She snorts at my suggestion. “With the two of you? Why would I even try? You and Summer are so tight, I bet you get your periods at the same time. Totally synched up. I remember you two binging junk food every month and complaining about your cramps.”

I laugh but stop as I process the words. Pre-period I’m always extra-bitchy. I’m a couple of days into my placebo pills for the month but nothing has started.

The other day, Summer complained about her cramps, and I just tittered like a sex-drunk idiot.

The blood drains from my face. It feels like it pools in my feet and grows heavy there as questions circulate in my mind, questions I haven’t even let myself think about.

“Are you okay?” Concern laces Winter’s tone.

“I . . .” My palms come up to rest on my cheeks. How did I miss this? “Fuck. What’s the date today?”

Winter’s eyes scan me, intelligence flashing in every glance. “Oh shit,” she says, rearing back a little. “Did you let that cowboy knock you up, Willa Grant?”

* * *

It’s dark by the time we hit the road again, which suits me fine because Cade can’t see my face as well under the cover of night.

He’s tired. I’m tired.

I’m in shock.

Winter tracked me down a pregnancy test while Cade had his fingers casted. It came back positive for a tiny Eaton, and I just sat in the waiting room staring into space.

Winter stayed for a while. She wasn’t overly comforting, but it was nice to have someone with me all the same. She was quiet and withdrawn as soon as the test came back positive.

It was awkward.

“You okay?” Cade asks, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Me? Yeah? Fine. Why?” I turn slightly to peek at his furrowed brow and beautifully crafted face. I’m not even mad, I’m not even sad. I’m oddly at peace with the whole thing.

But I am worried about him.

“Because you’re gripping the steering wheel like you’re trying to strangle it.”

“Ah,” I say with a nod.

“Did Winter say something to you? Do we like her? Do we hate her? Am I supposed to be mad at something with you? Because I will be if you are. Just tell me how to be supportive.”

Fuck, he’s sweet. His voice is all rough edges and deep grumbles, but I know he means what he says.

I just worry that after being trapped by one pregnancy, he’ll feel the same all over again. He’ll feel confined. He’ll be stuck providing for a woman and a baby that he never really got to be sure he wanted.

Again.

“No,” I reply softly, “Winter was great. I’m hoping her and Summer can mend this thing between them. I think they both need it.”