3. Trent
Trent
The first heavy snowfall of the season was coming down in thick, silent sheets, turning the gravel drive of my parents' house into a white blur. Outside, the temperature had plummeted. Inside, my skin felt as if it were on fire.
Kat was riding a team bus back from a road game in the middle of a blizzard, and I was spiralling.
She’d texted me three hours ago saying the highways were slick, and I hadn't heard from her since. My phone was sitting on the kitchen island next to my elbow, screen face-up, where I’d been staring at it for the better part of an hour.
Why hasn't she told me?
The question has been eating a hole in my stomach for two months now.
Ever since I’d found that small plastic stick tucked away in her bathroom, every interaction, every text, every kiss had felt like navigating a minefield.
I’d spent two months fixing things at her place, bringing her food, rubbing her shoulders, running her baths, trying to prove to her that I was a man she could rely on.
I’d made myself completely available. I hadn't missed a single beat. So why was she still keeping the biggest thing in our lives hidden from me? Did she think I’d run? Did she think I wasn't serious about us?
Of course not, I told myself, running a hand over my face.
She knew how I felt about responsibility.
She knew I wasn't the kind of guy to cut and run.
But the longer she stayed silent, the more my brain twisted itself into knots.
And what about appointments? I had to assume she had seen a doctor by now, the books and apps I had been looking at all said that she at the very least would have had a blood test to confirm, and depending on how far along she was when she took the test at least one ultrasound at this point, if not two.
"If you stare at that phone any harder, you're going to melt the screen," Gideon said, leaning against the counter and taking a long swig from his beer. My twin brother eyed me with that unnerving perception he only ever pulled out when I was losing my mind. "She’s on a charter bus with, like, thirty people, Trent. She’s fine. "
"The roads are shit out there," I muttered, my voice tight.
"She's a grown woman," Gideon pointed out smoothly. "She spent her whole life taking care of herself before you came along. Take a breath."
"That's not the point," I snapped, standing up and pacing toward the sink just to move, feeling like I was going to lose my mind.
"What is the point, son?"
My dad, Davis, walked into the kitchen, wiping wood chips off his flannel shirt from his workshop out back.
My mom, Cynthia, followed right behind him, wrapped in one of her favourite oversized cardigans.
Her eyes immediately darted between me and Gideon, with an odd tension that had been hanging over her all evening.
"You've been on edge all week, Trent," Mom said softly, stepping closer. "Is something going on between you and Kat?"
I looked around the warm, familiar kitchen, at my dad, solid and unwavering; at my mom, who had built our family on love and her steady presence; at Gideon, who was watching me thoughtfully. The tight band around my chest snapped. I couldn't keep carrying this alone in my head.
"She’s pregnant," I blurted out.
The room fell silent. Gideon’s beer stopped halfway to his mouth.
My dad slowly straightened his posture, his thick brows drawing together.
Mom gasped, her face draining of colour so fast I thought she was going to faint.
She grabbed the edge of the island; her knuckles white.
"She... what? Kat's pregnant? Did she… when did she tell you? "
"She didn’t! I found a test at her place two months ago," I said, my words coming out fast, breathless, the internal spiral finally spilling out. "I’ve been waiting for her to bring it up. I’ve been trying to give her space, but also show her I am in this with her…
trying to make things easier for her, showing up every day, in any way I could think of...
but she hasn't said a word. She’s acting like nothing has changed…
God… she’s on a bus in a snowstorm carrying my kid, and she hasn't even trusted me enough to tell me. "
Mom looked sick, her hands shaking as she looked between me and my dad. "Trent... are you sure? Maybe she isn’t…"
"I saw the test with my own eyes, Mom!" I rubbed the back of my neck, my thumb digging into the tense muscle. "Why wouldn't she tell me? What am I doing wrong?"
My dad stepped forward, his voice grounding. "Trent. Look at me."
I met my father's eyes.
"We do the right thing in this family," Dad said firmly, his tone leaving zero room for doubt. "If a child is coming, there is no stepping back. You step up. If she hasn't told you, ask yourself why. What have you done to make her feel secure in your relationship?"
"I’ve done everything!" I argued, frustration boiling over. "I fix whatever needs fixing at her house, I cook for her, I'm there every time she calls…"
"Actions are fine, son, but Kat doesn't have a safety net," Dad interrupted quietly.
"She doesn't have a family like ours to fall back on. She put herself through school, practically raising herself. She’s used to expecting the rug to get pulled out from under her.
You showing up to fix a few things around her house isn't going to convince a woman like that you're in this for life. "
The words hit me like a physical punch.
"Kat needs to know she’s one of us," Dad continued, looking over at Mom. "We already love her. She already has a great relationship with your mother. But if you want her to trust you with something this big, you have to show her that she doesn't have to carry the world on her shoulders anymore."
"You... you love her, right, Trent?" Mom asked suddenly. Her voice was shaky, almost desperate; her eyes were wide as she stared at me. "I mean... a baby is wonderful, but... do you love her? This would have happened eventually anyway, right?"
I hesitated for a fraction of a second. My brain scrambled over the word.
Love. We’d never said it. Before I had found the test, our relationship was simple, low-pressure dating, and now my dad was talking about family, security, and forever.
I cared about Kat more than anyone I’d ever met.
I wanted to protect her. I wanted to build a life where she never had to do everything alone again.
"Of course I care about her," I said, my voice thick, burying my hesitation under a wave of protective urgency. "She's everything to me."
Mom swallowed hard, taking a slow, shaky breath and looking away, nodding mechanically. "Okay... okay."
Dad clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. "So, what are you waiting for? When’s the wedding?"
"Dad, we aren't even engaged…"
"Then fix it," Dad said simply. "Go get a ring. Give that girl a home and a genuine commitment so she knows she’s never going to be on her own again. Show her she's a Prescott."
Gideon looked at me from across the island, his expression unreadable, but he gave a subtle, encouraging nod.
I looked down at my phone on the counter. The screen lit up with a new text from her.
Kat
The roads are terrible. We’re moving slowly. Be home late. Don't worry about coming over tonight! xoxo
I stared at the words; her trying to be strong, trying not to burden me, carrying everything by herself.
I blew out a heavy breath. Dad was right.
Kat had spent her whole life relying only on herself.
She didn't know how to ask for help, and she was probably terrified to tell me about the baby because she thought I'd see it as a trap or a burden.
Where my dad had stepped up, hers had run in the other direction, and then her mom dropped her with a distant relative and never looked back.
Tomorrow, when she woke up, I’d make sure she never doubted her place in my life again.
Because as soon as the roads were clear and the shops were open, I was going to buy a ring.