Page 25 of Afterglow

“Hey, you!” She bounds around her vehicle and up the stairs of the cabin two at a time until she can wrap her arms around my waist.

“Hey,” I say softly, accepting the embrace—letting it ground me. I haven’t so much as touched another human since my hug with Leanne. I’m a physical touch sort of guy, especially with the people in my life that I love, and Becca is one of those people.

“How’re you doing?” she asks, pulling back to look me in the eye. She squints at me, trying to read anything and everything going on in my brain.

“I’d be better if Leanne would call. Have you heard from her?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head, then says, “I can’t tell you that. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Now that she’s a patient, until or unless she gives me permission to share details with you, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

I dip my chin. “Well, I guess if she’s a patient, she made an appointment with your team like she said she would.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have even told you that. But hey, you could always call her.” She pushes on my shoulder, a knowing smirk playing around her lips.

“I don’t know if she wants me to.”

She makes a pfft sound and shakes her head, the implication clear: I’m being an idiot.

“What? I put the ball in her court. I bought her groceries and asked her to call me, and she never did,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest like it will quell the ache there.

She holds up her hands in surrender. “This is me making assumptions based on very little information—of which I would like more of please—but I think she probably needs you to make the first move…”

I begin to protest that I already did—I went to her house, didn’t I? I did her shopping. I left the note—but Becca adds, “The next move then,” in a gentle voice.

I absorb her words but need a minute to sit with them. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” I say, and point her toward a chair.

“Yes please, I just got off a long shift at the hospital. I need caffeine if I’m going to make it home in one piece.”

I shudder at the thought of something happening to her. “I’m sure you could go up to the main house and rest. Your parents are there. Or you can stay here.”

“Nah, I’d rather sleep in my own bed, but I wanted to come see you first.” She bounces her eyebrows and I know I’m not going to be able to avoid her many, many questions for much longer. Especially since she drove thirty minutes in the wrong direction to be here.

“Fine,” I huff, walking inside to get her coffee.

When I return, I think she might be asleep—head lolled against the back of the rocking chair, eyes closed—but she shifts to look at me the moment the door creaks closed. I extend the mug and she wraps her hands around it, taking a sip of the golden-colored liquid.

I keep creamer in the house specifically for Becca. I drop my eyes to my own cup where the dark liquid looks almost black. The steam wafts up, curling in wispy tendrils against the cold air and carrying the aromatic scent of the blonde roast I prefer.

“Soooo…” she begins. I sit in the chair next to her and roll my head along the rest to find her smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Aren’t you going to tell me about Leanne?”

“You already know about her,” I hedge, but evasive tactics are not going to work on Becca and I know it.

“Um, no… I know she’s pregnant, but considering you never even told me you were seeing someone, I don’t know anything about her. About the two of you. Spill.”

I scratch my jaw again and avert my eyes. This is awkward.

“Bryce, are you blushing right now?” She laughs, head tipped back and smile lines around her eyes. Goodness, it’s times like this that I really see how much she’s grown. I know that’s weird, because she’s a whole-ass woman, but I’ve known her since she was eight, and sometimes I forget she’s an adult and not a kid anymore.

And yes, I am fucking blushing. Jesus. I glare at her and she looses another crow of laughter.

Through her chortling, she says, “Bryce, I already know she’s pregnant, and it’s not like any of us expected you to be a monk for the rest of your life. It’s been six years; you deserve to be happy…”

“It was a one-night stand, okay,” I nearly shout to get her to stop. I can already see her getting all these big ideas in her head about what my future will look like with Leanne and this baby, and I don’t want her to go down that rabbit hole when I can’t even get the woman to call me.

Becca’s jaw drops open and she blinks rapidly a couple of times as she processes this new, and likely very surprising, information.

“But…”

“But nothing, Becca. Saturday was the first time I saw her since…” I trail off, my cheeks heating further underneath my beard.