all done rewriting each other's emotional damage, or should Rose and I circle the parking lot another ten minutes?”
Josie laughs quietly under her breath while I close my eyes. “That man really was born forty-five years old.”
“Open the door, Clay.”
“I’m injured.”
“And dramatic.”
I push myself upright with a grunt while my knee immediately punishes me for existing. Josie reaches out automatically like she’s going to steady me, then catches herself halfway.
I take her hand anyway.
Her eyes flick up to mine in surprise.
I don’t let go.
Boone notices immediately when I open the door. Rose stands beside him, balancing a takeout bag and coffees while Boone studies me carefully.
“Well,” he says slowly. “Nobody’s thrown a lamp yet. That feels promising.”
Rose elbows him lightly before stepping inside. “We brought burgers.”
“Bless you,” I mutter.
Josie moves toward the tiny table while Rose immediately falls into gentle mother hen mode.
“You need to sit,” Rose tells her.
“I’ve been sitting all day.”
“And now you can sit with fries.”
“That argument’s unfortunately compelling.”
Boone watches me quietly while the girls sort through food containers.
Then he jerks his head toward the walkway outside.
You good?
Classic Boone. Other people get speeches. Boone's capable of conducting an entire conversation with one eyebrow.
I follow him out onto the motel walkway.
Heat slams into me immediately, dry Idaho summer air baking the parking lot while semis rumble along the highway beyond the motel sign.
Boone leans against the railing. “So?”
I stare out across the lot for a second before answering. “She’s pregnant.”
His brows lift slightly. “Yeah, Rose pieced that together on the way here.”
I glance over at him. “Twins.”
That actually gets him. His eyes widen. “Hell.”
“Exactly.”
A grin tugs briefly at his mouth before fading again. “You alright?”
The question catches me off guard.
Because for the first time in weeks, maybe months, I actually know the answer.
“No,” I admit honestly. “I mean, I missed a lot, and I’m sad about that. But I do understand that I made it hard for Josie. My mood was… unbearable,” I swallow a thick ball of emotion lodged in my throat. “But I want to be better. I want to be there from here on out.”
Boone studies me quietly. “What’re you gonna do?”
I look back through the motel window where Josie sits beside Rose, holding a carton of fries while listening to her talk. Her hand rests absently over her stomach.
“I’m coming home.”
Boone goes still for half a second. “You mean for a while?” he asks carefully.
I shake my head once. “No. I mean I’m done running.”
Boone exhales slowly and looks away toward the highway. I know him well enough to catch the emotion hidden underneath it. Relief.
He glances sideways at me again. “You sure?”
I think about Dad, about all the years I spent convincing myself I’d inherited every bad part of him and none of the good.
Then I think about Josie alone, carrying babies I didn’t even know existed yet.
Fear still claws hard at my chest.
But underneath it sits another feeling.
Choice.
“I don’t know how to do any of this,” I admit quietly. “But I know I want to.”
Boone’s hand lands hard against the back of my neck for one rough second before he lets go. “That’s enough to start with.”
The drive back to Buckhorn starts an hour later.
Josie sits beside me in the backseat while the Idaho highway stretches endlessly ahead beneath fading afternoon light.
The miles slide by without much conversation.
Rose dozes against the passenger window. Boone drives one-handed, paying the highway the same level of attention he gives everything else. And beside me, Josie’s fingers stay tangled with mine.
I keep tracing my thumb across her knuckles, reminding myself she's actually here beside me.
Pregnant with my babies. Twins. The idea still feels impossible.
Josie shifts closer carefully and rests her head against my shoulder. “You’re thinking too hard again.”
“You can tell?”
“You get this crease between your eyebrows.” She taps my forehead lightly. “Very tortured cowboy.”
“I am tortured.”
“You’re mostly dramatic.”
“That too.”
Her laugh settles somewhere deep inside me.
For once, I don’t feel the itch to keep moving.
I stare down at our joined hands resting over her stomach.
Somewhere between Twin Falls and Buckhorn, fear stops feeling like a warning and starts feeling like a responsibility.
Maybe that's what building a life is.