Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“We’re both kind of in shock,” Wynter offers. “I was told because of the PCOS, it could take years and his count is low and…”
The doctor shrugs. “You were ready at the right time and his sperm was at the right place. You made a baby.”
Something in my heart cracks wide open and joy fills me. We made a baby. I made a baby with the most beautiful woman in the world. Now if I can just convince her to give me a second chance, everything will fall into place.
Wynter made a follow-up appointment before we left, and I stepped outside while she did. I made a quick phone call to the new station to let them know I couldn’t accept the job.
Then I called the office manager for my new apartment and told her I had to break the lease. I’ll pay a lot of money to get out of it, but I don’t care. I’ll even have to look for a new job, something outside of firefighting. It doesn’t matter. All of my priorities have shifted. The most important thing in my life is taking care of Wynter and our unborn child.
Now, it’s oddly quiet in my truck. I’ve been driving back from the doctor’s appointment for an hour and she hasn’t said a single word. Not once since the doctor told us we made a baby.
When I spot the park on the side of the street, I make a split-second decision. It’s deserted in the early afternoon, but that only makes it better.
“Come on, stretch your legs,” I urge when I come around the side of the truck to open her door.
She blinks at me unseeingly. It’s not lost on me just how much of her life changed at the doctor’s appointment.
I’m in my thirties and ready to settle down with a family. But Wynter is still young. She has so much of her career ahead of her. Right here and now, I vow that I’ll find a way to make sure she gets to keep hers. I won’t let anyone tell her that she has to choose between her professional ambitions and raising a happy, healthy child. She’ll have the support she needs every step of the way.
I grasp her elbow and help her out of the truck. She’s so much smaller than me and she’s going to grow another person. A person that’s half me and half her, the realization floors me.
Gently, I guide her to a bench in the park and tug her down next to me. The breeze blows and brown leaves from the trees float in the wind. She shivers and I wrap my jacket around her shoulders. It gives me a thrill to see it around her, to know something of mine is keeping her warm.
When she still doesn’t say anything, I thread my fingers through hers. “Talk to me, baby girl. Let me in.”
“I’m scared,” she finally admits.
For a moment, I consider how scary pregnancy has to feel and she doesn’t have any family around her. Well, except for me and the crew. We’ll stand by her, no matter what. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”
“Maybe I should stay with my parents,” she says softly. “They’d be supportive, and I’d have shelter and food. There’d be a lot to be thankful for.”
Why does she sound like she’s trying to talk herself into this? I scramble for what to say. I don’t want her taking our child far away and leaving me. Still, I could follow. I was already willing to give up my job. “Where are they?”
“The commune in Kentucky.”
My stomach flips. That doesn’t sound like a good thing. “What is that?”
She shrugs. “It’s like a tiny religious town. You know, God is angry at us unless we give up all contact with the world and share our possessions with each other. That sort of thing. You get to live in a house, but nothing’s really considered yours.”
“And you want to go back there?” I work to keep my voice neutral. Flipping the fuck out is probably not the right approach. But I don’t want my kid being raised around the idea that anyone is angry with him.
“I don’t know what I want. I mean, it’s kind of a miserable way to live.” She wrinkles her nose, her freckles winking at me. I’m in awe of this woman’s strength. She left the only life she’d ever known behind and started over. She couldn’t have been more than a teenager when she did.
“I’m right here,” I reassure her again.
“Until you’re not.” The words aren’t hurled with any venom but that doesn’t ease the pain in my chest. She continues, “Most of the men there are angry and abusive. But not my father and he’ll love having a grandchild. So will my mom. I’m the only girl in the family.”