Page 98 of Through the Storm

We stand there for a beat, the space between us suddenly fragile.

“I just… I’ve been thinking that we should consider doing the blood test. I feel like you deserve to know.”

The words hit me like a punch to the ribs.

I stare at her. “You want me to take it?”

Her eyes drop for half a second. “Yes. I think you should.”

Jesus Christ. I drag a hand through my hair, trying to breathe through the sudden pressure in my chest.

“Katy…” My voice cracks a little. “I don’t need a test to tell me how to feel about you. Both of you.”

“That’s the problem, Ben. What happens when this baby comes out looking like Jason? Or Logan?”

I shake my head. “Do you really think that’s what this is for me?”

Her eyes flicker.

“I’m already here. I’ve already chosen this. You can’t just use a blood test to push me away, Katy. Is that what you’re trying to do?”

The words hang between us.

I’ve been to the appointments. I’ve talked to her stomach. I’ve spent nights awake reading baby books and trying to figure out car seats.

And no, I don’t know whose baby this is. But I do know how I feel about them. And I thought she knew that too. “I’ve told you this a million times. If that baby is someone else’s, I’ll still be here. I’ll still be excited to be here.”

She shakes her head and gives me a small smile. I can’t tell if she’s happy or sad, and it’s driving me crazy.

“But it’s not fair of me to ask that of you. You have places to be and things to do.”

“Are you having doubts about us? Is that it? Did I do somethingwrong?”

“Of course not. You’ve been amazing. I just don’t want you to hate me.”

“That would never happen.”

“That’s what you think now.”

“Katy…”

“I’m sorry, we can talk more tomorrow. I think I’m just overwhelmed and tired,” she says. “I should probably try to take a nap.”

“Yeah, of course,” I say. “I’ll head out and let you rest.”

Her eyes flicker with something—relief or regret, I can’t tell.

At the door, I turn back. “Hey, I meant what I said.”

She frowns slightly. “About what?”

“Being excited.” I hold her gaze. “About all of this. About us.”

She swallows. “I know.”

I wait for her to say something else. But she doesn’t.

Driving home, I replay the afternoon on a loop, trying to pinpoint when the shift happened.