Sunlight (Haven River Ranch)

Six weeks later . . .

I’d messed up. Oh God. I’d messed up. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

My hands were shaking, my palms clammy. I walked out of the bathroom and collapsed on the bed, hugging a pillow to my chest.

Did I cry? Or scream?

I hugged the pillow tighter, letting numbness spread through my veins like a fog. The faint echo of a car door slamming drifted through the windows.

It certainly wasn’t a visitor here to see me. I didn’t get visitors. No, it was probably Jax’s girlfriend.

She’d been around fairly often over the past two weeks. Did she know that Jax had slept with me after the party in January? Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe they hadn’t been officially together yet. Well, if she didn’t know, she would soon enough.

I squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach roiled.

“Oh God.” I buried my face in the pillow as a sob escaped.

What was I going to do? What would Jax say?

We hadn’t spoken in six weeks. Not a single word. He’d email me his weekly excursion summaries. He’d nod if we crossed paths in the lodge—which rarely happened now that Indya was on maternity leave and he didn’t stop by her office to visit.

If we both happened to be outside of our houses at the same time, he’d look at me, but that was it. Either he’d get in his truck to drive away, or he’d retreat inside his house.

He’d finished the laundry room the week after the party. He’d come in while I was at work and installed the new washer and dryer. But he hadn’t left a note. Hadn’t texted to tell me it was done. Nothing.

It wasn’t like I’d tried to talk to him either. It had become so awkward that if I saw him, I turned and went the other direction. My rent checks were slipped under his front door whenever I was sure he wasn’t home.

How was I supposed to face him? How was I supposed to tell him I was—

Another sob escaped. My insides churned, and the dinner I’d nibbled threatened to make a reappearance, but I wasn’t about to puke on my bed, so I swallowed it down, breathing through my nose.

How did I tell Jax when I couldn’t even think the word, let alone speak it?

A car door slammed again, forcing me off the bed. I trudged to the bedroom window and tugged back the corner of the curtain to look outside.

Jax stood in the front door’s frame, his posture relaxed and easy. He lifted a hand to the Jeep Wrangler woman as she reversed away.

Not a sleepover then?

Damn. I was kind of hoping she’d be there all night. It would be easier to convince myself to put this off, to delay until tomorrow or the next day or the next, if he had a guest.

I let the curtain fall and dropped my forehead to the wall. Shit.

Delaying this would only make it harder. So before I lost the nerve, I forced myself out of the bedroom and to the cabin’s door. I bundled up in my warmest coat and boots, then slipped outside and into the cold.

Winter was endless. For nearly a week, Mother Nature had gotten my hopes up that we’d seen the last blizzard. The weather had been warm enough to melt the roads, and while there were still patches and drifts of white, the meadows around the ranch were mostly mud and damp tufts of golden-brown grass.

I’d started repacking my belongings, preparing to return to the rental in town now that the drive wouldn’t be so treacherous. My landlord had promised that the carpet was not just cleaned but new, and that the door’s latch and lock had both been replaced.

The last time I’d talked to him, about two weeks ago, he’d seemed desperate to have me move back. Probably because I’d refused to pay while I wasn’t living there. But also because my lease was month to month, and I had a feeling he didn’t get a lot of takers on vacancies.

Nope, just me. The idiot who was new to Montana and didn’t realize the people next door were prone to late-night parties and raucous sex.

As shitty as the rental was, it was better than being next door to Jax. So I’d planned to leave the cabin tonight while Jax was at the Saturday barbeque at the lodge.

But a massive storm had blown in three days ago, killing my hopes of spring and thwarting my plans to move.

I wasn’t willing to risk the roads. And it wasn’t like I particularly wanted to move.

This cabin was a dream. It was cozy and warm. It was clean, and I’d gotten used to having furniture. To sleeping on a real bed.

But as much as I wanted to stay, paying rent on two properties was ridiculous, especially on my budget. My landlord would expect a rent check if I didn’t cancel my lease. And he, unlike Jax, would cash the checks I left.

Things hadn’t been great over the past six weeks, but they’d been fine. Now? This wasn’t fine. I wasn’t fine.

Where did I go from here? What did I do?

Forward. One step at a time, like I’d done for the past ten years, no matter how hard it was to pick up my feet. So I forged a path through the snow to Jax’s house. I took a fortifying breath when I reached his porch, steeling my spine and raising a finger to press the doorbell.

My heart hammered as it chimed. When the knob turned, I was sure I’d vomit. Again.

But then he was there, his blue eyes narrowing and his jaw flexing.

Even angry, he was gorgeous.

Jax crossed his arms over his chest. State your purpose might as well have been written on his forehead.

I didn’t bother with a hello or small talk. I didn’t bother with a smile.

Tonight, I wasn’t here to tell him lies. But I did have a secret.

“I’m pregnant.”