Page 48 of Seein’ Red

Silently praying that no one sees me.

It's still too early for the first floor businesses, but I have no idea what time Ewan leaves for work. It’s not currently hunting season, so The Booby Trap won’t open super early, but it’s always fishing season, so I’d bet the doors are unlocked by midmorning. If that’s the case, this could be a risky venture.

Then again, I suppose I have the same excuse Willa used the other day with Mrs. Chamberlain locked and ready to go.

I keep my eyes trained on Ewan’s door as I round the corner of the staircase, ready to act nonchalant if it opens. Thankfully, it doesn’t. A tinge of relief zings through me—but only a tinge. One less thing to worry about. For now.

Because unlike every other time I’ve made this climb, hoping, wishing, thinking that maybe someday I’ll be something other than a dirty little secret, this time I am. Only it’s not the way I want to be.

When I reach her door, I raise my hand to knock, but then think better of it. If she knows it’s me, she won’t answer. And this is Willa—she doesn’t blindly answer her door. She’ll look through her peephole and check. Whipping out my keys, I flip to hers and let myself in.

“Willa?” I call out into the quiet apartment.

There’s no answer, the whole place as still as a morgue. I glance at my watch, wondering if maybe she’s not home. It’s not like her to not have the TV on or some kind of music going. Then again, it’s also possible she’s still asleep.

I slowly pad toward her room, pushing the already ajar door all the way open. Her bed is empty, but still unmade, which means she hasn’t left yet. Good.

“Willa?” I shout again, turning toward the bathroom.

“Shit!”

Her loud curse barely covers the strange series of sounds that come from the other side of the door. What is she doing in there?

“You okay?”

“Damn it, Nash!”

I open the door, heart jumping as I take in a very naked Willa, bent over the toilet, fishing something out.

“Don’t you knock?”

“I figured you wouldn’t let me in if I did.”

“Probably right. And for a reason,” she snaps.

Her scowl is intense, but it does little to steal my attention from what she’s holding in her hand. A pregnancy test.

“What does it say?”

“Nothing now, because it’s too waterlogged! You startled me barging in here, and I dropped the damn thing in the toilet.”

“Do you have another?”

“No.”

Her response is terse as she violently tosses the now useless test in her trash. Pushing past me, she washes her hands, pretending as if I’m not there. I open my mouth to ask another question, but she spins around, hands parked on her gorgeous hips, her perfect breasts jiggling from her movement. The sight of her like this is enough to erase my entire brain, my dick coming to life, wanting in on the party.

Except it isn’t a party. She’s pissed.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve been ignoring me since Sunday. I wanted to know what’s going on. If you’d taken a test, and if we’re⁠—”

“We’re what?”

My mouth goes dry and I stammer, trying to be as careful as possible with my answer. “If we’re…going to be parents.”

There we go. That’s better than the P word. I think. Other than parents being another P word. Damn it.