Taking the last stairs two at a time, he hit the loft floor and stopped.
The bed was empty.
The sheets were in disarray. The scent of her was sweet, warm—ripe in the air.
She had to be near. He’d only been gone a few minutes. But the gnawing in his belly—and the knowledge that if she’d left once without warning, without reason, she could do it again—bit so hard he winced.
Then the plumbing hushed as the bathroom sink water ran downstairs.
The air left his lungs in a rush.
One thing he’d learned about making broken cars look brand-new: a lifetime of damage left marks that would always be a part of the car. Niggles. Bruises that would linger deep in the belly of the beast.
And while he would have willed it to be different if it were possible, people were very much the same. Meaning this feeling, this knot in his belly where Sable was concerned, might never ease.
He spun and padded back down the stairs.
Sable knew the feeling all too well. The ache in her back. The slight fuzziness of her brain.
Her trip to the bathroom confirmed.
Her period had started.
She wasn’t pregnant.
She’d read up, a lot, on this part of the journey, and she knew how rare it was to fall pregnant on the first go. Or the second, or the third. But the ache—the loss of something that had only existed in her head—was acute. Like nothing she’d ever felt.
Groaning, Sable fell into a crouch and wrapped her arms around her belly.
The vision she’d had of that flaxen-haired child had felt so real. So raw. So right. She’d felt as if it were a fait accompli. As if it were meant to be.
And she and Rafe had certainly tried hard enough. Often enough. Their no strings baby-making fling having blossomed into what had fast felt like something a whole lot more.
Rafe.
She closed her eyes tight and sank to the bathroom floor.
How was she going to tell him? Now that he’d committed to Project Baby, as he called it, he’d been reading books on fatherhood. Talking to Mercy about their experiences raising girls. She’d seen him stop a mother with a pram on the street the other day to ask what kind of nappy bag she was using.
The man was an utter doll. No wonder these weeks with him had been some of the best of her life. A glimpse into what things might have been like if they were doing this for real. If they were actually together. Building a life. Starting their family.
It had been a kind of lovely she’d never dared hope might be possible. The way he fell asleep with a book on his chest. The way he bartered for control over the remote. The way he played with her hair as they fell asleep.
Sure he grumbled that she took up too much of the bed. And he was a total morning person whereas she was a night owl. And she smiled at the way he wanted her to check in at least once a day when she went on her walks, just to make sure she hadn’t been kidnapped by forest pirates, or tripped over a knotty tree root and bumped her head.
Or run away again.
She closed her eyes tight.
And there it was, that single dark thread running through everything they did. The fact that he didn’t quite trust her. It showed in the way he breathed out when she came downstairs. The way his eyes lit up when they found one another after work. As if he could only relax when he knew she was still there.
She’d thought she was the one putting herself out there in asking this of him.
But he was too. In agreeing to her request, he’d risked derision from his friends and family, he’d risked the chance of being the focus of town gossip, and he’d risked letting her into his life again. While he might not know it yet, he’d risked the agony of starting to want this too. And watching it fail.
The thought of putting him through that made her feel physically ill.
Maybe this was a sign, the fact that she wasn’t pregnant. A sign to slow things down. Maybe even put it on hold for a bit. Despite the difficulties she faced in falling pregnant at all, that felt secondary to everything else right now.
“Sable?” Rafe’s voice, warm and deep and wonderful, came to her from the other side of the door.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Keep it together. “I’ll just be another minute.”
“All good. Though we have not a thing to eat. Bear’s for breakfast before we head off?”
She had to tell him. The thought of having this conversation in public was mortifying. But the thought of telling him here, in this place that had begun to feel like home, felt worse.
“Can we grab something to go? Picnic breakfast in Wonderland Park?”
“Not exactly picnic weather.”
He was right. The wind had picked up overnight, bringing with it a wintry blast all the way from Antarctica. Like an omen. “Let’s live on the wild side.”
He laughed, the sound smoothing its way down her spine, like a caress. She closed her eyes, but not quickly enough to stave off the tear that slipped through.
Then she heard a light bump and she could picture him leaning his forehead against the door. “Sure. Why not?”
She closed her eyes, letting the tears flow fast and furious down each cheek, before she swiped them hastily away. “I’ll have a quick shower and be ready in ten.”
She was ready in seven. Tears washed away. Game face on. Tougher than she looked. Tougher than she felt. Well used to making big mistakes by now. Used to having to face them.
She’d never been more scared to face up to one than she was right now.
As they crunched through the piles of dead leaves on their way to Wonderland Park, an icy wind whipped through Sable’s jeans,
