10. Catalina
Catalina
“ B aby?”
Carter sits up instantly, “What’s wrong?”
I set the bag down on the coffee table, avoiding his gaze. “I, um… I got tests. Will you—” My throat tightens, but I push through. “Will you sit with me while I take one?”
Carter quickly stands up, crossing the room in two long strides. His hand cups my cheek as his thumb brushes over my undereye. “Course I will, darlin’.”
He swoops me up in his arms in one swift motion, carrying me upstairs as he pecks kisses across my cheek down the slender slope of my neck, whispering in my ear.
“No matter what it says, baby, it’s okay, we can always try again.”
He pushes our bedroom door with his boot, gently setting me down on the edge of our bed. He lowers himself next to me, throwing his arm around me and shouldering me close to his chest.
I grip the test in my sweaty hand, Carter’s touch takes me out of my gaze as he leans down and kisses the top of my head.
“You don’t have to do this right now,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Ain’t no rush.”
“I know,” I whisper, staring at the little stick. “I just… I needed to know, even if it’s nothing.”
He squeezes me closer. “Whatever it says, it doesn’t change a thing. You hear me? You’re mine, Catalina. Baby or no baby.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I nod, slipping out of his hold, sauntering on to our bathroom.
Three minutes pass, more like three centuries pass by. Nerves coil in my lower belly, making my skin tingle and my chest flutter.
Carter waits just outside the door, leaning against the wooden frame, silent but present.
I finally pick the pregnancy test, my stomach dropping when I see the result.
Negative.
Just one lonely line staring back at me.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening, and push the door open. Carter looks up, searching my face before his eyes fall to the test in my hand.
His arms are around me before I can even blink, pulling me against his chest. “I’ve got you,” he says into my hair, strong and steady while I sag against him. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll try again.”
I clutch his shirt, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. “I just… I thought maybe?—”
“I know, baby,” he whispers, kissing the crown of my head. “And one day, it’ll happen. But whether it’s now or later, it doesn’t matter. You’re already everything I’ve ever wanted.”
My heart cracks and mends in the same breath, because even with disappointment sitting heavy in my chest, I believe him.
Carter holds me until my breathing evens out, his big hand rubbing slow circles on my back, steady as the heartbeat under my ear. I think he’s going to tuck me back into bed, tell me to rest, but instead he tips my chin up with his thumb, his blue eyes steady on mine.
“C’mon, darlin’,” he says softly.
I blink, sniffling. “Where?”
He grabs his wallet off the dresser and tucks his hat under his arm. “To get you that iced matcha you love.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Carter?—”
“You think I’m lettin’ you sit here beatin’ yourself up?
Hell no.” He kisses my forehead, pulling me toward the door.
“We’re goin’ into town. You’ll get your fancy green drink, I’ll get my coffee, and then we’ll sit in the truck and you can tell me all the reasons Toffee is secretly plotting to kill Maverick. ”
I choke on a laugh, shaking my head as tears still dry on my cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he mutters, sliding his arm around my shoulders as we walk. “But I’m yours. Which means makin’ you feel better is my full-time job.”
I pad after him barefoot, still in the oversized T-shirt I slept in. He doesn’t comment as he grabs his keys from the hook and opens the front door for me, his palm steady against the small of my back as I step onto the porch.
The morning air is warm, heavy with the scent of grass and dust. I blink against the sunlight, feeling raw, but Carter is right there, guiding me down the steps.
He opens the truck door for me, lifting me up into the seat with one strong hand. “Seatbelt, darlin’,” he grunts, leaning across to pull it snug against me.
“Gotta keep you safe, baby.”
Fuck, he still gives me butterflies.
My eyes watch him as he rounds the hood and climbs in on his side. He glances at me, blue eyes soft under the brim of his hat. “Ready?”
I nod, even though I don’t feel ready for anything.
His truck rumbles to life, gravel crunching under the tires as we pull out of the drive. For a few minutes, neither of us talks. The radio hums low, some country ballad, and I watch the pastures blur by, my cheek resting against the cool window.
Carter’s hand finds my thigh, his rough palm warm as it squeezes once. “We’ll be okay,” he says, voice low but certain. “You and me, baby. Always.”
Something loosens in my chest, and I cover his hand with mine, intertwining our fingers together until we roll into town.
Hummingbird café comes into view, sitting on the corner in downtown Ruby Ridge. Carter parks his man truck, hops out, and is at my side in seconds, opening my door before I can touch the handle.
He offers his hand again, tugging me down carefully.
We walk in sync, hand in hand, until we’re met with the rustic, wooden brown door.
So chic.
Carter pushes the door open, his hand resting against the small of my back to guide me inside. Espresso and sugar invade my senses, making my mouth water.
“Table’s open there,” he says, tipping his chin toward a corner booth under the string lights.
I drift toward it, my fingers curling tight around the strap of my bag, and sink into the seat.
The little table wobbles until Carter steadies it with one big hand.
He reaches out, tilting my chin up to give me a quick kiss before he straightens, steps to the counter, and orders without looking back.
“Iced matcha, extra ice, pump of vanilla, with a straw,” he says, his voice steady and sure, like he’s said it a hundred times. He fiddles with his wallet, grabbing some cash before he adds. “Large black coffee.”
The barista scribbles on two cups, smiling at him, and he slides a bill across the counter.
From my spot in the booth, I watch the whole thing—his broad shoulders under his black tee, the way he adjusts his hat with a flick of his thumb, how he stands with that calm, grounded weight that makes everyone else in the room look restless.
When the drinks are ready, he grabs them both, balancing mine carefully so the ice doesn’t spill. He sets the matcha in front of me, with the straw already tucked in.
“Drink up, baby,” he drawls, sliding into the seat across from me. His knee bumps mine under the table, and he leaves it there.
I wrap my hands around the cold cup, the condensation slick against my palms, and take a sip. Sweet vanilla and matcha swirl across my tongue.
When I lift my eyes, Carter’s already watching me.
“You’re staring at me,” I say, dramatically, tapping my straw against the lid.
“Mm.” He takes a slow sip of coffee, never looking away. “Can’t help it.”
“Carter,” I groan, hiding behind my cup.
He reaches across the table, curling his fingers over mine where they grip the plastic. His thumb strokes the back of my hand.“I like watchin’ you when you’re happy, baby. That first sip always gets you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “You pay way too much attention.”
He smirks, leaning forward, his voice dropping lower. “That’s my job. Knowin’ you. Knowin’ what makes you smile, what makes you sigh, what makes you call me names in Spanish when I push too far.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me, shaky but real. “You really are so in love with me.”
“Yeah.” His grin softens, the tease fading into something tender. “Utterly, hopelessly, pathetically in love with you.”
I sip again, needing something to do with the sudden lump in my throat.
We finish our drinks slowly, the conversation drifting in and out, comfortable in the way only we can be. Carter doesn’t rush me. He never does. He sits there, making me feel like the world isn’t as heavy as it was an hour ago.
He finally stands, offering me his hand. I slide my hand into his, and he pulls me up with that effortless strength of his, tucking me close under his arm as we step out into the warm evening air.
Downtown is quiet, storefronts glowing softly under the last streaks of sunset. My iced matcha cup swings empty in my hand, condensation dripping onto my wrist. Carter takes it from me without a word, tossing it into the trash can by the curb before lacing our fingers together again.
We walk side by side toward his truck, gravel crunching under our boots. The air smells like honeysuckle and asphalt, sticky and sweet, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe.
At the passenger door, he pauses and turns to face me. His hand rises to cup my cheek, rough palm warm against my skin, his thumb brushing away whatever’s left of my tears. His blue eyes meet mine.
“Tomorrow’ll be a better day, darlin’,” he says softly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
My chest aches, but in a good way. I nod, leaning into his hand, letting him press a kiss to my forehead before he opens the door for me.
As I climb into his truck, I believe him because he’s Carter, and when he makes a promise, the whole world bends to keep it.