I turned, walking fast, each step fueled by fury, by heartbreak, by the wildfire clawing up my throat.
Nick followed. “I know, okay? I know I fucked up. But I’m here now. I’m trying. Just—let me in.”
I didn’t stop. “Too late.”
“It’s not too late, Mel,” he pleaded, catching my arm and spinning me to face him.
His eyes were wild, burning, begging. “Just admit you still need me.”
Something inside me cracked wide open.
I laughed—a bitter, broken sound—and let the fire pour out. “I don’t fucking need you.” My voice shattered, but I pushed through it. “I don’t need anyone. My mom walked out on me when I needed her most, and you did the same fucking thing. So no, I don’t need you, Nick.” My throat tightened as I forced the words out. “You wanted me to do this on my own? Congratulations. I’m doing it. Giving you exactly what you want.”
I yanked my arm free and started up the porch steps. The silence afterward wasn’t quiet—it pulsed, raw and bleeding between us.
Nick’s voice stopped me cold. “That’s not what I want.”
I hesitated, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.
His voice softened. “I want you, Melanie. And I’m sorry it took me hurting you to figure that out, but I’m not going anywhere.”
I turned just in time to see him jogging back toward his motorcycle. My heart clenched. Of course. The man couldn’t even handle being vulnerable for one fucking minute. I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms, but then I saw him bend down, grab a bag, and jog back toward me.
Panting slightly, he held it out. “I got you this. It’s part of my apology.”
I just stared at him, my chest tight, my emotions a tangled mess.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “I’m not good at this relationship stuff. I’ve never really been in anything serious before. And the thought of being a dad? Normally, that would scare the hell out of me.” He swallowed, his voice thick with emotion. “But with you, Melanie… What scares me more is doing life without you. No matter what gets thrown our way.”
Our eyes locked, his flickering back and forth between mine, searching for something.
“When I lost Chaos, I felt like a part of me died.” His voice wavered slightly, and it hit me how hard that loss had been for him. “And the thought of having a kid scares me because I never want to feel that way again. If I could fall apart over a dog, how the hell am I supposed to bring a child into this world? What if something happens to them? What if someone is cruel to them? I mean, fuck, I’m more worried about going to jail for killing some asshole who hurts our kid.”
A small, choked laugh slipped out of me, a tear streaking down my face.
Nick took a deep breath. “I freaked out, and I’m so fucking sorry. But that’s why I got this—to show you I’m here. I’ll be here through it all. And I don’t want a divorce, Melanie.” His voice dropped lower, more raw. “I want to build a family with you. I want to make grilled cheese sandwiches in the middle of the night. I want to go to church and then have dirty, sinful sex afterward.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, even as more tears fell.
He smiled, brushing a tear from my cheek. “I want to take Loco to the dog park and have picnic days while we watch your belly grow. I want all of it.”
I swallowed hard, my hands shaking as I reached for the bag. I yanked out the tissue paper and let it fall to the ground. My breath hitched. Inside were two tiny military-style outfits—one for a boy, one for a girl. Each came with a pair of little boots.
I lifted the girl’s set first. The tiny jacket and pants were pink camouflage, complete with a matching hat. My vision blurred with tears. My fingers trembled as they skimmed over the soft fabric. The tiny outfit felt impossibly light in my hands, yet the weight of everything—Nick’s fear, my own uncertainty, the unknown shape of our future—settled over me like a storm cloud, thick and suffocating.
But the question clawed at me, sharp and relentless. Was he doing this because he thought I was pregnant? Or because he actually wanted this? I swallowed past the tightness in my throatand slid the outfit back into the bag, forcing my emotions down with it. Handing it back to him, I managed a tight smile. “Thank you. This was sweet, really. But… lucky for you, I’m not pregnant.”
Nick took the bag slowly, his fingers hesitant, his expression shifting—was that sadness? My stomach clenched. Shouldn’t he be relieved? Shouldn’t he be jumping for joy?
His lips parted slightly, almost as if he’d forgotten how to speak. “You’re not?”
“No,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself as a sudden chill seeped into my bones. “I took two tests, both negative. And according to Mr. Future OBGYN, taking them first thing in the morning detects the HCG hormone best, so there’s no mistaking it.”
I expected him to relax, to exhale in relief. But instead, his jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry, Melanie.” His voice was rough, edged with something raw. “I just… I assumed you were.” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “Because it felt like you could be. It felt real.”
A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. “Nope. I’m as pregnant as an eighty-year-old woman.”
