Page 207 of Josephine and Clay

The word hits wrong instantly.

I lean forward, elbows braced against my knees. “You think this feels like a trap?”

“No.” She exhales softly. “I think you’ve spent your whole life running the second people expect things from you.” She looks down at her hands before continuing. “And I don’t want you waking up six months from now resenting me because you stayed in Buckhorn for the wrong reasons.”

My chest shifts hard at that.

Because even now, even carrying my kids, Josie’s still trying to protect me from becoming somebody I’ll hate.

I move before I fully think about it, reaching over and catching both her hands in mine.

"Look at me." She studies our joined hands before finally lifting her eyes. “I’m coming home.”

Josie studies my face carefully, probably searching for hesitation. “Clay⁠—”

“I mean it.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“This isn’t about proving anything.”

Her brows pull together slightly. “Then what is it about?”

I don’t know how to explain it properly.

Hearing there are two tiny heartbeats depending on me cracks open every fear I've spent years hauling around. None of the things I've been chasing feel bigger than what I'd lose by running again, and my whole life seems to rearrange itself in the span of a single conversation.

I scrub a hand over my jaw slowly. “I’ve spent so long trying to figure out where I belong that I never stopped long enough to build anything worth staying for.”

Emotion flickers across her face.

I squeeze her hands gently. “But this?” I glance down toward her stomach before meeting her eyes again. “You. Them. That matters more than any damn arena ever will.”

Her throat moves around a swallow.

“You’re scared,” she says.

I huff out a rough laugh. “Terrified.”

That finally earns a tiny smile from her.

“Good,” she murmurs. “You should be.”

“I got informed there’s two babies, Josie. I may never recover.”

A startled laugh slips out of her before she presses her lips together.

I shake my head slowly. “You really kept this to yourself all this time?”

Her eyes drop again. “I tried to tell you, but you didn’t seem to want to hear me. So I tried to convince myself it was easier.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No.” A sad smile touches her mouth. “Turns out secretly carrying twins is pretty stressful.”

Guilt twists through me again.

I think about her in a doctor’s office while I sat in this motel room drinking myself numb.