Page 141 of Josephine and Clay

Seven: everything collapses.

Then Tessa reaches over and takes my hand. “Oh, Josie.”

I blink at her. “I’m sorry,” I say, because I do not know what else to do with tenderness. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I haven’t told Clay.”

Her hand tightens slightly.

“I almost did,” I say quickly. “I was going to. I know he deserves to know. I’m not trying to hide it forever. I just… he’s injured, and he keeps talking about leaving, and I don’t want him to feel trapped, and I don’t want to need him, and I don’t know what he’ll do.”

Tessa listens without interrupting.

That makes it easier and harder.

“I’ve spent my whole life making sure I can handle things alone,” I say. “And now this is the biggest thing that has ever happened to me, and everyone keeps telling me I don’t have to be alone, but what if I believe that and then I am?”

Tessa reaches for my hand gently. “You need to tell him, Josie.”

“I know,” I whisper.

Tessa’s expression softens. “Clay’s a mess sometimes. He runs when things scare him. But this?” She glances down at my stomach. “This matters too much to keep from him.”

I look away, throat tight. “I just… don’t know how to tell someone who already has one foot out the door.”

Tessa doesn’t argue with that. She only squeezes my hand once. “Then wait until you can trust he’ll stay long enough to hear it properly.”

“He might leave,” I say.

“He might try,” Tessa says. “But that isn’t the same as being gone forever.”

“I can’t build a life on might.”

“No,” she says. “You shouldn’t.” Relief and disappointment tangle painfully in my chest. “But you also shouldn’t decide for him before he knows the truth.”

I look toward Main Street, blinking hard. “I’m scared,” I admit.

“I know.”

“I hate being scared.”

“Me too.”

“You don’t seem scared.”

She laughs softly. “I have a newborn. I’m scared of everything. Breathing noises. Silence. Diaper rash. The temperature of bathwater. Nash holding her while walking too close to doorframes.”

That pulls a real laugh from me.

Tessa smiles. “Fear doesn’t mean you’re failing.”

“I keep hearing that too.”

“Then Buckhorn is making progress.”

I wipe carefully beneath my eye, trying not to smear whatever is left of my dignity. “Please don’t tell Clay.”