Chapter 25 #2
My heart rate kicked up without knowing why, adrenaline flooding my system in response to a threat I couldn't identify.
The front door opened, and Chester immediately bounded over to greet them, his tail wagging enthusiastically like he always did when Harper came home. Harper gave him a distracted pat, her attention somewhere else entirely, her eyes scanning the room until they found me.
Then her eyes found mine across the space of the house, and I saw it.
Absolute terror.
Not the everyday fear that had become her constant companion since the threats started. This was something else. Something bigger. Something that made my protective instincts surge even as I had no idea what I was protecting her from.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was girl talk?” I tried to keep my voice casual, normal, even though every instinct screamed that something was wrong.
“Connor.” My name came out cracked, broken, her voice shaking. Her hands were trembling at her sides. “Can we talk? Alone?”
Ice flooded my veins. This is it. This is her leaving. She's finally had enough of the threats and the fear and living with me in the middle of nowhere, and she's going to tell me she needs space or needs to leave.
“Of course. What's wrong?” I moved toward her automatically, needing to be closer even if she was about to destroy me, needing to touch her even if this was the last time.
“Outside?” She gestured toward the back deck, not meeting my eyes, her gaze fixed somewhere around my chest. “On the porch?”
“Sure. Whatever you need.” Anna turned and left for her car after giving Harper a small smile that made my anxiety somehow worse. I watched through the window as her car drove over to the barn to pick up Jaxon.
Then it was just Harper and me.
I followed her through the sliding door onto the back deck, the afternoon sun warm on my face, the smell of pine and horses and the distant scent of soup cooking inside mixing together. Everything exactly as it should be.
Except Harper was terrified, and I had no idea why, and my chest was so tight I could barely breathe.
I turned to face her with my hands in my pockets because if I didn't put them somewhere I was going to reach for her and maybe she didn't want that right now. I tried to look calm even though my heart was pounding hard enough to hurt.
“Harper, you're scaring me. What's going on?”
She took a breath that shook. Then another that shook worse. Her hand moved to her pocket, gripping something hidden there with white knuckles. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears when they finally met mine, and I saw fear, hope, and terror all tangled together.
“I'm pregnant.”
The words hung in the air between us like something physical.
Time stopped.
My brain stuttered, trying to process what she'd just said, trying to make the words make sense. I stared at her, eyes blinking slowly as my brain caught up with my ears.
“You're—” I couldn't finish the sentence. My mouth had gone dry, my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my temples. “Pregnant? You're sure?”
She pulled something from her pocket with a shaking hand that could barely hold it, holding it out to me like evidence. A small white stick with a window showing two pink lines that were unmistakable even from three feet away.
A pregnancy test.
A positive pregnancy test.
The world shifted on its axis, gravity changing direction.
I took the test from her with hands that weren't quite steady, staring at those two pink lines like they might rearrange themselves if I looked long enough, like reality might shift back to what I'd known five seconds ago before everything changed.
But the lines stayed. Clear and absolutely undeniable.
Harper is pregnant.
We're having a baby.
I'm going to be a father.
The realization hit in waves, each one bigger than the last, each one pulling me under before I could surface.
Terror first because we weren't ready, we'd only been together a few months, there were people actively trying to hurt us, and now there would be a baby to protect.
Then disbelief, this couldn't be real, couldn't be happening, not now, not like this.
Then something else. Something that started small and grew with every second I stared at those pink lines.
Awe.
Pure, overwhelming, incandescent awe that made my chest tight and my eyes burn.
“We're having a baby,” I said, and my voice was wonder-struck like I was announcing a miracle instead of stating a fact. “Harper, we're having a baby.”
“Yes.” Tears were streaming down her face now. “Connor, I'm so sorry. I know this isn't what we planned. I know the timing is terrible and everything is complicated and you didn't sign up for this—”
I didn't let her finish.
I crossed the distance between us in two strides and pulled her into my arms so fast she gasped, lifted her clean off her feet because I needed her closer, needed to hold her.
Spun her once in pure, uncontainable joy before setting her down carefully.
So carefully, like she was made of glass and precious things, like she was carrying something fragile we had to protect. Because she is.
“Sorry?” I cupped her face in both hands, making sure she was looking at me, making sure she saw every emotion flooding through me like a river breaking its banks.
“Harper, why would you be sorry? This is—” My voice broke, thick with tears I wasn't ashamed of, tears that were already falling.
“This is the best news I've ever gotten. We're having a baby.”
“But the timing—”
“Fuck the timing.” The curse was emphatic, punctuated by a kiss to her forehead, her temple, her cheek.
“Yes, things are complicated. Yes, we're dealing with threats all of it. But Harper,” I pulled back to look at her fully, my thumbs brushing away her tears even as my own started falling, mixing with hers.
“We're having a baby. A baby. Do you understand what that means?”
“That our lives are about to get infinitely more complicated?” Her voice was small, uncertain, still waiting for me to realize this was a mistake.
I laughed. Bright and genuine. Full of more joy than I'd felt in months, maybe years.
“Yes. But also that we're creating a family.
That there's a future we're building together, something permanent and beautiful.
That nine months from now, there's going to be a tiny person who's half you and half me. How is that anything other than amazing?”
Her face crumpled, fresh tears spilling over, but this time I saw relief breaking through the fear. Saw hope pushing through the terror like sunlight through storm clouds.
“You're really happy?” Her voice was so small, so uncertain, needing reassurance I would give a thousand times without hesitation. “Connor, you're really happy about this?”
“Harper Walsh, I am fucking thrilled.” I kissed her then, deep and thorough and full of promise, full of every emotion I didn't have words for.
When I pulled back, I knew my eyes were wet, knew I was probably grinning like an idiot, and I didn't care.
“I love you. I love you so much. And I already love this baby.”
Something in her expression shifted, the tight, terrified look finally easing like a knot coming undone. Replaced by something softer. Something that looked like the beginning of hope, of belief that this might actually be okay.
“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the words. “And I'm scared, Connor. I'm terrified. But I'm also,” her hand moved to her still-flat stomach, protective and unconscious. “I'm happy. Really, genuinely happy.”
“Good.” I covered her hand with mine, both of us touching the place where our baby was growing, where something impossible and perfect was happening right now. The miracle we'd created without even trying. “Because we're doing this. And it's going to be amazing.”
A baby.
We were having a baby. In the middle of chaos and uncertainty a perfect, tiny miracle that would change everything.
We stood there as the sun filled the sky, both of us marveling at the life we'd created, at the future we were building whether we were ready for it or not.
Our baby. Our future. Our family.
And for the first time since Harper's apartment had burned, since this nightmare had started, I let myself believe in happy endings. Because we were going to have one. We had to.
I'd make damn sure of it.