Chapter 3
Lucy
The silence is deafening, screaming in my ears.
It's been three weeks since I got Caden's last letter. Three weeks since I heard his voice in my head through his words, since I felt that thread of him holding me together.
While remembering the rules of military life, I try not to panic. Mail is inconsistent. Deployments are chaos. But no matter how many times I repeat it like a mantra, my stomach keeps twisting. We went through this with Noah, and the next call we got was that he was injured.
Grace squeezes my hand as we sit in the OB's waiting room, her knee bouncing beside mine. The TV overhead plays some morning show neither of us is watching. My thoughts are too loud, the room too bright, and the air too tight.
"You okay?" Grace asks, her voice low.
I nod, but it's a lie. I haven't been okay since the letters stopped.
The nurse calls my name, and I follow her back. Grace comes too, holding my hand as I climb onto the exam table. Keeping my eyes on the ceiling, I try to breathe.
The doctor is kind. Her voice is soft as she talks us through the appointment. She asks me about my symptoms, my nausea, the fatigue, and then has me lie back as she gets the Doppler ready.
"Let's check in on baby," she says with a smile.
The cold gel on my belly makes me flinch. Grace leans closer, watching the screen with wide eyes. The Doppler whirs to life, static at first, and then there it is.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Fast and strong.
My baby's heartbeat.
A sound that punches the air from my lungs and fills my chest with something fierce and raw. It's real. This little life is real.
I press my hand to my mouth and cry silently while Grace squeezes my fingers.
"You hear that?" Grace whispers. "That's your little warrior. Just like their daddy."
The words crack something in me, and all I can do is nod, too choked up to speak.
The doctor continues the checkup, measuring the baby and pointing out tiny hands, the flicker of a heartbeat on the screen. Grace asks questions, and I try to focus, but my heart is still caught on the sound of that powerful heartbeat.
The doctor prints a couple of ultrasound pictures and hands them to me, smiling. "You're doing great, Lucy. Keep drinking lots of water and resting when you can. And we'll see you again next month."
I nod and slide off the table, my hands trembling as I zip up my hoodie over the curve of my belly. Grace wraps an arm around me as we leave.
We drive home in silence.
Grace rests her hand over mine on the console. "You don't have to say anything," she says. "Just know I'm here. Always."
Nodding, I stare out the window, my other hand protectively over my belly. I just need one letter. One sign. One anything from him.
As we pull into the gravel driveway, every nerve in my body goes on high alert.
Jake's truck is parked at an angle. Lexi's on the porch, pacing. Her phone is in her hand, and her other arm is wrapped around her midsection like she's holding herself together.
My stomach drops.
"Something's wrong," I whisper.
Grace and I rush up the steps. Lexi's face pales when she sees us. Her eyes meet mine, and I know. I know before she even speaks.
"It's Caden," she says softly. "Jake came over. His mom is meeting him here, so Noah can take them to the airport. Caden's critical and unconscious."
The world tilts beneath my feet.
Lexi grabs my hand and pulls me toward the porch swing. Grace hovers, eyes wide.
"He's on his way to Germany. He's stable, but it's bad. Burns. He lost a leg. His arm’s badly damaged. Jake's flying out there with their mom, and Brentley's meeting them after he gets ahold of North."
My knees give out, and I sink into the swing.
"He's alive?" I manage.
Lexi nods. "Yeah. He's alive. But it's going to be a long road."
The air shifts behind us, the screen door slamming open. Noah steps out, his face a mask of confusion and worry.
"What's going on? Why do you all look like someone died?"
Lexi opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Standing, I try to wipe the tears off my face.
"I just found out about Caden," I say brokenly.
Noah's jaw clenches. He looks at each of us, reading the panic, the grief. His eyes land on me and narrow.
"Why are you the one falling apart, Lucy? Why do you look like you lost your world?"
I go still. Grace shifts beside me.
"Don't," Lexi says quickly, stepping forward.
Noah's gaze hardens. "You've been crying for weeks. Sneaking around. You and Grace are going to appointments. What the hell is going on?"
I suck in a breath, but it's too late. He looks over at Lexi, and I can see it all click.
"You knew he was writing her," Noah says, his voice rising. "You knew something was going on. Didn't you?"
"Please don't do this right now," I whisper.
"You lied to me? You let my sister fall for a soldier?" Noah says to Lexi, ignoring me.
"It wasn't like that," I yell.
"You think I wouldn't notice the way you disappear after dinner? You think I'm stupid?"
"I didn't lie. I just... didn't tell you."
"That's the same damn thing, Lucy."
I stand up, my hands trembling. My voice shakes, but I make myself say it. It isn't the perfect time, but it's better to have the whole truth out there.
"He's the father of my baby."
Silence.
Noah stares at me like I've slapped him.
His jaw ticks. His eyes go cold.
"You're pregnant?"
I nod.
He jerks back, shakes his head, and stalks off the porch without another word.
Lexi curses, taking off after him.
Grace sinks down beside me, pulling me into her arms. I don't realize I'm crying until my face is wet against her shoulder.
"He'll calm down," she whispers. "He's just scared."
"I didn't mean for it to happen like this."
"You fell in love. That's not a crime."
We sit there until the sun sinks behind the trees, and the sky is streaked with orange and pink.
Lexi comes back eventually, and she hands me a bag.
"Girls' night. We're not leaving you alone tonight."
Grace grins. "I brought the foot soak. And the pickles."
"And I got the cookie dough," Lexi says. "We're going full cliché."
They lead me inside like I'm made of glass. We head right to the sunroom. Lexi's sunroom smells like vanilla candles and hope. There's a mountain of pillows and blankets piled across the couch and floor.
Paisley arrives with a stack of gossip magazines and an absurdly large bag of peanut M&Ms. Mandi shows up with face masks and fuzzy socks. Faith, late from her shift at Oakside, brings a still-warm box of cinnamon rolls that nearly makes me cry.
They don't ask questions, as I'm sure Lexi has filled them in. Instead, they take over. Lexi steers me into the comfiest chair, wraps a blanket around me, and hands me a cinnamon roll the size of my face.
Grace plops on the floor, opening nail polish like it's a normal Tuesday.
Mandi presses a cool mask to my forehead. "You look like you haven't slept in weeks."
"I haven't," I admit.
Paisley hums. "That tracks. So we're fixing that tonight. Step one: sugar. Step two: unsolicited advice. Step three: rage therapy, aka yelling at rom-coms."
Faith raises her hand. "I brought wine for everyone except the baby incubator. You get sparkling juice."
"Cheers," I whisper, and they raise their glasses.
It's not perfect. My heart still aches, and my eyes still sting. But for a while, I laugh. I cry. I eat three cinnamon rolls and let Mandi braid my hair while Grace paints my toenails purple.
I've seen these girls come together to help each other over the last few years, and for them to pull me into their circle like this, no questions asked, means so much to me.
And when Lexi pulls out the old karaoke mic from her wedding shower, and they start belting out '90s love songs, I finally feel like I can breathe again.
Even if just for one night.