Page 12 of The Firefighter’s Forever

5

LUCAS

“You’re what?”

Harmony stands in front of me at the park with her arms wrapped around her middle, her face pale in the early afternoon light. The same bench where she told me we should just be friends sits a few feet away. When she texted asking if I could meet her here, some stupid, hopeful part of me thought maybe she’d changed her mind.

Instead, she dropped a bomb.

“I’m pregnant,” she says again.

The words hit even harder the second time. It’s a shock to my system like I’ve never felt before. I stare at her, waiting for my brain to do something useful, but all I can think is that she looks too alone standing there by herself with that much uncertainty in her eyes.

Pregnant.

Harmony is pregnant.

With my kid.

The thought nearly takes my knees out.

“Lucas?” she asks, and the concern in her voice snaps something inside me back into place.

I step closer, but I don’t touch her because she looks as though physical contact might send her over the edge. “Are you okay?”

She gives a shaky laugh that doesn’t sound anything like her. “I have no idea.”

I nod, forcing my voice to stay even. “That’s fair.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” she says. “I took the test twice because I thought maybe the first one was wrong, which is ridiculous, but I did it anyway.”

“Second one was positive, too?”

She nods. Her mouth trembles for half a second before she presses her lips together, and it’s clear she’s doing everything in her power not to cry.

For years I’ve known what to do in emergencies. Fire, smoke, broken glass, blocked exits, scared people, tight spaces, a clock running down. Those things make sense in a brutal kind of way. You assess. You move. You handle what’s in front of you.

This is entirely fucking different.

There’s no gear to put on. No hose to drag. No door to force open. Just Harmony standing in front of me looking scared and confused, and a whole future neither of us saw coming hanging over us.

My brain tries to move through practical steps and runs into a wall. Doctor. Timeline. Insurance. Appointments. Vitamins. There are definitely things I’m supposed to know, and right now I know exactly none of them.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

She blinks. “Physically?”

“Any way.”

“I don’t know. A little nauseous. Tired. Panicky.” She rubs both hands over her face, then lets them fall. “Mostly panicky.”

“Have you called a doctor?”

“Not yet. I will.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a second she looks so close to breaking that I almost reach for her. I stop myself because last time I reached for her, everything between us changed, and I don’t know what she needs from me right now.

I mean, fuck. I know what I want to do. I want to pull her into me, tell her I’ll always take care of her, tell her I’d marry her in a heartbeat if she’d have me.