Sunlight (Haven River Ranch)

I’m pregnant.

Two words in six weeks. Two fucking words.

I’m pregnant.

Those two words had been ringing in my head since Sasha had stormed back to her house an hour ago.

She’d gotten mad when I’d stood there, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Say something.

What had she expected me to say?

“We used condoms” clearly wasn’t the right choice because she’d leveled me with a glare before walking away.

Pregnant. She was pregnant?

“Fuck.” I reached for my tumbler, the ice rattling as I brought it to my lips. When I tipped it back, the bourbon inside was gone. “Shit.”

Time for another refill.

Rather than stand from the kitchen floor where I was sitting, I stretched for the bottle on the counter above my head. The lid was . . . somewhere. Whatever.

I didn’t need the lid. Not when I planned on finishing every last drop in the bottle.

With it pressed to my lips, I didn’t swig—I chugged. Bubbles rolled through the amber liquid. The alcohol burned a flaming trail through my chest, settling hot in my gut.

The liquor was supposed to be helping. Why wasn’t it helping?

I’m pregnant. Sasha’s voice was ringing in my head, really fucking loud. Sitting on my kitchen floor, working on a hell of a hangover, wasn’t helping either.

What was I supposed to do? Maybe West would know. My brother was good at this kind of emergency stuff.

My phone was on the other side of the living room, so leaving the bottle behind, I shoved to my feet, swaying slightly as I walked. Either the booze had kicked in fast, or I was still reeling from Sasha’s visit.

Probably both.

For six weeks I’d been waiting for her to knock on my door. To acknowledge my existence. But she’d avoided me entirely. She hadn’t breathed a word in my direction since the morning after the party when she’d asked me to forget.

Forget one of the best nights of my life? Nope. Forget my name on her lips? Not a chance. Forget how she felt in my arms? Absolutely not.

I didn’t want to forget, so damn it, I wasn’t going to forget. She couldn’t make me, so there. Instead, I’d given her time and space to miss me.

She’d missed me, right?

I’d missed her. Sasha and I were practically strangers, but I missed her. That was weird, right? What did that even mean? I’d never missed a woman I’d slept with before.

I missed the look on her face when she’d spotted me from a distance, and for a split second, before she could hide it, her eyes would go all soft and sparkly. I missed the way she laughed. I missed the way she scowled.

Why couldn’t she just admit that she liked me? She liked me. She had to like me, right?

How could she forget our night together? I’d been playing it on repeat for six freaking weeks. Over and over and over. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t get that woman off my mind, no matter how hard I’d tried.

There was something between us that felt . . . different. Important. There was a spark. A connection. A potential.

And . . . a baby.

What. The. Fuck?

We were seriously having a kid?

I was halfway to the living room when I veered off course, changing paths for the door. The bourbon seeping into my blood made hopping into my boots a challenge, but after I crashed into the wall twice, they were on my feet, my jeans bunched around my calves. I yanked open the door, slamming it behind me as I followed Sasha’s path through the snow.

The cold wasn’t as sobering as it should have been. Halfway to the cabin, I lost my balance and slipped, crashing to my hands and knees. But I managed to stand, and when I finally made it to the cabin, I braced an elbow on the door’s frame to hold me up as I knocked.

No answer.

Goddamn this woman. I knocked again. “Sasha.”

Her feet pounded on the floor before she ripped the door open.

There was a toothbrush in her mouth. Her hair was tied up in a messy knot, and she was dressed in a pair of faded black sweatpants and a green tank top that molded to her breasts.

There was a gray pallor to her face. Her cheeks looked sunken. Her eyes were red rimmed and tired.

“You look like hell.”

Sasha yanked the toothbrush from her mouth, her lip curling. “That’s what you come over here to tell me? That I look like hell?”

“You do look like hell. And you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

The fury on her face vanished, pink rising in her cheeks.

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you sick?”

“Sick.” She popped the toothbrush back in her mouth as she shifted to the side so I could come in.

As I shut the door and wrangled my boots off my feet, she disappeared down the hallway, probably to the bathroom.

I wandered into the living room and took a seat on the couch. The house smelled like her. Sweet and fresh and unique. A scent that was only Sasha. I’d missed that smell.

With my elbows on my knees, I dropped my face into my hands and scrubbed. The liquor was soaking in, making the world fuzzy at the edges.

Sasha came back, without the toothbrush, and sat in the oversize chair on the other side of the room.

“I’m drunk,” I announced.

“Fantastic,” she deadpanned, tugging idly on an earlobe.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” she muttered.

“Pull on your ear.”

She stopped instantly, her hand falling to her lap like she didn’t even realize she did it. Maybe it was a nervous habit. Something she did when she was anxious or uncomfortable. “What do you want, Jax?”

I stared at her, wishing I knew what the hell I should say. “We used a condom.”

“Back to that again, huh?” She hugged her knees to her chest. “I’m aware we used a condom. Multiple condoms. One of them didn’t work.”

She rested a cheek on her knee. She looked small. Exhausted. Withdrawn. The more she curled into herself, the more I regretted that bourbon. With every passing second, she was shutting me out, and my head was too muddled to stop it.

“Sasha.”

Her eyes flickered to mine.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

I gave her a sad smile, then lay back, resting with an arm behind my head. The couch was too small, and my feet extended off the opposite end, but the world had tipped upside down tonight. It was spinning too fast, and if I didn’t slow down, Sasha wouldn’t be the only one puking tonight.

“I fixed this place up,” I said.

“I know.”

I lifted an arm, pointing to the ceiling. “There’s a swirl in the texture that looks like an elephant up there.”

Sasha was quiet for a moment, then she barked a hollow laugh. “This is what we’re talking about.”

“Stick with me, sweetheart. I ramble when I’m drunk.” I let my arm fall to my side. “I fixed this place up.”

“You said that already.”

“Don’t move out.” I turned my head to look at her. “I don’t want you to move out.”

She swallowed hard. “I have my place in town.”

“Let it go.”

Her gaze dropped to an invisible spot on the rug beneath the coffee table.

“Everyone thought I should just tear this place down. But I thought it would be a good spot if I ever had company or if a friend like Emery needed to crash here for a while.”

“Who’s Emery?”

“My best friend. She’s been staying at my place on and off. Her husband is a dickhead. I wanted this place to be ready when—if—she ever decides to leave him. Chances are she never will. But just in case, I wanted a safe place for her to stay.”

“Oh.” Sasha blinked, giving her head a slight shake. “I thought—”

“That she was my girlfriend? Nope. Eww.” I grimaced. “I kissed her when we were thirteen. It was gross.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

Something like relief crossed her expression. “Um, me neither.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sasha was at home every night. She didn’t seem to have friends. She’d never invited another person to the cabin. If she wasn’t at the office, she was at home.

I’d been paying close attention.

Because had another man showed up at her door, I would have dragged him the hell off my property.

“Your friend’s husband. Does he hit her?” she asked.

“Verbal punches. They count too.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry for your friend.”

“Me too.” I shifted to stare up at the ceiling again, at the elephant I’d always see from this point on. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I.” Her voice trembled. “I never expected this.”

I blew out a long breath. Well, at least I wasn’t alone in the shock. “How long have you known?”

“What time is it?”

I shifted to dig my phone from my jeans pocket. “Eight thirty-nine.”

“Then I’ve known for one hour and thirty-nine minutes. I haven’t been feeling great lately. Things have been, um, tender. And I’m late. I went to the store after work and bought a test. I took it not long before I came to your house.”

Not long before Emery had left.

Part of me wished she would have stuck around tonight instead of heading home to work on shit with Calvin. If she had been there, she would have known what to say. That, or she would have smacked me upside the head the moment I reached for the bottle of bourbon and told me to get my ass to Sasha’s place.

“Tell me what to say,” I said.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Same.”

There wasn’t a single time I’d had sex without a condom. Not once. I’d had such confidence that they just . . . worked. Every time. Except one hadn’t worked. And now I was going to be a father.

Holy fuck.

I was going to be a dad.

Definitely, definitely not ready. Not even a bit. I didn’t even have a dog. Or a cat. My horses were the closest things I had to pets, and they didn’t take much. What the hell did I know about being a father?

Yep, I was going to puke.

“Tell me a lie,” I blurted.

“I’m excited for this baby.” Sasha sniffled, and when I glanced over, she was wiping beneath her eyes.

My heart squeezed. Maybe from the tears she was fighting. Or the reality that this might all go away. This didn’t have to be a monumental life change, not if she was against it.

My stomach pitched and tipped, like I was about to get bucked off my damn horse.

“Tell me a story.”

She dabbed at her eyes again. “What kind of story?”

“Anything.” At this point, I’d take scraps. Anything to know her better.

Anything to delay the question I’d have to ask eventually.

Her gaze roved down my legs, stopping at my feet. “My parents were sticklers for taking shoes off in the house, especially my dad. He wore plain white socks, like you. The day I moved in here, when you were working on the laundry room and had your boots off, it reminded me of him and his white socks.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I wiggled my toes.

“I’m scared, Jax.”

The dread of what she might say next manifested as a lump in my throat. “What do you want to do?”

Sasha shrugged a shoulder but otherwise stayed quiet.

“My mother abandoned me.”

“W-what? I thought Lily was—”

“Not my mother. West’s mom. Not mine. It’s fine.” I waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal.

It wasn’t a big deal. Not really. Or maybe I’d been waving it off for so long that I’d convinced myself it wasn’t an issue. Tonight was not the night to figure that shit out.

“I never knew her. I was a baby when she left,” I told Sasha. “She had a one-night stand with Dad in Vegas. Brought me to Montana after I was born. Dropped me off. Never came back.”

“Jax, I . . . if you’re worried about that, I would never abandon my child.” There was an edge to her voice.

“That wasn’t meant as an accusation. I told you, I ramble when I’m drunk. My point was that she had me. Even if she left me, at least she had me. Then she gave me to Dad.”

“Oh.”

I shook my head, wishing I knew how to do this the right way. Was there a right way? How did other men react when a woman dropped the pregnancy bombshell?

What I needed to say wasn’t something to say lying down, so I swung up to a seat, ignoring the spinning in my head as I held Sasha’s gaze. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to go through with this. Promise. But I think . . . I think I do?”

It sounded like a question. Was it a question? No. Even with only an hour for it to sink in, that was all the time it had taken for my heart to decide. My brain had some catching up to do, but in my heart, I knew what I wanted.

Somehow, even drunk and shocked, I knew what I wanted.

“I want to go through with this,” I said. “If that’s okay with you.”

Was I ready to be a dad? Not really. But I could get ready. I had time to get ready, right?

“I think . . .” Sasha swallowed hard. “I think I do too. Want to go through with this, I mean.”

“Really?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Yes. I’m not sure I can even articulate why I feel like this. But I think . . . I want this baby.”

“Thank fuck.” The air rushed from my lungs as I hung my head. Then I shifted to lie down again because the drunkenness wasn’t as bad if I just kept staring at the elephant. “We should probably get to know each other.”

“Probably.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of pickle? Dill? Or bread and butter?”

“Dill.”

“I like both. I like bubble gum ice cream. The kind that turns your tongue blue and has actual gum in it. You can’t really get it in a lot of places, but every summer during the county fair, there’s a waffle-cone booth that has it. Do you like the county fair?”

“I’ve never been to one.”

“I’ll take you. We’ll get bubble gum ice cream and ride the Sizzler. Not the Zipper. Those cages are death traps. I won’t do it. Deal?”

“Deal.” Sasha shifted in the chair, curling sideways so she could rest her cheek against the back. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“The Notebook.”

She lifted her head. “Seriously?”

“No.”

The corner of her mouth turned up, and that barely there smile was enough to loosen some of the pressure in my chest.

“I love old Westerns. Anything John Wayne or Clint Eastwood. If I had to pick a favorite, probably Lonesome Dove.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“We’ll fix that soon enough,” I promised, closing my eyes. “Are you scared of any animals or insects?”

“I’m terrified of snakes. I don’t love spiders.”

“You told me the day we met. About the spiders. I don’t mind snakes or spiders. But I think hyenas are creepy.”

“Hyenas?”

“Yeah. Why are their necks so long?”

A faint giggle drifted across the room. That laugh was my win for the night. “No hyenas. Got it. Cats or dogs?”

“Both,” I said. “But I don’t have pets. I don’t love the idea of animals inside. My grandparents are like that too. How old were you when you got your first kiss?”

“Sixteen. You?”

“Thirteen. Emery and I thought we should be boyfriend-girlfriend in eighth grade. So I kissed her at a high school football game underneath the bleachers.” It had been sloppy and wet. We’d both cringed afterward, and from that moment on, she’d been nothing but my best friend.

There weren’t many things I didn’t tell Emery. But for some reason, I’d kept Sasha a secret.

Emery knew about Sasha. That she worked as manager at the lodge. That she was staying in the cabin for the time being.

But I hadn’t wanted anyone to know about our night together. Not Emery. Not Indya. Not even West.

Sasha was mine and mine alone.

How were we going to tell people she was pregnant? How were we going to handle this? Maybe she should move into my house. It would be easier if we were under the same roof. Or did she want to keep some separation?

“Would you go to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I asked, holding my breath for her answer.

Except the room was quiet.

I cracked my eyes open, glancing at the chair.

Sasha’s body sagged against the cushions, her eyes shut and her mouth parted as she slept.

I pointed to the elephant on the ceiling. “I see you now, buddy.”

Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.