CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bryce
“It looks like a gummy bear,” I say, glancing up from the grainy black-and-white photo in my hand to where Leanne sits cross-legged on the couch with a plate of grilled cheese on her lap.
This is the second time I’ve delivered Whiskey Ditch, and I can sense it becoming a tradition. Whiskey Ditch date nights—except it’s not a date. This is just two people sharing a meal…
Oh, and having a baby together.
My heart constricts in my chest as I stare at the sonogram in my hands. There’s nostalgia in this moment, a heartbreaking remembrance of another so similar, but at the same time, it feels brand-new. This is our moment, mine and Leanne’s.
“Let me see it again.” She narrows her eyes. “I don’t remember it resembling anything of the sort.”
In two long strides, I’m holding the photo in front of her face. Her hands are wrapped around the greasy sandwich, and considering this is my copy of the sonogram, I don’t want fingerprints smudged all over it.
I’m probably too excited at the prospect of securing it to my fridge with a magnet.
She tilts her head side to side, deliberating, but a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth gives her away. “Yeah, I guess it does kind of look like a gummy bear.”
I bring the photo back in front of my own face, studying it from every angle. There isn’t much to see, with Leanne being only ten weeks along, but it’s there. A baby—a baby gummy bear maybe, but a baby nonetheless.
I hover my thumb over the grey blur of life on the page as if I could touch it. I still can’t believe this is happening.
When I look up, Leanne’s focus is pinned on me—her sandwich hovering by her mouth. It’s already half gone, which is good. She looks so much healthier than she did two weeks ago. There’s color in her cheeks again and the dark circles around her eyes aren’t so prominent.
Grabbing my own plate, I settle on the far end of the sectional.
There’s still distance between us and I wonder if we’ll ever get back to being as close as we were that night in the tent.
And I don’t just mean with sex. She let her guard down in a way I don’t think she does with many people, and I’m going to have to earn the opportunity to see her like that again.
“So, tell me everything about your appointment,” I say, leashing my desire for her to relay every single word.
I wanted to be there more than anything—yet again a trust we’ll need to work up to—but there was the faintest hint of cowardly relief when she told me no. It’s been a long time since I was in an OBGYN’s office, and there’s no telling how being there again might affect me.
But if she wants me to go with her in the future, I’ll figure it out—for her, for them.
“It was pretty straightforward… I think. I’ve never done this before,” she says, and I cringe internally because I have done this before—a fact she doesn’t know.
“But everything looks good. I, uh, explained my history,” she says, averting her gaze after a quick glance at me, “or lack thereof. But Dr. Davenport assured me everything looks normal—‘perfect’ was her exact word.”
I chortle, which earns me narrowed eyes from Leanne and a charged “What?”
“Sorry.” I wave a hand in apology. “I just have a hard time thinking of Becca as Dr. Davenport.”
Her eyes narrow further and she crosses her arms over her chest “What’s the story with you two? I tried asking at the end of my appointment, and she told me to ask you.” There’s an accusation in her tone that definitely doesn’t belong there.
“Relax, blondie,” I say, and she lobs her napkin at my head. “Sorry, old habits.” I smile at her, knowing the nickname doesn’t bother her as much as she lets on. “For all intents and purposes, Becca is like my sister.”
“Like a sister, how?” she questions. “Are you sure this isn’t a conflict for her? Won’t it be weird if—”
I shake my head. “It’s not. She’s thrilled to have you as a patient. If you really want to get technical… she’s my sister-in-law.” I wince, knowing the moment the words are out of my mouth that this isn’t going to go over well.
Leanne raises her eyebrows so high up her forehead I think they may disappear behind her hair. “Wait, you’re not… Tell me you’re not!” she exclaims, grabbing at my left hand.
I pull it back from her, offended she’d jump to that conclusion… even if I did tee it up for her. “No. Jesus, Leanne.”
“Well, you just told me Rebecca is your sister-in-law, what am I supposed to think?” she huffs, and her nostrils flare on a forced inhale. It reminds me of the way she looked when I asked her if my dick was going to be a problem the day we met.
I roll my neck and roughly say, “She is.” Everything about how I’m explaining this is wrong, but it’s not something I talk about often, and this whole situation is tangled up in a way I never could’ve imagined.
I hesitate for a beat, then force myself to meet her gaze.
“I was married to her sister. Sarah.” Her name is a soft whisper across the space between us.
“Was?” she asks, her voice dropping low in anticipation—all the harshness of the moment before is gone.
I nod but hold her stare. “She died.”
Her eyes squeeze shut and she shakes her head. Part of me wants to mimic the gesture—to shake off the fresh wave of grief that comes with sharing this part of myself with someone new.
“Shit,” Leanne whispers, and when she looks at me again, it’s with so much sympathy I feel it in my chest. “I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know… I mean, obviously I didn’t know, but I just…”
She pushes away her plate and swipes a hand across her face.
“Leanne.” I reach out and gently tug it down. She drops it to her lap with a sigh. “Of course you didn’t know. I probably could’ve brought it up differently.”
Her posture sags, and the gesture smarts. I don’t want her beating herself up over something she had no clue about.
“Really, Leanne, it’s okay. It’s been a long time.” My heart races at the realization I’ll have to tell her everything eventually. If she’s this shaken up over learning about Sarah, I can’t imagine how she’ll feel knowing I lost a baby at the same time.
“How long is a long time?” she asks cautiously, pulling her plate back toward her with a sniff. She keeps her eyes averted and I’m yet again wishing I could read her mind.
“Six years.” My gut clenches as I brace myself for the next question. The one I’m sure she’ll ask.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she offers a consoling “I’m really sorry, Bryce,” and reaches for my hand.
“Thank you,” I say, swallowing back the thick feeling coating my throat.
I should tell her now. I should get it all out in the open, all the hurting done at once, but things are still so tenuous between us.
And my anxiety over voicing it aloud, making the two things exist in the same space, has my throat closing up.
“You’re sure it’s not weird for you, or for Rebecca, that I’m her patient?” She twines her fingers in mine now and the closer contact grounds me. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have—”
“I’m the one who called her, remember? And though I’m sure she was the picture of professionalism with you today, I’m telling you she’s very excited to be your doctor.” I catch her eyes and hold them. “I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust her, so I wouldn’t have it any other way either.”
“She’s… excited?” Leanne asks, biting her lip. “But does she know we aren’t, like, together? I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.”
“Yes. She knows.” I hide the sting I feel at her words as best I can. Because I know this too, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different. I never pictured doing this—having a baby—from the sidelines. Or worse, from the stands. I want to be on the field. I want to be a teammate.
We might’ve started off on the wrong foot, and we’re still getting to know each other, but is the idea of us trying to be more to each other so wrong?
She’s clearly not thinking along the same lines as me though because she blows out a relieved breath. Then she tilts her head and looks me dead in the eyes. “When you say she knows… Do you mean she knows? Like she knows knows?”
I grimace and hope she won’t be mad I told Becca. “Yeah, she knows.” I scrub the back of my neck, avoiding her gaze.
“Bryce!” she shouts, making me flinch. I’m lucky she didn’t lob the pillow at me this time.
“I’m sorry. But like you said, I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.” The word wrong tastes like bile in my mouth. “I didn’t give her all the details, but she knows we met at the ranch at your sister’s wedding and that it was a one-time thing.”
She groans and falls sideways on the couch, burying her face in the cushion. It’s comical to see her react this way. It’s so… human.
“In the spirit of full disclosure,” I continue, grimacing, “you should also know that her parents own the ranch.”
She shoots up like a rocket, her eyes wide and her mouth agape in horror.
“What!?” she yells. I’m worried she might launch across the couch and strangle me.
“Yeah. They own the ranch and run all the actual ranch business: cows, horses, etc. I run the events business. They live in the big house up the hill from the event barn.”
“Are you… Seriously?” Her voice rises a full octave. “This is… Do they know!?” I’ve never seen her so flustered and embarrassed. Not even when she told me she thought I was a woman.
I laugh, unable to help myself. “God, no. And Becca won’t tell them. But I do plan to tell them about the baby. They’re my family. Always have been, always will be.”
She deflates and bites her lip. “What about your parents? Will you tell them?”
“They’re dead,” I say, striking yet another blow and leaving her stunned.
“But even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be in the picture.
” My parents are another topic I don’t really talk about.
But if Leanne and I are going to have a chance at being more than awkward co-parents, or whatever this ends up being, I know I’ll have to give her those details as well.
Tonight isn’t the right time to bare all my secrets, but I almost wish she’d dig. Keeping so much inside is making the anxiety tighten in my chest, because I do want her to know me.
She doesn’t push for more however, so I turn the subject around on her instead. “What about you? Have you told your parents yet, your sisters?”
She shakes her head and stares at her hands. “I haven’t. I’ve missed two family dinners since I found out. I’m just not sure I’m ready yet—to tell them.”
“I could go with you.”
The moment I blurt the words, my whole body goes rigid. That was probably the wrong thing to say. This independent, strong woman doesn’t need me there for something like this.
To my surprise, Leanne actually smiles and says, “Maybe. I’ll think about it. They just… They’re going to have a lot of questions, and I don’t know that I want to be as forthright about it with them as you were with Rebecca.” She glares at me, but there’s a small smile around her lips.
“Since you thought you weren’t able to get pregnant, this should be an exciting development once they get past the surprise of it, right?
” I muse, not thinking much of the question.
But Leanne shrinks into herself, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them like a life vest. I don’t understand her reaction. “Leanne?”
When she lifts her gaze, her eyes look flat and resigned. “They don’t know anything about that.”
I shift closer to her on the couch. “What do you mean?”
“Craig and I never told them we were trying.”
“But… They know what that asshole said to you, right? How he made you feel?” My muscles quiver under my skin at the thought of the prick. “They know…” But it dawns on me as her words sink in; if her family didn’t know they were trying, how could she have told them the rest? “Leanne?”
“They don’t know any of it.” She turns her head away and curls into herself, looking so small. Nothing should ever make this woman look small.
I don’t want to push—she didn’t push me—but I want to know what she told them and how she found the strength to get through the last several months while holding all of this on her own.
“I’m sorry,” I offer, knowing it’s not enough.
“You don’t have to be sorry. All of this is my fault,” she croaks.
“That’s bullshit, Leanne.”
She scoffs and brushes her knuckles across her cheek. Knowing she’s crying over that fucker makes me throw reason to the wind, and I close the distance between us and pull her into me. She doesn’t protest and settles into my arms like she was meant to be there.
Damn, I wish that were true.
“It’s not your fault he put all that in your head. He’s an insecure asshole who couldn’t stomach the possibility he might be as much or more at fault for you not getting pregnant.”
“But I didn’t have to believe him. I should’ve gotten tested, made sure,” she protests.
“That may be true. But when someone you trust tells you something, especially when you’re vulnerable, it finds a way of sticking with you, even if you don’t want it to.”
“But if I’d known, we—”
I cut her off. “We aren’t going to play the what-if game here. And we’re not putting all the responsibility at your feet. We both could’ve been more responsible that night, but we weren’t. I am equally responsible for this pregnancy.”
I pull back so I can look her in the eye and, in doing so, my hand slides from her back and ends up resting on her stomach.
My breath catches as old memories flood me, and I think I might never be able to breathe again as the onslaught takes over control of my body.
I’m both terrified she’ll pull away and that she won’t.
I want this too much, and I feel woefully unprepared for what that means.
She’s warm in my arms. Her skin is soft—a sliver of it slides against my palm where her sweater rises up. She isn’t showing and there’s nothing to feel yet, but a switch in my brain flips at being this close, at having my hand here, and in my head, I hear it: Mine.
This baby is mine. Ours. With a jolt of realization, I know I want her to be mine too. But I don’t think she’s ready for that. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever, and that crushing knowledge makes me put a few inches’ distance between us because our faces are too close.
She studies me, and her penetrating gaze is new and terrifying.
I begin to lift my hand from her abdomen, not wanting to take more than she’s willing to give, but she plants her own over it and holds it there.
She blinks but doesn’t break eye contact. “You really want this, don’t you? The baby…”
She has no idea.
“Yeah, Leanne, I really do,” I say, trying to infuse just how much into each word. What I don’t say is that I really want her too.