Chapter 31 Isaac
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
isaac
“Those are…you’re, um—”
Dark eyes avoid mine as I sputter like an idiot trying to remember how to form words. Or breathe. Or blink.
Is my heart still beating? I have no clue.
I’m on a full system shutdown.
Two facts and two facts only are circling my mind like sharks.
Elena is here in the pharmacy. And she has a handful of pregnancy tests.
“If you’ll move and let me check out, I’ll be much better equipped to help you finish that sentence,” she snaps.
Okay, claws are back out then. At least she isn’t puking.
But I get it. She’s panicking. I’m panicking.
Poor Agnes Mahaffey is probably pretty confused by my exchange with the next customer. But like the professional and sweet old lady she is, she smiles at Elena and rings up the tests.
My brain switches back on and I realize I’ve still got my debt card in hand, so I don’t move.
“I’ll get these too, Aggie,” I tell her.
Her grandson was on my high school championship football team, and I have full faith she won’t utter a word to anyone.
There’s no telling how many locals she’s seen come in here buying condoms, pregnancy tests, and STD meds.
But Agnes is a vault. A saint. I’ve never heard her say a negative word against anyone.
Elena speaks through gritted teeth as she attempts to hip check me out of her way. “That’s not necessary. I’ve got it.”
I ignore her, placing a plain black ball cap and cheap sunglass from a nearby stand on the counter as well. “These too,” I tell Agnes.
Elena gapes at me as I pay and then proceed to place the cap on sunglasses on her as we make our way outside.
“What the fu—”
“Just in case,” I tell her, catching sight of Antonio waiting in a truck out front. We walk briskly in his direction. “Ivy said paparazzi had been spotted in town. She thinks the PR people for the production company might be trying to create buzz around you and Eli.”
I’d laughed when she’d told me. Imagined a middle-aged guy lurking in the bushes with a camera. I’m not laughing now. And if some asshole thinks he’s getting pictures of this woman, who might be carrying my child, without her consent, well, I’ve got some bad news to share with that guy.
She huffs like an angry kitten. “Okay, so what does that have to do with—"
“You want them seeing you with me? Buying pregnancy tests? Splashing that all over the tabloids before either of us have had time to tell our families or even process what this means?”
“I haven’t even taken one yet,” she mumbles, tugging the ball cap lower.
“Ride back with Antonio and I’ll follow. I’ll meet you at your cabin and we can see what these tests say. Sound good?”
She looks up at me with dark vulnerable eyes. “At least one of us has a plan.”
I tug the bill of her hat then help her into the cab of Antonio’s truck. I jerk my chin at him in silent thanks, then she’s gone.
There’s a fist in my chest, squeezing my heart like a Hulk hand, but I ignore it. Make my way to my truck and climb inside.
I should be in full freak-the-fuck-out mode.
I keep waiting for it to kick in. Any second now.
But as I speed toward the ranch, there’s hope where fear should be.
And I don’t know what the hell to make of that.
The packages all said results in two minutes.
Elena has been locked in the bathroom of her cabin for ten.
“Sweetheart,” I sing-song against the door. “You doing okay in there?” I press my palm to the wood of the bathroom door. “Elena?” I call again when I’m met with silence.
“No,” she says on the other side, voice fragile and low. Like a wounded animal.
I lean my forehead against the door.
That’s the first thing she’s said since she disappeared on the other side.
“No, baby? You’re not okay?”
I’m dying out here. But I get it. She needs her space to process whatever the result is.
The door opens slowly so I step back. Her eyes are watery and red-rimmed.
“All three were positive,” she says, eyes downcast.
My heart thuds once. Then again.
That makes it real.
Three.
Not maybe.
Not possibly.
Not let’s wait a few days and try again.
She’s having a baby.
We’re having a baby.
She’s having my baby.
And this—this—is a moment she’s going to remember.
My reaction.
I force a steady breath, plant my boots on the ground to anchor us both.
“All right,” I say, calm as I can manage. “That is big news. Thank you for telling me.”
A pause.
She’s waiting for more. Probably for the panic. For the man-shaped exit hole in the door.
But I don’t run.
I lean in. Wipe the tear tracks on her face with my thumbs.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “Whatever you decide, whatever you need, we got this.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “We do not got this, Isaac. You are way too calm. It’s unsettling.”
I exhale slowly. I know her well enough to know her walls are about to go up and the claws are likely coming out. “I’m trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.”
“And what would the wrong thing be?”
“Anything that doesn’t start and end with whatever you need, I got you.”
She smiles, well, it’s a fraction of a smile. But it’s not nothing.
Before I can pull her into my arms, we both jump at a knock at the front door. I glance over my shoulder then back at her.
“Expecting someone?”
She points to her stomach. “Well, I am now.”
I don’t dare laugh, but God, I fucking love her. I love that she made a joke when I know she wants to break down.
Maybe that’s how we do this, we have each other’s back and make each other laugh. I’d like to think this is my influence as she wasn’t particularly funny when we met.
“Stay put and I’ll see who it is,” I tell her.
Her eyes go wide. “And how are you going to explain what you’re doing here? What if it’s Wes or Darren?”
I can’t help the grin that escapes. “Baby, respectfully, we’ve got bigger issues at the moment.”
She still looks nervous, so I try again. “I’ll tell them my mom sent me to check in on you since you weren’t feeling well.”
She nods, which I take as permission to head to the door.
On the other side of it is my mom.
So much for my excuse.
Holding a mason jar and a dishtowel, she smiles warmly when I open the door. “Sorry to interrupt. I just brought that ginger lemon tea I make when you kids have upset stomachs. It’s still warm.”
We’re all fully grown now, but I know better than to correct my mother.
Her eyes bounce from me to Elena behind me. “I can see you two have it handled. I’ll just leave this and be on my way.”
Elena nods, blinking fast. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Logan. For the tea. That’s really thoughtful of you.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” she says gently. But just as I’m about to open the door to see her out, there’s another knock. Soft, but persistent.
I inhale deeply and open the door once more.
Ivy stands there looking concerned. “Hey, I just want to see how Elena was feeling.”
We’ve reached the portion of the evening where the whole damn Logan clan comes to check on her.
“Elena?” Ivy peers in, her smile softening when she sees Elena’s face. “Hey, hon. I’m sorry to bother you. I was just checking to see how you were holding up.”
“I’m fine,” Elena says quickly, voice cracking. “I’m okay.”
They both linger for a beat, but I tip my chin toward the door. “I’ve got her. She’ll be okay. I’ll keep you both updated. Promise.”
Mom presses the tea into my hand. “Warm this up a glass at a time and stir a teaspoon of honey in it while it’s still warm.”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ivy casts a long glance at me then Elena, then leaves arm in arm with my mom.
Once they’re gone, I close the door behind them and turn back to my stressed-out girl.
She’s curled on the edge of the couch now, knees pulled up, looking a million miles away.
“You good? Want some of this tea now or later?”
She shakes her head. “That was weird. Do you think they suspect something?”
I set the tea on the table and lower myself beside her. “Not at all. Meddling and caretaking are pastimes we take very seriously in this family.”
“I’m not used to people…” She swallows. “Taking care of me.”
“I figured,” I say, nudging her shoulder with mine. “But it’s not a bad thing, you know. Letting people in. Long as they’re good people.”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re scared. Fierce. Tired. Worried.
“Let’s take tonight,” I say. “No decisions. No plans. You just rest. I’ll sleep on the couch. Keep an ear out in case you get sick in the middle of the night. You need anything—tea, trash can to puke in, someone to yell at—I’m your guy.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” I say softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, “We’ll have dinner at my place and talk. I’ll order in so my cooking doesn’t nearly kill you.”
She lets one side of her mouth lift. “We both know it wasn’t the food.” She shudders. “But actually, maybe no more eggs or bacon or anything with grease or a smell.”
I press a kiss to her temple, and her whole body relaxes.
“Tofu tacos it is. For now, let’s see if you can hold this tea down.”