Page 48 of Angel

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“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say.

He nods immediately. “Okay.”

“I might be wrong,” I tell him carefully. “And I don’t want to make promises we can’t keep. But… my body is talking. Softly.”

His eyes don’t light up wildly, they steady.

“What do you need from me?” he asks.

That question steadies me more than any reassurance could.

“Patience,” I say. “And honesty. And for us not to lose ourselves if this turns out to be nothing.”

He takes my hand and presses it to his chest. His heartbeat is strong and grounded.

“You get all of that,” he says. “Every damn bit.” My throat tightens.

“I took a test,” I admit. He doesn’t reach for it, demand to see.

“And?” he asks gently.

“There’s a line,” I say. “But it’s faint. It could be nothing.”

He nods once. “We don’t build castles yet,” he says.

“No.”

“We don’t panic either.”

“No.”

“We just… take the next step.”

“Yes.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles.

“Whatever this is,” he says quietly, “it doesn’t define us. Not anymore.”

The words don’t hurt this time, they anchor me.

“I know,” I say. And I mean it.

Chapter Eighteen

Angel

Idon’t let myself hope. That’s the rule I make in my head the second Stevie says her body is “talking.” I nod. I listen. I hold her hand and keep my voice steady. But inside, I build a wall brick by brick, because hope has teeth and I’ve seen what it does when it turns. I stay grounded. Measured. Present. But something’s different.

It’s not what she says. It’s how she says it.

Calm.

Not frantic.

Not bargaining.

She isn’t trying to force her body to confess.

She isn’t clinging to the future like it owes her something.

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