Her jaw tightens. “So you’re mad now?”
“I’m—” I stop myself. Run a hand over my face. “I’m scared.”
That’s worse somehow, because her eyes drop and the silence thickens.
“You should’ve called me.”
“I didn’t need to,” she says quietly.
Bullshit.
“You’re burning the candle at both ends, Carina.”
She flinches, like I’ve slapped her. “So quit lighting the fucking match, Reid.”
I breathe out. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” Her voice goes flat. “Because it sounds a lot like I’m not capable of this.”
God, my chest hurts.
“That’s not what I meant,” I repeat, softer now.
She blinks hard and looks away. I let the quiet sit for a beat, then I stand and offer my hand.
“Come on.”
She frowns. “Where?”
“Scan’s not for an hour. We’ll drive slowly. Grab a danish on the way.”
“I have stuff to do—”
“I know,” I say. “But this matters too, and you know it.”
“Reid—”
“You need air, Havoc. And sugar. And not to pass out in front of your boss.”
That earns a reluctant twitch of her mouth, almost a smile. And after a second, she slips her hand into mine.
I pull her gently to her feet and let her steady herself. She’s warm and tense and still a little pale, but her grip tightens on mine before we step into the hallway.
As we walk past reception, Jenny’s head turns. Her eyes bounce from our joined hands to my face, then to Carina’s stomach. She doesn’t say anything, just watches.
And I couldn’t give one singular flying fuck.
Carina doesn’t notice, or maybe she does, but she’s too tired to care.
I open the truck door for her, wait until she’s settled, then round the front and slide in beside her.
The cab fills with a quiet hum and the late afternoon light. I reach for her hand again on the console.
“Raspberry or blueberry?” I ask.
She leans her head back against the seat and closes her eyes. Her fingers flex tighter around mine. “Are those my options for the pastry, or are you taking bets on our child?”
I huff a laugh. “Both.”
