His Secret Older Woman Is Pregnant

Chapter 003 Levi

I toss the truck keys to Billy. He catches them without looking up from his hand. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve borrowed his truck to run errands or escape my own head. I think I’m home free, slipping out the front door into the humid night air, but the heavy thud of boots on the porch steps tells me I’m not escaping that easy.

"Levi, wait up."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, then keep walking toward the gravel drive. "I’m good, Nash. Go back to your game."

He catches up to me in three strides, his hand hovering near my shoulder but not quite landing. "Where you headed?"

I stop, kicking at a loose stone with the toe of my boot. "To be honest with you, I hadn’t quite figured that one out yet. I’m expected back at Shelly's place, I reckon. But Billy offered for me to stay here." I look out toward the dark silhouette of the barn. "I sure as hell don’t want to go home. Not with Mama crying and Daddy… well."

"Do you want to talk?" Nash asks.

I brace myself for the lecture, the big brother "I told you so," or the pity. But when I look at him, his face is stripped of that judgmental expression he wears like armor. The snark is gone. He just looks tired.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. "Tell me what’s on your mind."

Nash slides his hands into his back pockets, rocking back on his heels. The night bugs are screaming in the trees, filling the silence between us. "Well, I can’t say that I blame you for being a little bit freaked out. Hell, even with me and Braylynn being engaged, the thought of an unexpected baby would scare the pants off me." He flattens his hand against his chest. "And I know Shelly probably was nervous tonight. I can’t imagine she’s got quite that much of an attitude when it’s just you and her."

He’s taking the high road. That’s Nash for you. Even when our world is burning down, he’s the one trying to organize the bucket brigade.

"I appreciate that," I say, and I mean it. "And, no, she was nervous. Given that she’s just found out she’s pregnant and all. If you want my opinion, I’d say she’s probably shaking in her boots right about now. She’s still in school, same as me. This throws a wrench in everything."

"Maybe she won’t want to keep it," Nash says quietly. "How do you feel about that, Levi?"

The question hangs there, heavy and wet like the air. I shrug, looking away. "I’ve never given it any thought. I know I want kids someday. But I don’t know if that someday is now. I need to talk to Shelly. Feel her out. See where her head’s at." I run a hand through my hair. "Shame on me for leaving her alone tonight, but I think it was for the best. I was about to say things I couldn’t take back."

"Mama always says it’s better to gather your thoughts and talk it out than to fight over it."

I nod, my gaze dropping to the dirt. "Does everybody in there know?" I tip my chin toward the house, where the warm light spills out of the windows.

Nash nods, mirroring my posture. "It’s okay, Levi. It’s all going to come out in the open anyway. At least this way we can be civil about it, rather than what happened at dinner." He pauses. "Braylynn wanted me to tell you she's sorry. She’s sorry if she made it awkward. She’s just looking out for you, man. We all are. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll support you."

A lump forms in my throat, hard and sudden. I swallow it down. "All right, well, I best be on my way before you start getting sappy on me."

I don’t mention the girl I saw in the woods earlier. The blonde blur who ran from me like I was a monster. I’ve learned over the years that some cards are best played close to the chest. It’s a shame Shelly hasn’t learned that lesson; it would’ve saved us all a hell of a lot of heartburn tonight.

"Give me a lift to Shelly's?" I ask. "Since my truck is already over there."

Nash drives me in silence. That’s the thing I love most about my brother—he knows when to shut the hell up. We trade a short, firm handshake at the curb, and he watches until I punch the code into the door.

Inside, the house is quiet, but there’s a frantic energy vibrating in the air. I can hear footsteps thumping around on the second floor. My stomach gives a little lurch as I climb the stairs. I’m expecting tears, or shouting, or maybe just cold silence.

When I walk into the bedroom, it looks like a tornado touched down in her closet.

Clothes are everywhere. Stacks on the bed, a mountain of crumpled fabric on the floor, and about six piles of folded shirts lined up like bricks along the wall. Shelly is on her knees, digging through a bin.

"I couldn’t open my dang closet door, so I’m pulling all the shit out and re-organizing it," she says, not looking up. Her voice is tight, fast.

"Do you need a hand?"

"The empty bins in the hallway. Bring them in here. I’ll pack away the stuff I’m not using for now."

I watch her for a second. Is this nesting? Is she clearing space for a crib, or is she just trying to outrun her anxiety by folding laundry? Either way, it beats talking about the elephant in the room. I haul the bins in and help her sort through denim and polyester. We work in a weird, synchronized silence.

After an hour, she suggests a movie. We lie on the bed, the glow of the TV flickering over us, but neither of us is watching. I want to ask her a million questions—Is it mine? Are you keeping it? Who were you married to?—but the words die in my throat.

She falls asleep halfway through, her breathing evening out into a soft rhythm. I slide out from under her arm, needing to use the bathroom.

The bathroom light is harsh. I wash my hands, staring at my own tired reflection, and then my eyes drift to the little ceramic dish by the sink.

It’s empty.

The two rings—the engagement rock and the band that she usually keeps hidden in here—are gone.

I freeze, water dripping from my fingers. I check the drawer. Nothing. I check the cabinet. Nothing.

A cold prickle starts at the base of my neck. Why move them now? Did she think I saw them? Is she hiding evidence, or is she preparing to pawn them? What if she gaslights me later? What rings, Levi? You’re imagining things.

I walk back into the bedroom. Shelly is sound asleep, looking innocent as a lamb, but the air in the room feels suffocating. I can’t stay here. My skin is crawling.

I grab my boots and inch out of the room. I don’t breathe easy until I’m back in the cool night air, walking down the driveway.

The lights are still on at the resort house when I get back. Two strange trucks are in the drive—guests, probably. I slip into the back entrance where my room is. My things are there, freshly laundered, the bed made tight enough to bounce a quarter off of.

I sit cross-legged at the head of the bed, raking a hand through my hair, staring at the wall. I don’t know how much time passes before a soft tap comes at the door.

"Come in."

Piper’s head pokes around the frame. Her blonde hair is loose, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. "I saw headlights. Everything okay?"

If I told Piper I’d robbed a bank, she’d ask if I needed help burying the money. "If you want the truth, not really. I couldn’t stay there. We didn’t even talk."

She sits on the edge of the bed, patting my knee. "Maybe she’s not ready to talk either. It’s a shock, Levi. Life-changing. And from the sounds of it, y'all don’t know each other very well."

"We know each other well enough to get into this mess," I mutter.

"Sometimes even the strongest girls feel awkward talking about something unexpected," she says gently.

"So I’m a slimeball for leaving? Sneaking out like a thief in the night?"

"If she thought you were a slimeball, she wouldn’t have told you she was pregnant. And she wouldn’t have invited you in."

I lean my head back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, but when she wakes up tomorrow and realizes I’m gone... she’s going to think I’m a coward."

"I really don’t think so. Giving people space is sometimes the right answer. As long as you make yourself available tomorrow."

I chew on the inside of my cheek. The secret is burning a hole in my gut. "She moved the rings, Piper."

Piper frowns. "What rings?"

"The wedding rings. The ones she keeps in the bathroom. I went in there tonight, and they were gone. She was reorganizing her closet, sure, but she hadn’t touched the bathroom. Why move them? It freaks me out more than the baby does."

Piper sighs, her expression softening. "I wouldn’t worry too much about that. She probably realized it was risky leaving them out and moved them. If she’s a decent person, she’ll come clean. But if she is still married... do you know how you’re going to deal with it?"

I shrug. "It wouldn’t be a shock. She’s older than me. We aren’t serious."

"Didn’t she ask you to live with her?"

"It just sort of happened," I say, feeling the confusion swirl around me again. "I feel like a vagabond these days. Living part-time here, part-time at Shelly's, part-time at home. I’m living out of a duffel bag. It’s driving me nuts."

Piper chuckles softly. "Well, I can’t judge. When I met your brother, I was living in my car."

"Funny thing is, when I’m here at the ranch, I feel at home. That’s why I came back."

"This is your home for as long as you want it," she says firmly. "Billy’s even been talking about building quarters for the ranch hands. He says he should’ve done it a long time ago. But with the resort house... well."

"I’d love to help build it."

"I’m sure he’d love that." She stands up, smoothing her shirt. "Get some rest, Levi. It’s been a long day."

"Thanks, Piper."

She closes the door, and for the first time all day, the knot in my chest loosens enough for me to close my eyes.

Morning comes before I’m ready for it. I check my phone—no text, no voicemail from Shelly. The silence makes me nervous, but it’s too early to call.

I find Billy in the barn, organizing tack. The smell of leather and hay grounds me. "Do you need anything in town?" I ask, grabbing a bridle to clean.

"Got a list for the hardware store," Billy says, tipping his Stetson. "But first, Jade and Crystal have breakfast ready. Nothing’s open for another hour anyway."

We head inside. The kitchen smells like bacon and strong coffee. We eat quickly, the way men do when there’s work waiting. Once the girls clear out, I lean back in my chair.

"Piper says you’re fixing to build a house for the help?"

Billy nods, nursing his mug. "Architect who designed the resort house is looking for more work. Figure it’s high time. Bookings are filling up, Levi. This place is going to turn over some decent revenue. We’re going to need hands on site 24/7."

"I’d love to help you, Billy."

"You sure that ain’t going to interrupt your studies?"

I hesitate. This is something I haven’t told many people. "Not at all. I chose the program that way. You might think it’s odd, but I’m in an architectural program. Accelerated." I lower my voice. "Don’t go telling the boys. Or my daddy."

Billy frowns, pulling his hat off and running fingers through his hair. "You should be proud, Levi. That’s a hell of a thing. You wouldn’t believe what I’m paying this architect for drawings. If I’d known you were doing that, I might’ve held off."

"I’ve still got a long way to go. Only got one year under my belt."

"If there’s anything I can do to help, you name it. I’ve got enough land up here to build some cottages, too. Maybe by then you’ll be ready to design 'em."

A flush of pride hits me. "Sounds good to me." I stand up, taking my plate to the sink. "I’ll head into town now."

"Take the truck."

The hardware store is the first thing open in Copper Cove. I toss the supplies into the bed of Billy's truck, then find myself walking down the street toward the waterfront. The air is still cool, the sun just starting to burn off the mist.

I stop in front of the antique shop. It’s not open yet, but there’s movement in the photography studio next door.

I freeze.

It’s her. The mystery blonde from the woods.

She’s inside, moving large framed photographs from the floor to hooks on the wall. The "Closed" sign is still up, but the lights are on.

I step closer to the window, feeling like a creep, but I can’t look away. It’s been years since I’ve paid attention to this place. Buddy Wilson used to use it for storage, but now it looks like a high-end gallery.

The girl is oblivious to me. She’s focused, her movements precise as she dusts a glass frame and centers a photo on a mat. She’s wearing a loose shirt, her hair tied back, and she looks… peaceful. Completely in her own world.

"You looking for something?"

The voice barks from behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

I spin around. Buddy Wilson is standing there, grinning like a possum.

"How’s it going, Buddy?" I manage, trying to slow my heart rate. "Figured I’d come see the place since I was in town."

"Come on in. I’ve got the best dang vintage coffee maker in here. Make you a cup you’ll never forget."

"Fancy that," I chuckle, following him as he unlocks the antique shop door.

The smell hits me instantly—old paper, dust, and varnish. It smells like a library, or maybe like history. "My meemaw used to love antiques. Her whole house was loaded with them."

"You realize they probably weren’t antiques back then, right?" Buddy teases, flipping the sign to 'Open.'

"Suppose you got me there." I hop up onto an old metal school desk in the corner. It creaks under my weight.

"Careful with that. Getting the bolts tightened. Nobody wants antiques in their original state unless they’re flawless, which is next to impossible." Buddy busies himself behind the counter with a glass carafe. "Word is you’re in school?"

News travels fast in this town. Faster than fiber optics. "Yeah. Architecture out in Dallas."

"That’s a fine thing. Your daddy know?"

"No, sir. I wouldn’t dare tell him."

"Word’ll get to him eventually."

"A lot of good it’ll do him. He can climb up on his soap box all he wants, but I’m not the one in jail."

"Good point, son." Buddy hands me a mug of black coffee. "Now, taste this. You won’t get better anywhere else."

I take a sip. It’s strong enough to strip paint, just how I like it. "It’s real good, Buddy."

"It’s not the coffee, it’s the machine. Tell the rich folks at the resort."

I take another sip, glancing toward the connecting wall that leads to the studio. "How’s it going with the photo shop next door?"

Buddy’s face lights up. "Oh, shoot, my manners. You want me to introduce you to Lennie? You’ve got to see her work."

Lennie. So she has a name.

"Sorry, Lenora. Lenora Whyte. She’s a photographer and an artist. Does oil paintings, too. Imagine a girl with that much talent right here in town." He shakes his head.

"I, um... I think I might have already met her."

Buddy raises a brow. "How’s that?"

"It was the strangest thing." I trace the rim of the mug with my thumb. "I saw her with a camera on Billy’s property last night. I called out to her, tried to tell her she was trespassing. She ignored me. Kept walking like she didn’t hear a word. When I got close, she bolted. Ran like the wind."

Buddy sets his coffee down, his expression turning serious. "I’ll have to have a word with Billy about the trespassing. Lennie, see, she’s a wanderer. That’s how she gets those shots."

"I didn’t tell Billy," I say quickly. "You can save yourself the trip. But it doesn’t explain why she ignored me."

Buddy licks his lips, looking a little uncomfortable. "That there is somewhat complicated. I’m surprised word hasn’t gotten around to you on that score yet."

"What’s that?"

He clears his throat. "Well, see, Lennie can’t hear anything, Levi. She’s deaf."

The words hit me like a physical blow. The silence in the woods. The way she didn’t flinch when I shouted. The intensity of her focus through the window just now.

"Deaf?" I repeat.

"Stone deaf," Buddy confirms. "She reads lips like a hawk, but if her back was to you... she didn’t know you were there until you were right on top of her. You probably scared the life out of her."

Guilt washes over me, cold and sharp. I chased a deaf girl through the woods because I thought she was being rude.

"Well," I say, looking back toward the studio window. "That changes things."