Chapter 43 Wyatt
WYATT
BLAKE IS ACTING WEIRD. SHE’S barely argued with me about anything these past couple days, which is unsettling on its own, but she’s also not initiating sex, naps, jokes.
She claims she’s not feeling well, and Grace did make her soup for dinner last night, but I can’t shake the feeling like there’s something else going on, a piece of the puzzle that I’m missing.
She seems lost in thought, and I wonder if it has to do with school.
Maybe agreeing to do the podcast with the Spencers has made her rethink going back to college altogether.
But she only has one more year. She might as well power through it and earn her degree.
You never know when one of those could come in handy.
Not that I know. I skipped college. Wasn’t for me.
Tonight, I’m in the studio Dad’s been toiling over since he got here. His labor of love. I can’t even make fun of him for it, because I get it now. I spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about ways to make Blake happy.
As the speakers play the last notes of the melody before fading out, I shift nervously in my chair.
Although the studio is still missing some equipment and furniture, it’s mostly done, and Dad wasted no time taking my mother downstairs, blindfolded, to reveal her surprise.
She cried when she saw it. Mom rarely cries, so I know how much this must’ve meant to her.
“So?” I ask, holding my breath.
From her perch near the mixer, Mom simply says, “It’s beautiful.”
I feel a burst of joy. “Really?”
“I think it might be the best thing you’ve ever written.”
I search her face, but I don’t see even a hint of dishonesty or bullshitting. I think she means it.
“Is it ready for Tobey Dodson?”
“Absolutely.” She smiles at me. “Do I even need to ask who it’s about?”
I played “Lightkeeper” for her, which is, of course, about Blake. But so is “Stop the World.” So is “You Know.” So is every other line and verse I wrote this summer.
Before I can answer, my phone lights up with a text from Blake. Her ears must be burning. I lean over to check the message, then frown.
FRECKLES
We need to talk. Meet me on the dock.
We need to talk. Shit. Those words are never good.
But this is also what I’ve been desperate for. She’s been shutting me out for two days, and that worries me. I want to talk.
“Can we finish this in a bit?” I ask, sliding off my chair.
“Of course. Whenever you want,” Mom says.
I waste no time slipping my feet into a pair of slides and striding outside. A minute later, the dock is creaking beneath my shoes as I make my way toward Blake. She sits cross-legged with her phone beside her. She doesn’t even look over when I join her. That’s concerning.
“Hey,” I say. “What’s going on?”
She doesn’t answer. Just sits there quietly, twisting her fingers together in her lap. The lake is still tonight, the moonlight dancing across its dark surface.
“Blake,” I urge. “Talk to me.”
“I’m pregnant.”
The world stops.
It just…stops. My lungs seize. My heart freezes. The crickets go silent. The buzz of mosquitoes ceases.
For a second, I wonder if I misheard her.
“You’re w-what?” I stammer.
“Pregnant.”
“As in?”
“Pregnant.” She finally glances at me. Her eyes are tired and sad but also a bit amused. “You put a baby in there, Graham.”
“How?”
“With your sperm.”
I choke out a laugh. “No, I mean, I know that. But we took the Plan B.”
“Must’ve missed the window,” she says dully. “I found out two days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.”
“Do your parents know?”
“Only my mom. I wanted to tell you before we destroyed our dads’ friendship again.”
I have no clue how she’s managing to make me laugh when she just changed the entire trajectory of my life with two words. I’m pregnant.
Jesus. Her father is going to take me out on the boat again, and this time, he’ll drown me.
“I got a blood test done yesterday at the clinic in town, and I spoke to my doctor today. We had a video consult. She thinks I’m about five weeks.
She’s bringing me in for a seven-week scan, and we’ll be able to see if everything is going smoothly or normal or whatever…
” Blake gulps. “So we have two weeks to sit with this before we even know what’s happening. ”
My mind is still spinning, free-falling. Pregnant. Baby.
“I know you’ll want me to take care of it, but I haven’t decided.”
I frown at her. “Why is that what you think I want?”
“Because…” Her voice starts shaking. “You’re not the kind of guy who wants a baby this young, Wyatt. You don’t want to be tied down or trapped.”
“Who’s trapping me? Because the last time I checked, it takes two people to make a baby, and I’m equally responsible for this.”
“And you should have a say in what we do.” Her bottom lip trembles. “It’s okay to admit you don’t want it.”
“Hey.” I reach for her hand.
She flinches, just slightly, and it kills me.
“Blake, look at me.”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re full of fear and…guilt. And that kills me too. She has nothing to feel guilty about.
“We did everything properly,” I remind her. “We fucked up, and we tried to fix it with Plan B, and it didn’t work. But we did this together.”
“I don’t know what I want to do,” she tells me. “So I’m not saying I’m keeping it. I just want to wait to decide until after the scan. Maybe there isn’t even a decision to make.”
I go quiet for a moment, absorbing that. “Okay. Then we’ll wait.”
She gawks at me like I’ve grown horns. “You’re calm,” she accuses. “Why are you so calm? Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“I am. I’m terrified. My stomach’s doing backflips. But…” I hesitate, searching for the words. “I’m not as terrified as I thought I’d be. Not with you. Not when it’s us.”
“What does that even mean, us? This isn’t… I don’t know what this is.” Frustrated, she pulls her hand back and hugs her knees. “You can’t say it’s fine, because it’s not fine.”
“I’m not saying it’s fine. I’m saying I’m not going to run. If you decide to keep it, I’ll be here. I’m here now.”
Tears well up in her eyes, clinging to her thick lashes. “You’re not the settling-down type. You’ve made that clear. This isn’t you.”
“Maybe it is,” I say softly. “Maybe I just didn’t realize it until now.”
She focuses on me, uncertain. “Are you only saying that because I’m pregnant? You’re trying to be some hero now because you feel responsible?”
“No, I’m saying it because I care about you. Because I…” I stop, exhaling slowly. “Because I love you.”
I’ve said those three words to a girl before. Many times, in fact. Back when I mistook sexual chemistry for true love, before I realized what I was feeling wasn’t real. Didn’t last.
It’s been years since those words left my mouth, but the second they do, I know without a doubt this isn’t about chemistry or sex or some idealistic version of love I write about in songs.
This is the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
Blake Logan owns me. Heart, body, and soul.
“You love me.” She bites her lip. “Since when?”
“I don’t know. Forever maybe. I’ve just been too scared to say it.”
She stares at me like she’s trying to read every thought in my mind. “You’re not just saying that?”
“No.” I reach for her hand again, and this time, she lets me hold it. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’m in love with you.”
Her face crumples, as if she doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh. She doesn’t say it back. That should bother me, but it doesn’t. She’s going through a lot right now. I don’t want her to feel forced to say things or pressured to feel something that she doesn’t.
For a moment, we sit there. Fingers laced together, staring at each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Then she says, “What if I’m not ready? If I can’t do this? I’m not someone’s mom.”
I tighten my grip on her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m in this.”
She sniffles, peering at the water. “It scares me that you don’t sound scared.”
Chuckling, I press her hand to my chest, where my heart is pounding harder than it ever has before.
“Feel how fast that’s beating? I’m fucking terrified. But…two weeks,” I remind her. “We sit in this together for two weeks. No rushing, no pushing. Just us.”
“Us,” she repeats slowly, as if testing the word out for size.
I gently stroke her knuckles. “Can you do that for me, baby?”
“Yeah.” Blake leans toward me and rests her head against my shoulder. “I can do that.”