38. Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Eight
Annie
The wind is howling through the trees, rain hammering against the windows like it’s trying to get in. But inside this room, inside this moment, everything is still.
Cole stares at me, his green eyes locked on the pregnancy test in my hand, his entire body tense.
I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. I just hold it up, let him see the result clear as day. Two pink lines.
Positive.
Cole stares at it. Then at me.
His throat works, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “Are you sure?”
His voice is quiet, controlled, but there’s something in it I can’t quite place. “Sometimes those things give false positives.”
I don’t answer.
I toss the test onto the chest at the foot of the bed and reach back into the bin.
And pull out another test .
Then another.
And another.
And one more, for good measure.
Until I have five tests lined up on the chest, every single one of them showing the same thing.
I watch as Cole’s chest rises and falls, his jaw tightening as he stares down at them. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for one, like maybe if he touches it, it’ll make this real. Or break the illusion.
I swallow hard. My voice is quieter now. “I’m sure.”
His eyes lift to mine, dark and unreadable.
Silence.
Cole’s expression doesn’t change. His stance doesn’t shift. But I can feel the weight of this moment settling between us, pressing down on my chest.
I don’t know what he’s thinking.
And that terrifies me.
I exhale, forcing myself to hold my chin high, to keep my voice steady. “Say something. Please.”
Cole’s eyes stay locked on mine, intense, unwavering. He’s quiet for a long moment, then he finally speaks.
“I need to sit down.”
And then, just like that, the man who never loses his composure—who always has a plan, always knows what to do—sinks down onto the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together as he stares at the floor.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what we do.
So I just stand there, my shaking hands, waiting.
After a long, silent moment, I take a breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”
“So what?” he asks, his voice careful and controlled. “You were just gonna sit on this by yourself?”
My jaw clenches. “Yes.”
His brows shoot up, and now there’s no mistaking the flash of frustration in his eyes. “Are you serious?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “What the hell was I supposed to do, Cole? Announce it at dinner?”
His expression hardens. “You should’ve told me.”
“Oh, yeah? Like you’re super open about your feelings?” I snap before I can stop myself.
His jaw tightens, and I can tell I hit a nerve. “This isn’t about me.”
“No, it’s about me,” I shoot back. “My body. My life.” I swallow hard, shaking my head. “This changes everything for me. For me, Cole.”
His entire body tenses at that, his hands flexing on his thighs.
“You think it wouldn’t change anything for me?” His voice is quieter now, but no less intense.
I let out a breath, closing my eyes for half a second before looking at him again. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice softer now. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
His brows pull together, and for the first time since I pulled out the damn test, his expression shifts from frustration to something else. Something I can’t quite name.
Cole exhales, dragging his hand through his hair. He’s always so controlled, so sure of himself, but right now, he looks like he’s barely holding on to his grip on reality.
I don’t know what to say. What can I say?
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. “Say something, Cole.”
He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh and shakes his head. “What do you want me to say, Annie?” His green eyes flick up to mine, sharp and searching. “That I expected this? That I have some perfect plan for how to handle it?” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Because I don’t.”
I cross my arms, trying to steady my breathing. “Yeah, well, welcome to my world.”
His jaw clenches, and for a long, heavy moment, neither of us speaks. The storm outside seems louder now, filling the silence between us, the wind rattling the windows like it’s trying to force its way in.
Finally, Cole sits up straighter, looking at me like he’s making some kind of decision. “How long have you known?”
I hesitate. “Since this afternoon.”
His brows pull together. “Earlier, when you went to the restroom, you were going to the pharmacy.”
“No, I went to the restroom. I passed the pharmacy. I knew something was off, but I didn’t— I don’t know, I didn’t let myself even think of this until the moment that I was walking past it.”
Cole drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “And you took five tests?”
A dry laugh escapes me. “I figured if I took enough, at least one of them would tell me I was wrong.”
He looks down at the tests still lined up on the chest, then back at me. “And when they didn’t?”
I swallow hard. “I obviously didn’t handle it well.”
Something shifts in his face. His frustration is still there, but it’s different now, more restrained. “And you still didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t know how,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Cole shakes his head like he doesn’t know whether to be mad or understanding. “Annie…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck.
Probably a situation where it’s pretty reasonable to be both. And yet…
I feel the frustration rising in me again, tightening my throat. “You think I wanted to keep this to myself?” I snap. “You think I enjoyed walking around all day with this in my head, trying to pretend everything was normal? I wasn’t ready, Cole. I needed time to process before—”
“You don’t trust me.” Cole leans forward again, elbows braced on his knees, his gaze locked on me.
I clamp my mouth shut.
“That’s not true,” I say, but it doesn’t sound as firm as I want it to.
He shakes his head. “You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d react badly. That I’d—I don’t know, push you away? Tell you this isn’t my problem?”
I don’t answer right away, because the truth is… yeah. Maybe.
“I didn’t know how you’d react,” I finally say. “I didn’t want to—” I stop myself before I can say face rejection.
But Cole hears it anyway.
His brows furrow, his mouth pressing into a thin line. He looks almost hurt, which I didn’t expect.
I shake my head to his unanswered question. “It’s not about that, Cole. It’s about—” I pause, struggling to find the words. “I’ve never had anyone to rely on when things go sideways. It’s always been me. So yeah, I was scared. I still am.”
His expression softens, but only slightly. “Annie…”
I shake my head. “I don’t need you to fix this. I don’t even know what ‘fixing’ it would mean.” A horrifying thought occurs to me. “And I’m definitely not ‘taking care of it’!” I snap.
Cole puts out both hands, palm up. “I never suggested that.”
I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “I know. I’m just… making it clear.” I drop my arms to my sides and droop my shoulders. “I just needed to figure out how I felt about it before I let anyone else in.”
Cole is quiet for a long time, his gaze flicking between me and the tests. He looks like he’s battling about twenty different thoughts at once, but finally, he nods.
“Okay,” he says.
I blink. “Okay?”
He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” His green eyes meet mine, steadier now. “But you should have told me, Annie.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “Yeah. I know.”
Another rumble of thunder shakes the room, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us is still heavy, but it’s shifting, changing into something I can’t quite define.
Finally, Cole leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “So…” He pauses, rubbing his hands together before looking up at me again. “What now?”
I let out a breath. “I don’t know.”
He nods like he expected that answer. “Do you—” He hesitates. “Do you want this?”
The question slams into me harder than I expect, even though I should’ve known it was coming.
I let out a breath, glancing away. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t had time to even let it sink in.” I swallow. “But I don’t not want it.”
Cole watches me carefully. He doesn’t say anything right away, just takes another long breath before nodding slowly.
“Okay.”
I study him. “And you?”
He’s quiet for a second, staring at the floor, his fingers tapping against his knee. When he looks up at me again, his eyes are steady.
“I don’t know either,” he says honestly. “But I know one thing.”
I brace myself. “What?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re not in this alone.”
Something in my chest tightens, and I have to swallow hard against the sudden pressure in my throat.
“You mean that?” I whisper.
He nods once. “Yeah, Annie. I do.”
I exhale slowly, nodding, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. On us. But somehow, knowing I’m not the only one carrying it makes it just a little easier to bear.
Suddenly, I don’t feel so alone.