Page 71 of Three Months Yesterday

Ryan’s laugh crackles through the speaker, warm and familiar in a way that makes the distance between Boston and here feel a little shorter. “Man, I’ve been sleeping in hotel beds for what feels like years. I don’t care if it’s only one night, I’m happy to be back in my own bed.”

I try to laugh with him, but the sound comes out wrong. It’s thin at the edges and I know the second it leaves my mouth he hears it.

There’s a beat of silence on the line. The kind that only comes from someone who knows you better than you know yourself sometimes.

“Okay,” Ryan says, his tone shifting. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I shove my free hand in my pocket. “Just tired.”

“Beckett.” He says my name the way he always does when he’s not buying it, flat and patient, like he’s willing to wait me out for as long as it takes. He’s been doing it since we were ten and I acted like I wasn’t upset my parents had to miss a music performance at school because they were working. He’s never once been wrong about when I’m lying.

I blow out a breath and make my way downstairs, my eyes catching on the house out the front window. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve always got time for you.”

I hesitate. It’s not that I don’t trust Ryan—I do, more than anyone—but this isn’t my news to share. Madison’s pregnancy, the way it came about, what I learned Saturday when I dropped by her house.

It might not have been the smartest idea showing up when I didn’t hear from her but I was worried. I stopped by to drop off some dinner—nothing fancy—just some soup and bread from the inn’s kitchen. I knew she wouldn’t have the energy to make anything herself, and I didn’t know if anyone else dropped something off for her. She answered the door in an old oversized flannel, her hair piled on top of her head. I remember thinking she looked smaller than usual. Fragile in a way that had nothing to do with the bruise still prominent at her hairline.

I didn’t plan on asking about the conversation with Mark. It didn’t feel like my place. We weren’t anything specific to each other, and no matter how their story ended, there was a long history between them, one she needed to see through however it suited her best. So I took her lead, same as I’ve been doing since the day I met her.

She didn’t leave me hanging. With a hesitancy I hated, she told me about the conversation. About the fact that Mark wants nothing to do with any of it—the baby, being a father, her.

Everything’s hers to share, and telling my best friend over the phone doesn’t feel like my place.

But I need someone to work through the mess in my head with. Someone who isn’t her or her brother, and Ryan’s the only person I trust enough to say the ugly parts out loud.

“Okay, but it’s a mess,” I tell him, leaning against the kitchen counter, my eyes still trained at the house across the way.

“Now I’m really worried.”

I start talking. I tell him about the accident, about the terror I felt when she fell off the horse, about the way my heart dropped when they slipped the collar around her neck and put her on the backboard. I tell him about the news that came after, the news about the baby…whose baby it is. I tell him about the last three days, the carefulness that’s settled between us like a third person in the room. About the way she still smiles at me and leans into my touch but that everything is different now, and how it’s something I can’t name anymore.

Ryan’s quiet so long after I finish I have to check the screen to make sure the call didn’t drop.

“Damn,” he finally says. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“And the ex, Mark, he’s just out?”

“He doesn’t want to be part of the situation. Apparently, being a father was never part of his plan.”

Another pause, and the tone of his words when he finally speaks drives home a fact I already knew, Ryan and I are two peas in a pod. “And Madison’s okay with that?”

“She says she is. She told me she’s at peace with how the conversation went.” I rub the back of my neck. “I believe her. Or at least I want to. Maybe that’s the same thing right now.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, I can’t tell if she’s actually fine or if she’s just telling me she’s fine because that’s easier. She said it flat, Ryan. No inflection or emotion. I couldn’t read her.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “And where does that leave you?”

“I don’t know.” I push off the counter and start pacing around the cottage. “I knew things would change. You don’t find out the woman you’re falling for is pregnant with someone else’s baby and just keep going like nothing’s happened. I just thought the change would be something we could talk through together. Not something that just sits there.”

His words are hesitant, but logical. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“She’s concussed and dealing with enough. I don’t want to add my stuff to her pile.”