#dad!matt

Act I

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Act II

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

He freezes and, in the blink of an eye, every sense goes on high alert. Are you in danger? For a moment, he swears he can hear every single sound from Hell’s Kitchen all the way to New Jersey. But he forces himself to zero in on your voice. Calmly, he says your name then asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Matt, you said-” you hiccup through an onslaught of tears. “You promised you’d be home for dinner ‘n you’re not here.” 

Fuck. He didn’t even realize how long he’d stayed behind to work on his current caseload. He had promised you he would go home early tonight so you two could eat dinner together for the first time in weeks. Yet here he is, still elbow-deep in legal documents, having made little to no actual progress, listening to you weep over the phone.

“I'm sorry, kid,” he says in a rush and rubs a hand over his forehead. “I didn't realize how late it was. I didn't mean to keep you waiting.”

You respond with a wordless sob and Matt's heart shatters into a million pieces. He's hurt you. His sweet girl. His voice of reason. His god-given solace. 

What's worse is that this is the exact sort of situation that would trigger you. Matt knows all about your abandonment issues and – kindly, it goes without saying – your daddy issues. You’ve apologized for it more times than he can count, heart pounding and speaking through tears as you explain your trauma. How some of the most important people in your life broke promises and left you to fend for yourself through times of need. He swore that he would never allow that to happen to you ever again, but he’d done just that. Albeit unintentionally, but that doesn’t lessen the damage.

“Dad,” you bawl suddenly like the word is being torn from your chest, ugly and broken. Those three letters speak of countless years of desperation. Of the pain that rests dormant inside you that can never be remedied no matter how anyone might try, just waiting to bubble to the surface like bile. “I don’ wanna be alone!”

Worry unfurls in Matt’s chest. He feels responsible for this. For you. More so than usual, at least. And he knows he’s the only one who can try to fix this somehow. Not fix you, but make up for his mistake.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs. “It's alright. I'm leaving now, so I'll be home soon, okay?” 

Your cries quiet down into meek hiccups. “Promise?”

“I promise, baby.” 

“Pinky promise?” 

Your voice is so soft, so hopeful, like a little girl simply wishing for the best outcome. Matt can’t help but smile to himself as he echoes, “Pinky promise.”

There’s a moment of silence as your sniffles dissolve into soft breaths.

“I love you,” Matt says steadily; a fact that’s set in stone.

“Love you, too,” you reply, sounding a little more composed than before.

He hangs up the phone, drops everything he was doing, and leaves the office.

Less than twenty minutes pass before Matt is unlocking the door to his apartment.

Sure, he’s exhausted from work. In fact, his entire body feels like a block of concrete — dense and stiff and heavy. But he has to take care of his girl before he can even consider the idea of rest. He drops his briefcase and guiding cane the moment he makes it past the threshold, discards his suit jacket during the short walk down the hallway, tie long forgotten somewhere in the process. He's kicking off his shoes near the kitchen when he catches the fading hint of seasoning in the air. The intensity of garlic and onion hits first, then the sweeter scent of fresh basil and tomatoes. His stomach twists and a frown reaches his lips. Not only had you been waiting for him to come home for dinner, but you had cooked for him as well. 

Disappointed in himself, he sighs through his nose and walks over to slide the bedroom door open. Your presence is palpable – breaths measured, pulse quivering with anxiety, laying still in bed. It’s like you’re trying to avoid existing to an extent that you believe might somehow inconvenience him.

He says your name so gently that it’s a mere whisper of a word. Your only response is a slight shuffling of blankets. Matt allows a smile to reach his lips and he opens his arms as a show of welcome, to prove that he wants you in his space. “Where’s my favorite girl?”

A few more seconds of ruffling bedsheets as you scoot off the bed, followed by the slightly muffled footsteps of your socked feet as you pad over to him. You fling your arms around him and bury your face in his chest with a muffled sniffle.

“Sweetie,” he coos softly, one hand cradling your head to his chest while the other rubs up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you. “Everything will be okay. I’m here now.”

While he feels your frame relax in his arms, he can still sense the tension hiding in your shoulders and the tearful wobble of your bottom lip. He knows your thoughts are likely dragging you back to the outburst you had over the phone. To those three letters that you heaved with such anguish that Matt would carve out his own heart just to help ease your tears. But he understands that this isn’t the appropriate space nor time to address such a heavy, complex topic. What you need is comfort. Reassurance that he won’t leave your side, not even if God Himself were to pry him away from you.

“What did you make for dinner?” he whispers to the top of your head. His hand never ceases rubbing broad circles across your back.

You mumble into his shirt, “Jus’ spaghetti.”

You say spaghetti as if the word itself caused a personal offense against you. And judging by the uninterested silence from your stomach, Matt figures that your anxiety has killed your appetite, but it’s no matter. He releases the back of your head to tip your chin up and press a kiss to your forehead. “It smells amazing. We’ll eat it for lunch tomorrow, alright?”

“Pinky promise?” 

His hand ventures away from your chin to find your hand, looping his pinky around yours and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Pinky promise.”

That seems to brighten your mood as your heart beat steadies into a calmer pace. You push up on your tip-toes to kiss him. Immediately, he tastes the salt of dried tears on your lips, then the underlying hint of your sweet lip balm. He nips gently at your bottom lip just to make you giggle, and you do, just a little.

“There you are.” He pecks your lips, the tip of your nose, and each of your cheeks until you’re squealing with delight under his attention. Not wanting to get your adrenaline up when you’re already exhausted, he suggests, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You turn to crawl up onto the mattress. Meanwhile, Matt strips from the rest of his clothes, save for his boxers, and settles into bed beside you. You shift to snuggle up to the warmth of his scarred chest, whispering his name under your breath like it encompasses everything good and right in the world. He holds you closer, strong arms weighing comfortably around your body, and you fall asleep in a heartbeat.

The next day, you wake to the smell of coffee, just like every other domestic, saccharine Saturday morning. 

But unfortunately, this time around, you feel like someone dropped an anvil on your head that has flattened you to the bed like a cartoon character. Dull pain pulses to life in your temples. You must have forgotten to rehydrate after your emotional breakdown last night because your sleep-crusted eyes feel as dry as sandpaper and you have to smack your lips in a feeble attempt to quell your thirst.

What’s worse is that the memories of the previous night come racing back through your mind like a disturbing film reel. Not only had you called Matt while he was at work and bawled your eyes out like a complete and total toddler, you’d called him dad. Him. Your boyfriend! Your therapist would have an absolute field day if you ever allow her to catch wind of this.

But Matt – your precious, wonderful Matt with a heart made of pure gold – hadn’t shied away from your outburst. No, he’d rushed home, reassured you, and held you throughout the entire night so you wouldn’t feel alone.

God. You drag your body into an upright position and rub the sleep from your eyes, then sit there for a few minutes before you work up the energy to go wash up in the bathroom. 

Ultimately, if you want to survive the humiliation ritual bound to occur today, you need caffeine.

“G’morning,” you mumble as you pad across the living room and into the kitchen where Matt is already pouring you a cup of coffee. The average man wouldn’t have been able to hear the approach of your socked feet, but Matt could’ve heard you coming from a block away. He looks like a dream in his soft blue t-shirt and grey sweatpants. If you weren’t so exhausted, you probably would’ve dropped to your knees right there on the hardwood floor. Instead, you move to grab the mug of coffee but Matt swipes it away and spins to face the opposite direction so you can’t snatch it away.

“Hey!” You protest and worm your way between him and the counter. He holds the mug above your head, keeping it just out of reach. Frustrated and bemoaning the caffeine he’s holding hostage, you whine, “Matt!”

“Ah-ah,” he tuts. “Water first.”

“But-”

Wordlessly, he points at the fridge, eyebrows raised in that look that dares you to test his authority. You huff and stalk over to the cabinet to grab a cup, then drag yourself over to the sink to pour water from the tap. By the time you chug down a glass and trudge back to Matt, he’s placed a bottle of aspirin on the counter beside your coffee mug and a carton of your favorite dairy substitute. 

“Sugar, please,” you say through a small yawn. Matt grins and leans down to plant a kiss to your lips. You pout. “Not that kind of sugar.”

“Mm, no?” he taunts and gives you another peck, making you smile. “You sure?”

“Matt, I love you-”

“But?”

“-but I need brain juice.”

He hums, amused, and scoots the jar of sugar across the counter. You scoop an amount into your cup that one might consider to be overly-generous.

“Jeez. Want some coffee with that?”

You whack his chest with the back of your hand.

“That much sugar isn’t good for you.”

“Okay, dad.” You force sarcasm into your tone but it doesn’t land quite right. Not after last night. 

The banter fizzles out. The silence stretches. You stir milk into your coffee. Matt scoops a bit of sugar into his cup. You cram a few painkillers into your mouth to distract yourself from the fact that you can feel the cogs turning in Matt’s mind.

“Hey,” he says eventually. Gently. You cross your arms over your chest as if creating a sort of barrier between the two of you can prevent you from having to address the elephant in the room. Matt reaches out and gives your shoulders a firm squeeze. “We should talk.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. Matt must feel how tense you are because his hands slide down to find your elbows and unfold your arms, then raise them to loop around his neck.

“I’m not upset,” he starts, tilting his chin down so his unseeing eyes can look down at you. “I just want to understand.”

“I didn’t mean to say it,” you admit wearily. “It’s just, in the heat of the moment, I thought…”

You trail off. What had you thought? That Matt would purposely ignore you? Abandon you? Your rational mind knows that the mere idea is laughable. Matt would die before leaving you of his own will, then come back from the dead to be with you again. But the frightened part of your mind – the same one that’s been forced to accept the hardest of truths – refuses to deny the possibility.

“I don’t know,” you huff, defeated.

“Is it a sort of coping mechanism?”

Matt only knows that phrase because of all the times you’ve discussed your therapy sessions with him. Your lips twitch into a poor excuse for a smile, but at least it’s something. “In all honesty? Yeah, probably.”

Matt nods, smooths his hands over your hips, and asks as casually as one might remark on the weather: “Is it a kink?”

“What? No!” you blurt and a mortified flush rises to your cheeks. But after considering it for a moment, you confess again, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Matt soothes, voice low and tender in a way that makes your tummy do cartwheels. “You don’t have to know.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird, though? I mean, with our age difference, I don’t want you to think that I’m using you to replace something I’ve lost or that I’m-” The words are lost on your tongue amidst your nervous ramble, so you gesture vaguely with one hand. “-whatever the opposite of a cougar is.”

Matt chuckles, eyes crinkling with those crows feet that you find utterly endearing. “That’d make me a silver fox.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not that old.”

“My joints disagree.”

“I’m rolling my eyes at you,” you announce as you do precisely that.

He smiles and dips his head to kiss you, slow and sweet. You savor the taste of dark roast coffee on his lips and scratch of his beard against your skin. Once he pulls away, he murmurs, "I know you aren’t using me.”

You let out a small sigh of relief and slide your hands down to his chest. That’s one weight lifted off your shoulders, amongst many others.

“But,” he continues, “if this is something you want to try, then…” His hands give your waist a gentle squeeze. “We should try it.”

“Seriously?” You gawk.

He confirms with a short, simple nod, like he just agreed to accompany you to the grocery store instead of allowing you to call him dad. 

“No, Matt, that’s-” you huff out an awkward laugh to cover up the way your words get caught behind the ache in your throat. “-fucked up. In so many ways. Gross, even.”

“It’s not,” he insists. Then, softer, with a certain intensity you’ve never seen before: “Not to me.”

Your bottom lip quivers with a rush of emotion. His hand finds yours, looping your pinkies together before making your thumbs kiss to seal the deal. “I pinky promise.”

You take a deep breath then push up on your toes to give him a kiss, whispering, “Okay.”

Luckily, he doesn’t press the matter any further and the two of you fall back into your typical morning rhythm.

Things stay normal for about a day, because by Monday, you catch him scheming something.

You just finished getting ready for your afternoon lecture when you walk out into the living room to locate your backpack. You notice that your favorite water bottle is tucked into the side pocket, already filled. That’s when you look up to see Matt standing in the kitchen, back to the counter, half-dressed for work in his button-up and slacks, with a grin on his face.

“What’s going on?” you ask cautiously and slowly heft your bag onto your shoulder.

“Nothing,” Matt says far too brightly. Totally not suspicious at all.

“Uh-huh…”

He blinks at you with all the innocence of a puppy who just mauled your favorite pair of shoes. You try to scoot around him to get to the coffee pot but he angles his body to block your path. No, not to block you. To hide something.

“Matt.”

“Mhm?”

“You’re standing between me and my coffee.”

His grin widens. “I am.”

You narrow your eyes at him. This is the second time that he’s postponed your caffeine intake. “Matt.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please move before I tackle you like a linebacker?”

“Mm.” His eyes crinkle with amusement. “I’d like to see you try, but no.”

You think for a moment before standing on your tip-toes to kiss his smiling lips.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs against your mouth, playfully bumping his nose against yours. Then, he reaches behind himself to grab something off the counter. Before you know it, a lunch tote is placed into your hands. You blink at it, then up at Matt who’s smiling like, well… a proud dad.

“You packed me lunch?” you guess. His grin goes impossibly wider as he nods. Skeptical, you go to unzip the tote to see what’s inside, but he grabs your wrist, halting your curiosity.

“It’s a surprise. And-” he reaches behind himself once more to produce a thermos that you didn’t even know you owned, which conveniently happens to be your favorite color. “-iced coffee.”

You beam at the fact that Matt is taking your caffeine addiction into consideration. “I see a very hot and heavy night in your future, Matt Murdock.”

Matt chuckles, guides the thermos into your hands, then says seven words that you’ve only ever heard him say in your dreams: “Have a good day at school, kid.”

“Oh,” you start dumbly, awestruck, a flush rising to your cheeks. “Mhm.”

You begin to shuffle away, mind racing, pulse fluttering in your throat–

“Hey.” He catches your elbow and coaxes you to backtrack. “Not gonna kiss your dad goodbye?”

Oh my god. If your heart wasn’t racing before, it definitely is now. You inch closer and he ducks his head down to meet your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that leaves you breathless by the time he pulls away. Your dazed mind forgets you have somewhere to be and opts for noticing all the little signs of age on Matt’s face. The pretty wrinkles of smile lines around his hazel eyes. The bits of grey hair peppered into his beard. The thinning hair at his temples that he denies every time you point it out. Your panties become damp in sixty seconds flat. Matt tilts his head to one side. It’s a small movement but still enough to tell you that he’s using his heightened senses for something dastardly.

“Love you, bye!” you squeak and scurry out the door before he has a chance to catch on to your arousal.

By the next evening, you’re ready to drop out of college, change your name, and move into the mountains. 

Every year, you expect it might be a little easier to study for final exams, but it just gets worse as you advance in your classes. You’ve spent hours pouring over an entire semester’s-worth of assigned reading, taking color-coded notes, emailing back and forth with a few classmates to schedule study groups, and, and, and-

“My brain,” you groan, sprawled across the couch with your face buried in a throw pillow. “It’s melting.”

Matt gives your leg a sympathetic pat from his corner of the couch. “No, it’s not.”

“It is!” you whine and kick your feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum, because that’s precisely how you feel. 

He seizes your ankles with ease and speaks calmly. “Come on. Get up and finish your assignment.”

“No.” You pout petulantly into the pillow.

His voice drops suddenly, dangerously low. “I’m not asking.”

Heat curls in your lower belly at that. You know you should listen. The angel on your shoulder tells you that the last thing you need is to get on Matt’s nerves and create further tension in the apartment, what with your growing pile of coursework and his own caseload at the firm. But the little devil on your opposite shoulder chants brat, brat, brat.

“I don’t wanna,” you insist and try to wriggle your legs out of Matt’s grasp. There’s a moment of struggle before one foot slips free and you immediately knock your heel into his jaw. Embarrassment rushes through you and you push yourself up onto your elbows at lightspeed, beginning to ramble incessant apologies for accidentally kicking him. But Matt grabs the back of your thighs and drags you toward him, only stopping once your tummy is laid across his lap and your butt is nearly in the air.

“Stop fussing,” he scolds and gives your ass a light, controlled smack. The barrier of your pajama shorts lessens the impact but it still makes you squirm.

“I’m sorry, Matt-”

“Not Matt.” A second spank, harder this time. Warm arousal rushes straight to your clit, but you don’t have much time to savor it before his hand comes down with another smack. “Try again.”

“ ‘m sorry, dad!” The words come out in a rush. He smooths his hand over your ass to ease away any lingering pain. Your thoughts are pleasantly hazy from the little rush of adrenaline he gave you. But knowing Matt, this isn’t the last of it.

You feel him hook his finger into the waistband of your shorts and tug them down to your bent knees. He sighs slowly through his nose, calloused thumb tracing the hem of your panties where it stretches across your ass. “It’s not your fault, is it? School can be so hard for my little girl.”

A part of you wants to stand up for yourself. To insist that you’re smart and independent and you can handle it. But Matt’s voice has gone so soft. And with the uncomfortable crick in your neck from being hunched over your laptop all day, and the exhaustion creeping into your mind, you admit to yourself that you can’t handle it. Not all at once. So you pipe up with a pouty little, “Mm-hm.”

“I know, baby,” he coos. “Come here. Dad’s got you.” 

Your brain really does melt into sugary-sweet syrup at that. Matt carefully guides you to sit up, then pulls you onto his lap. Your back settles against his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, murmuring, “That’s it. Just need Dad to take your mind off it for a little while, hm?”

You glance warily at your laptop, notebook, and highlighters discarded on the coffee table before nodding. Matt’s hands guide your legs to spread apart for him. Fingertips glide up your inner thigh, then skim down the front of your panties to brush over your clit. Instinctively, your hips roll to meet his touch. He chuckles softly into your ear.

“Go on.” His hand slips into your panties and splays over your entire cunt, middle finger pressing perfectly against your clit. You gasp at the direct contact. “Take when you need, honey.”

You start to grind against his fingers, breaths coming in soft pants. At first, he kept still. But once your hips begin to move a little faster, he starts to trace teasing circles around your sensitive bud. 

“Matt,” you whine with need. He lands a sharp tap to your clit and you moan, high and breathy.

“Mmm. Listen to that.” He gives your clit a dozen more quick taps that make sticky little noises each time. “Getting so wet for your dad.” 

Unexpectedly, tears well up in your eyes. This is horrible. Disgusting. Depraved. You could die of humiliation. But your body is too focused on chasing a much-needed release. Your slick is already coating Matt’s fingers, and the nerves in your clit are practically buzzing under his attention. You’d walk barefoot over broken glass if it meant that Matt would make you cum your brains out as a reward.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, now slowly rolling your clit between his thumb and forefinger, making your hips jerk helplessly. He smiles against the back of your shoulder. “Dad knows you love when he plays with you. Makes your little brain go all fuzzy, doesn’t it?”

You nod dumbly, then whimper when Matt’s fingers retreat.

“Shh.” He kisses the spot under your ear that makes a fresh gush of wetness soak through your panties. You’re about to throw a fit until you feel Matt’s hands working behind your lower back, shoving his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. 

Then, he guides you to lift your hips so he can slide his cock through your wet folds. His fat, leaking tip nudges at your entrance and you whine, “ ‘s not gonna fit!”

“Dad will make it fit,” he reassures you before starting to ease his cock inside. A hiss slips through his teeth as your poor pussy struggles to accept his girth without any preparation. You’ve done it before, but not like this. Never like this. You sense the restraint in his hips, like he’s holding himself back from simply slamming inside you, damn the consequences. Instead, his thumb finds your clit and he works it in slow circles, panting, “Come on, honey. Relax for me.”

You try. Really, you do. But your inner walls keep fluttering and making it more difficult for Matt to ease his way inside. Your bottom lip wobbles as you will your muscles to relax. The second there’s the tiniest bit of wiggle-room, Matt stuffs his cock deeper inside you, working your clit all the while.

“That’s my girl,” he groans once you’re able to take him all the way down to the hilt. “Sweet, perfect girl.”

Careful to keep you balanced on his lap so you won’t fall forward, he starts to thrust up into you. Slow and gentle at first, making you moan and roll your hips back to meet his. Then harder, faster, pounding up into your sweet spot like it owes him money.

“Oh, my god, Matt-” you babble, tits bouncing with each rough thrust. He truly hasn’t fucked you like this – with deep, quick, overwhelming thrusts – in months. In fear of toppling over, you reach back and tangle a hand in Matt’s hair to anchor yourself to him. Your other hand scrambles to clutch at the couch.

“Say it,” he pants next to your ear. Before you can register it, his fingers find your clit again, tapping it in time with his quick thrusts. “C’mon, honey, don’t be shy.”

“Dad!” 

“Louder.”

“Dad!”

You’re close already. A mind-numbing orgasm is building in your core at an embarrassingly rapid pace. Out of every single time you two have made love, it’s never felt this intense. This deep. This bonded. Your inner walls start to squeeze rhythmically around his cock and the fingers at your clit switch from tapping to rubbing. You wail even louder than you had over the phone, back when all of this began.

“Gonna be a big one, huh?” he pants and you hear the shit-eating grin in his tone. You’d tell him to shut up if your mouth weren’t lax with dumbed-out moans. He works your clit impossibly faster, utterly ruthless and indifferent to the absolutely overwhelmed, trembling state of your body. “I’ve got you, kid. Cum on dad’s cock.” 

You do, crying out high and loud and ragged as your release hits you with all the force of a freight train. Your cunt contracts around Matt’s cock and your release gushes out of you so quickly that you think you might faint. And Matt – your perverted, absolutely insane boyfriend – doesn’t stop rubbing your clit.

“Matt!” You gasp, oversensitive beyond belief, and all but claw at the back of his neck. “Wait!” 

He doesn’t wait, of course. No, he makes sure the constant stimulation keeps you worked up. With a few perfectly-aimed thrusts, you’re about ready to cum all over again. You make a weak sound that sounds foreign to your own ears. He ruts into you like he might die if he doesn’t coax a second orgasm out of your sore cunt.

“God, forgive me,” he rasps, voice breaking as he braces his forehead against your shoulder. “Gonna- uhn-” His breathy words bubble up into a near whimper. “Mm- Cum. Gonna cum.” 

You nod frantically

“Yeah? Want dad’s cum?” Matt pants against the back of your neck. All you can do is cry in response. His thrusts get sloppy but his fingers don’t falter, and you both fall over the edge at once. All you can feel is the warmth of his release filling you and your own orgasm drenching his cock before you both collapse into each other.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you slur when your mouth remembers how to function again. Usually, Matt would scold you for taking the Lord’s name in vain. You look over your shoulder to see him with his head leaned back against the top of the couch, one thick arm draped over his eyes as he catches his breath. 

“I think,” he says between gulps of air, “I pulled something in my back.” 

A breathless laugh punches its way out of your chest. You push a few strands of sweat-dampened hair off your forehead and clear your throat a little.

“So, this dad thing.” You look down between your thighs to see the mess the two of you made. “It works?”

“Yeah,” he pants, and you’ve never seen him so beat-down before. It makes you smile. 

“Promise?”

Matt’s free hand finds yours and immediately interlocks your pinkies. The pinky promise goes unspoken but it holds just as much weight as any other. You swivel your hips to stir his softening cock inside you, grinning. “Love you, dad.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

the rape fantasy was the easy part, but it was more difficult to get him on board with the dad stuff. but once he did... oh boy.

you were face down on the bed, black tears and drool staining your satin pillow cases. your fingers gripped onto anything within reach as matt plowed into you from behind. his large hands gripped your hips and you were certain they were going to leave bruises behind. his pace was brutal and shook your whole body with every thrust.

he wrestled you into this position with ease, despite the fight you attempted to put up. you started on your hands and knees, but your sensitive body was too weak to hold yourself up for long. you fell down, flat on your stomach, which invited a new experience for pleasure.

matt’s heavy body pinned you down, though you were past the point of trying to squirm away. you hadn't entirely lost your fight, however.

"dad, please stop," you whimpered out. you weren't sure if he could even hear you through the pillow.

your defiance made his grip on you tighter. he loved when you pushed back and gave him an excuse to be mean. he pulled you back onto his cock, which drove it against your cervix and made you yelp.

“you know what the best part about having a daughter is?” he asked through clenched teeth. one hand left your hip to hold onto the headboard, and he leaned over your body so his mouth was next to your ear.

you moaned in response, because dad is strict on manners and he expects you to acknowledge when he asks you a question.

“i can do whatever i want to her and she’ll still love me,” he said. the smirk on his lips burned into your temple.

“I hate to leave you like this,” Matt sighs, pushing my hair out of my face as his dark silhouette sits beside me on the bed.

I lay curled up in a ball after spending majority of the night sick. I feel terrible because I kept Matt up when he had to be up early for his flight to Chicago today.

Despite my attempts to avoid disturbing him, he spent most of the night beside me, rubbing my back while I hunched over the toilet and bringing me water.

I toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position as my restlessness and nausea worsen by the second.

Matt’s hand touches my forehead, gently pushing my hair back and mindlessly scratching my head. I sit up as another wave of nausea twists my stomach, and I take a deep breath, hoping to suppress it. Matt sits up behind me, his hand now rubbing my back as I lean over the side of the bed with my head between my knees.

Thankfully, a moment later the wave of sickness passes and I sit up straight with a small groan as my body aches.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to get you sick, and you have to be up in a few hours,” I croak, but he protests, gently pulling me back into bed.

"I don't give a fuck. I'll sleep on the plane, you're staying right here,"

As the morning light begins to filter through the curtains, Matt’s alarm goes off. By then, we had maybe collectively slept an hour and I knew he must have been exhausted. He got ready quietly trying his best not to disturb me, but I was already awake.

I don’t think sleep is in the cards for me tonight.

He places the back of his hand on my forehead, then my cheek, his touch gentle and searching.

“You still don’t have a fever...I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” He sighs, his fingers sifting through my hair with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

Even with the faint light of dawn as our only source, I can still make out his concerned expression as he scans my face.

“I've never been this sick before. It must be a bug,” My voice is hoarse from repeatedly throwing up.

“Please, stay here with Nick while I’m gone so you have someone to look after you. I’m gonna text him now so he sees it when he wakes up. God, I don’t even want to go anymore,” He wipes his hand down his face in stress and I shake my head.

“No, stop, don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll stay here with Nick. Please don’t be late for your flight,” I insist, gripping his hand weakly. “I’m going to make some tea and try to get some rest.” I go to get up but he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll make you tea, while we wait for the Uber. What do you want, mint?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing up and down my hip.

I nod weakly, thanking him.

I doze off a bit while he goes to make my tea, the repercussion of not sleeping catching up to me. When I open my eyes again, he’s setting my steaming mug on the bedside shelf carefully and placing two advils next to it.

“Text me when you wake up? And let me know if you have to go to urgent care, I’ll send you an Uber.” He tells me softly, his voice trembling with an emotion he’s trying to hide.

His reluctance to leave is evident in every line of his face.

I nod tiredly, “Mm, text me when you and Chris land. Have fun in Chicago. I love you.”

“I love you,” He kisses my forehead, before grabbing his suitcase by his bedroom door and leaving.

I was able to sleep a couple of more hours before I woke up again, dry heaving into the toilet because I quite literally had nothing left in my stomach.

I showered, brushed my teeth and went into the kitchen, searching for something bland to settle my stomach. I had decided to grab a rice cake and made more mint tea before I sprawled out on the couch in one of Matt’s hoodies.

It’s not the first time he’s been away, but this time, I miss him more than I anticipated. Even the scent of his hoodie brings a wave of emotion that catches me off guard.

We’ve never been one of those couples that spends every second of every day together anyway. Not even when we first started dating. We’ve always given each other the space we need.

But I must admit I could go for one of his hugs right now.

It’s around 10 AM when Nick comes down stairs and his face tells me everything I need to know about my appearance.

“I know, I look like shit.” I deadpan and he covers his mouth with wide eyes.

“I got Matt’s texts...I thought that motherfucker was being dramatic. Are you feeling any better?” He asks with a hand on his chest.

“Well, I haven’t thrown up in three hours, so that’s a new record. Your poor brother, I kept him up all night,”

“He'll live, do you want to go to urgent care?”

“No, I’ll wait it out. It’s gotta pass and I was able to keep my breakfast down.” I wave a hand.

Nick goes to make his own breakfast, slicing an apple before coming over to sit on the couch with me.

“Apple?” He offers me, munching on his own bite.

I decline shaking my head with a frown.

Nick wanted to watch Love Island, so I let him change the TV, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. As the sounds of the show filled the room, I found myself dozing off, giving in to the rest my body needs.

When I wake up, I have a blanket over me and Nick is editing on his laptop.

He notices me move and takes his headphones off one ear.

“Hey, you feeling better? Matt keeps pestering me for updates,” He shows me his phone with messages from a worried Matt.

I sigh, “Jesus...I’ll call him. But yes, I feel better now that I've gotten some sleep.” I get up and stretch my body, wincing at my achy muscles.

“How long was I out?” I ask grabbing my phone to see my own set of messages from Matt.

Kid worries too much.

“About 3 hours, you were knocked out. I’m gonna order food, are you hungry for anything?” He asks and my stomach rumbles at the thought of one food.

“I could fuck up some tacos right now,” I raise an eyebrow at him at my suggestion.

“I like the way you’re thinking.” He snaps his fingers pointing at me in agreement.

“Birria tacos for me and a Diet Coke. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go call your brother before he has a heart attack.” I say walking to Matt’s room and calling him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey,” He breaths out, his voice soft.

“What did I tell you about worrying about me?” I tease him and he laughs, sounding relieved.

"Hi!" I heard Chris shout in the background, before I heard a door close and Matt sigh. I'm guessing he went into a separate room.

“If you saw the state you were in before I left this morning, you’d be worried too. I take it you’re feeling better? Heard you napped,” He speaks up again, talking at a normal volume now.

“I was physically feeling the state I was in. But, yeah, a little better after my nap. How was your flight?” I ask, playing with the trinkets on his shelves.

“Besides me worrying the entire flight about you dehydrating and dying? Fine. A little turbulence, but nothing crazy.”

“Okay, drama, relax. I’m staying hydrated, I’ve napped, Nick and I are about to order some tacos. It must have just been a bug. I must admit, you're very cute when you worry about me though.” I smile and he hums shly.

A beat of silence goes by and I look at the photobooth picture of Matt and I on his wall.

“I miss you,” I admit to him, leaning down to inhale the collar of his sweatshirt on me.

“I miss you too. You know I haven't even been gone 12 hours though,” He reminds me, sounding amused at my unexpected sappyness.

I sigh, “I know,”

Suddenly I have a lump of emotion in my throat and he automatically hears the switch of my tone.

“Hey woah, what happened? Why are you upset?” He sounds panicked.

“Oh my god, sorry. I don’t know. I’m not even sad,” I choke back my tears.

“Doesn’t sound like it.." He doesn't sound convinced. "Do I need to come home?" He says next and I'm immediately objecting.

“What! No. Matt, I promise I’m fine.” I tell him quickly, taking off my hoodie as I begin to overheat.

“I love you... I’ll be back before you know it, okay? S'nothing we haven’t done before.” He reminds me softly and my bottom lip wobbles.

“Mhm,” I manage to get out and he sighs again.

“Sweetheart... You’re telling me not to be worried, but I’m beyond worried. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He pleads and I shake my head even though he can't see me.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you...I-i think I just needed to cry, and missing you isn’t helping because I wish I could hug you but you’re so f-far,” I hiccup.

“Okay, deep breaths, how about you take a nice hot shower–maybe a bath. Use Nick’s bath and when you’re done, you can eat your tacos and you’ll feel better. Okay? Listen, Chris and I are about to leave for dinner, are you going to be alright?” He checks in, sounding hesitant to hang up.

“Yes, I’m fine. Seriously. I’m sorry. I must be starting my period soon.” I compose myself, trying to ignore the sudden ache in my heart.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his voice gentle and sweet.

Any other time, he’d be teasing me for being a crybaby—lovingly, of course—but I think he senses that my emotions are genuinely beyond my control right now.

“I love you,” he says again with emphasis, wanting to hear me say it back.

“I love you, so much," I say weakly, "Have fun at dinner and tell Chris I said hi.” I tell him, wiping my eyes.

“Will do. I’ll call you when we get back.” He says goodbye, hanging up.

I take a deep breath and I shake my head, feeling frustrated with my poorly-timed emotions. I feel terrible for worrying him more, I wanted this trip for him to be fun. Chris had really been looking forward to going with Matt—it had become a sort of tradition for the two of them. I need to get my emotions under control.

I wince again as I feel the heaviness and soreness in my breasts. Sighing, I go to my phone and check my period app to see when this torture will be over.

My stomach drops when I open the app and see I'm 13 days late.

My head feels dizzy suddenly and I pinch my eyes closed as the pit in my stomach spurs on more nausea. I lay back and put my arm over my eyes and take deep breaths.

My mind races, but I can’t seem to focus on one thought.

No, I can’t be.

I’m just stressed, that’s all.

I have an IUD, it's not possible.

But everything's adding up; the nausea, heightened emotions, late period...

I sit up slowly, feeling the weight of the realization settle on me. My heart pounds in my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. But there’s no escaping this.

With trembling hands, I go to call Matt back, my thumb hovers over the call button but I stop myself. He’s going to dinner right now, on the opposite side of the country.

I can't burden him with this, not when I don’t even know for sure.

Dropping my phone onto the bed beside me, I try to self soothe, taking deep breaths to steady myself, but the anxiety is relentless.

I walk out of the room and Nick is asking me what kind of salsa I want with my tacos before he looks up at me. He immediately furrows his brows in worry.

“Hey–what's going on, are you okay?” He sits up and places his laptop on the coffee table.

“I-I can't breath,” I gasp, reaching out for him, feeling like a little kid.

He instantly stands up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“What’s happened? Deep breaths, big deep breaths. There you go,” He rubs my back and I breath deeply with him.

My cheek smushed into his chest as I listen to the beating of his heart to help ground me. I pull away, still trembling and shake my head, unsure if I should even be telling Nick this.

This should be Matt.

Nick's eyes search mine, sensing my hesitancy. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” he says softly, his hands rubbing my shoulders.

I bite my lip, feeling a mix of guilt and desperation.

I don’t want to drag Nick into something so personal, but this is too overwhelming to keep bottled up.

“I… I think I might be pregnant,” I finally whisper, the words barely escaping my lips.

Saying it out loud makes it feel all the more real, and the weight of it presses down on me like a ton of bricks.

Nick’s expression shifts from worry to shock, his mouth falling agape and silence ringing between us. Once he hears me whimper, he snaps out of it and brings me back into a bone crushing hug.

"Shh, okay–it's okay, um…” His voice wavers, and I can feel his heart racing against my cheek.

For a moment, it seems like he’s trying to find the right words, but all that comes out is a nervous laugh.

“This is… wow, this is big. I'm sorry– I don't know what else to say right now,” His voice high pitched and shaky.

I can’t help but let out a shaky laugh with him, even through my anxiety.

“Yeah, big,” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nick pulls back just enough to look at me, his uncertainty showing in the way his eyes dart around, trying to process everything at once.

“I mean, I’m no expert on this—obviously—but we'll figure this out. You're gonna be okay, everything's gonna be okay.”

His reassurance is genuine, but I can see he's trying to convince himself too; a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

This is uncharted territory for both of us.

Nick and I had decided to order the tests along with the food, killing two birds with one stone. He’s doing his best to stay calm for my sake, but the trembling of his hands as he places the order is hard to miss.

"Okay, tacos and tests are on the way. I got, well, all of them because I don't know which one is best. I even got ice cream. Fuck, when did it get so hot in here? I'm overheating–are you overheating?" He says, his words moving a mile a minute as he fans himself with his shirt.

I can't help but to laugh as his nerves show and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I know you're the one potentially knocked up by my idiot brother but I'm just so nervous. I'm sweating like a monster," His voice cracks.

"Do you mind if I use your bath?" I ask and he nods right away.

“Are you kidding? Of course, go ahead. Someone has to use it. I’m gonna…Well, I’ll just wait out here and try to chill.” He gives me a quick, reassuring smile, though it’s clear he’s still on edge.

I head to his bathroom and try to forget about my racing thoughts.

I turn the faucet on and put in some bath salts, checking the temperature before I step over to the vanity mirror. I take a look at my appearance and notice the puffiness in my face right away. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bloodshot.

I blow out a raspberry as I undress and get into the hot water.

The heat soothes my aching muscles and clears my mind. I soaked for a while, even draining a bit of the water and refilling the tub with more hot water. Once I feel myself pruning, I decide it's time I get out.

As I dry myself off, I notice light blood on the towel. My heart races, and I quickly check again—I'm bleeding. Very lightly, but there’s blood.

Relief floods through me, and I almost cry again, this time from the emotional whiplash. My legs feel shaky, so I sit down on the edge of the tub to steady myself, my breath coming out in shaky bursts.

Clutching the towel to my chest, I close my eyes and let out a long, relieved sigh.

“Thank God,” I whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I try not to dwell on the small part of me that almost wanted to feel disappointed. Maybe even mourning the part of me that might have embraced being pregnant–excited, even.

Instead, I focus on center of my emotions, the part where a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Eventually, I pull myself together, cleaning myself up and getting dressed.

When I step out of the bathroom, Nick is on his bed, clearly trying to keep himself distracted. My eyes go to the food and the tests at the foot of the bed.

As soon as he sees me, he shoots up, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft. I nod, a small smile breaking through the lingering anxiety.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “I uh…I got my period, I think,”

Nick’s face lights up with relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Oh, thank God,” he shouts, “This is great fucking news—right?” He checks in and I nod.

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a little dazed by how quickly everything has turned around. “I think we’re in the clear. We won't be needing those tests, I'll pay you back for them,"

Nick ignores me, pulling me into a bear hug, his arms so tight around me, I can barely breath.

“Shut up I don't care,” he says, “You don't have a parasite in you!" He cheers, jumping us up and down.

We both let out laughs, the tension that had been looming over us now replaced with a lightness.

“Let’s eat,” I suggest, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Nick nods, "Couldn't agree more,"

We sit on his bed and for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually breathe.

As we dig into the tacos, Nick puts Love Island back on and we rot in bed for a few hours.

But even as we talk and laugh, there's still a pit in my stomach. A small portion of me can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over yet.

Yeah, there's was blood. But it was different than my normal period. It was lighter.

I try not to panic, but I can't help but feel like my intuition is trying to tell me something. For now, I push my thoughts aside, focusing on Nick beside me yelling at the annoying horny people on his TV.

Nick offered for me to sleep in his room but I declined, wanting to sleep in Matt's bed.

Matt never called me, but he texted me apologizing and checking in on me. I listened to a voice memo he sent me of all they did today and I was genuinely glad he was having fun, so I didn't mind him not calling.

Plus, I'm not entirely sure I'm in the right state of mind to have a conversation with him right now. I wouldn't be able to keep today's events to myself.

I know I can’t keep him in the dark—I need to tell him what’s going on.

I glance at the stack of tests on his dresser and sigh. The bleeding from earlier has stopped, leaving me with a pit in my stomach.

I know I’ll have to take those tests, even if only for clarity. But for now, I’m going to force myself to sleep.

I find myself in a place that feels both familiar and strange. It's warm, the sun showering the garden and I immediately know I'm in my grandmother's backyard.

The breeze picks up, carrying the scent of blooming flowers—lilies, hyacinths, peonies, and marigolds—enveloping me in a peacefulness that feels like a comforting blanket.

I walk along the familiar stone path, my fingers grazing the soft petals of the flowers. Each step feeling like a compelling, magnetic pull, guiding me deeper into the garden.

I see her then–my grandmother, seated on a wooden bench beneath the shade of the large oak tree I used to climb as a child.

My breath hitches, she doesn't look sick. Her smile is lively, her cheeks rosy and the green in her eyes vibrant.

But there’s something else different, a kind of ethereal glow about her that sends a chill down my spine.

“Come here, my girl,” she says, her voice soft and inviting.

I walk over to her, feeling a strange mix of emotions: comfort, longing, and an inexplicable sadness.

I sit down beside her and she takes my hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, unable to fathom her not sick in a hospital bed.

She smiles, her eyes full of love. “I haven't gone anywhere."

There’s a pause as I try to process her words, but then she looks at me knowingly, another shiver down my spine.

"You're glowing," She hums, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I look at her confused until she places a hand to my stomach. My breath hitches and I can't control the tear that rolls down my cheek.

I shake my head in disbelief, "How...d-do you know?" I whisper, my voice getting lost in the intoxicating breeze.

It's then that I feel a deep flutter in my stomach, one that I can't describe.

I place my hand over my grandmother's that still rests on my stomach. The flutter intensifies, my heart mimicking the pattern as warmth blooms in my chest. The feeling is overwhelming.

An unexpected, joyous sob escapes my lips before I can stop it, tears blurring my vision.

“You're both going to be okay,” My grandmother says softly, gently wiping away my tears.

My lip wobbles and I let out a shaky breath before she speaks up again.

“She’s strong too, just like you.”

“She..?” I squeak. My grandmother’s smile returns, softer this time and she nods.

A wave of shock and confusion washes over me, but before I can ask more, the garden begins to fade. The colors bleeding into each other until everything is a swirl of light.

Her voice echoes as the dream dissolves, “Don't be afraid, Petal.”

I shoot up, my heart racing, my face soaked in tears and my body covered in a cold sweat. I feel disoriented as I take in my surroundings and my mind tries to grasp the remnants of the dream.

My grandmother’s face, her words, the fluttering in my stomach. But now, that fluttering has turned into a twisting feeling in my gut.

Something was wrong.

My phone buzzes, startling me out of my tangled, fuzzy thoughts. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for my phone.

It’s my mom.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice thick with sleep and confusion.

There’s a pause on the other end, and then my mom’s voice comes through, shaky and heavy with emotion.

“Honey...I'm sorry I'm calling you so early, but it’s Grandma....Sh-she passed in her sleep early this morning.”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She continues to talk but I can't hear her, my ears ring and time slows down.

A flood of emotions overcome me.

Grief, shock, and the strange sense that the dream was more than just a figment of my imagination.

As the reality of her passing sinks in, I’m left with the weight of her final words to me. She was telling me something important, something I can’t ignore anymore.

My stomach twists again and I bolt to the bathroom where I throw up until I'm dry heaving into the toilet.

-

I'm not even shocked when the test immediately shows up positive. I stare blankly at the two pink lines, the only hint of emotion is the tremor in my hand as I grab the test and chuck it into the trash can.

I feel numb.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see the emptiness in my eyes, the darkness encasing them. The person staring back is a stranger.

I'm pregnant.

I should be feeling joy, maybe even excitement—I want to at least, but all I feel is nothing. My experience overshadowed by my grief. By the anomaly of this situation, how this could have happened.

I have an IUD, I was bleeding, but here we are.

I wanted Matt to be the first to know, to share in that moment with him, but now everything feels wrong, out of order.

I feel robbed of the happiness I should be feeling.

I step into the shower and let the scalding hot water claw at my skin. I finally let myself break down, grief rattling through me and slicing me open.

My dream replays in my mind over and over again. My grandmother's eyes, her warmth, her words, her hand on my stomach.

“You’re both going to be okay,”

My hand instinctively goes to my stomach. I press my palm into my abdomen, expecting to feel that flutter, desperate to feel any sort of connection with the life that's there–to cling to the intense joy from my dream...but there's nothing.

It was ripped away from me from the moment I woke up.

“She’s strong too, just like you,”

I whimper, the sound dissolving into the rush of the water.

I don’t feel strong. I feel weak.

My grandmother told me not to be afraid, but I can’t escape this overwhelming anxiety, the suffocating uncertainty that engulfs me.

The tightness in my chest, the heaviness in my heart, the deep-seated guilt that festers within me.

I cry and cry and cry until I can’t anymore, until the tears run dry, leaving only the ache in my chest.

When the water turns cold and the sun fully rises, is when I finally get out. My feet drag beneath me as I walk back into Matt's room and get dressed.

I pull on one of Matt's crewnecks and some sweats before I go into the kitchen to make a tea.

I make myself an Earl Grey, my grandmother's favorite.

I sit down at the dining table and book the first flight back home to Maine, which is tomorrow morning. My mom and I spoke again and she told me the funeral isn't until next week, but I wanted to be there for her. I couldn’t stay here right now.

My stomach growls loudly and I press my palms into my eye sockets. I suppose I should really eat something with substance, especially now.

I grab the berries from the fridge that are in their last leg, washing them before forcing myself to eat. The tartness of the blueberries sparks a memory of helping my grandmother make blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings. I smile sadly at the fond memory of being her little sous chef.

When 7 AM rolls around, restlessness overtakes me and I step outside, sitting in the front stoop before calling Matt.

"You're up early," His voice thick with sleep as he greets me through the line.

"Hey," I say weakly, letting out a sigh as I gaze up at the clear sky. There's not a single cloud in sight.

"What's wrong?" His tone immediately shifts to concern.

"Matt... my grandma passed this morning," I start, my voice trembling slightly.

I omit the dream and the positive pregnancy test in his bathroom, grateful that he can't see my face.

There's a heavy sigh on the other end. "I'm so sorry. I know she was sick for a while... Are you doing okay? How's your mom?"

"I'm... managing. And my mom, she's actually doing okay. I think we're all relieved in a way, you know? It was only a matter of time. I'm just glad she's not suffering anymore," I navigate my feelings about her passing, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Of course," His voice is so soft, fueling my longing for his touch.

"Do you think…there's any way you can change your flight on Tuesday to go to Maine? The funeral isn’t until next Thursday, but I’m getting there tomorrow afternoon." I ask, playing with a loose string on my sweatpants.

"Of course, I'll look at flights right now," he responds without hesitation.

"Thank you, I just....I need you there," I tell him, feeling a tightness in my chest when I avoid mentioning the conversation we need to have.

"I'll be there. I found a flight that will get me there tomorrow night."

"Matt–" I start to protest.

"I already changed it. No refunds," He cuts me off, his voice firm. "Sweetheart, you need me, I'm not going to make you wait until fucking Tuesday."

"What about the rest of your trip? You'll miss the rest of the festival, and Chris–" I try and reason with him.

"Listen to me carefully...I don't give a fuck about the festival. You need me there, and I'm going to be there. Chris will be fine, he's a big boy. He has Sam here with him and they'll fly back to LA together," His tone leaving no room for argument, his mind was made up.

A small, grateful smile tugs at my lips as tears well up in my eyes.

"I love you," I manage to say, my voice trembles with emotion.

"I love you, so much it hurts. I wish I could hug you right now but I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I’m gonna go talk to Chris, text me or call me if you need me. I mean it, kid."

“I will,” I promise, ending the call and looking up at the sky again, wrapping my arms around myself as the cool morning air brushes against my skin.

I take a deep breath, the air filling my lungs grounding me. As I exhale, I try to focus on the one thing I know for sure—I may not feel strong, but I need to be and not just for myself, but for the life growing inside of me.

My grandmother's words echo in my mind.

"Don't be afraid, Petal."

–

Nick wakes up shortly after, only taking one look at me before I’m breaking down again—the weight of everything crashing down on me like another tidal wave.

I tell him everything, my dream, my grandmother's passing, I show him the positive pregnancy test.

I cry into his chest, feeling overwhelmed.

"I'm just s-so confused," I manage to say between sobs. "In my dream, I was so happy... everything felt right. I felt connected with..." My words trail off, dissolving into incoherent blubbering.

Nick just listens, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.

"Listen," he begins softly, "your body is under a lot of stress right now. You just found out about your grandma, and then this very unexpected news on top of it… Every single emotion you’re feeling is normal, and 100 percent valid. But you have so many people by your side who love you and will help you through this, no matter what you decide..."

I sniffle, trying to regulate my breathing as I take in his words.

"I'm angry, too," I admit, my voice cracking with the strain of holding it all in. "This is so unfair. The timing of this couldn't be worse... I can't even talk to Matt and I feel awful keeping this from him. He shouldn't have to find out like this."

"Everything is going to be okay, deep breaths," Nick repeats, his voice calm as he helps me process the flood of emotions.

I blow out a raspberry, pulling back and running my hands down my face in frustration. When I look at him, he's watching me cautiously, trying to read my expression.

"I'm pregnant," I say softly, the words finally leaving my lips for the first time.

A mix of emotions swirls in my chest and stomach—fear, uncertainty, a strange kind of acceptance.

Nick nods slowly, his eyes still scanning my face, and for a moment, I find myself imagining if this was me telling Matt.

More dread fills me.

How will he react? Will he be the support I need?

We’ve talked about having kids before. They were always in the cards for us, but never this soon.

We only just started to discuss getting our own place and now our lives are going to be changing forever.

Nick helped me pack as I tried to arrange a last-minute appointment to confirm my pregnancy, which proved to be quite the ordeal.

The receptionists initially inform me that they didn't have any openings for weeks. However, when I mention the IUD and a positive pregnancy test, the urgency in their voice shifted dramatically.

They told me to come in right away.

The urgency in the receptionists voice on the phone didn’t help my nerves. Neither when they took me straight into an examination room the minute I told them my name.

They take my vitals, draw my blood and give me a cup to pee in.

I left Nick in the waiting room, dressing down into the gown they placed neatly on the exam chair. I look around at the diagrams of the fetuses and the posters of the development. I’ve seen these countless times and never thought twice, but this time I feel unsettled.

I swallow thickly and sit on the loud crinkly paper with the anticipation of the doctor coming in soon.

There’s a soft double knock on the door before a head of wild, curly hair peeks in.

“Hello, hello. I’m Dr. Sullivan,” She says washing her hands and sitting down on the swivel stool next to the examination chair.

The woman has a mane of big, unruly curls that frame her face, with chunky black square-framed glasses perched on her slightly humped nose, drawing attention to her bright hazel eyes. A wide smile, complete with a distinctive gap between her two front teeth, radiates warmth and adds to her quirky charm. She almost seems like a character out of a cartoon—lanky, with an energetic, bouncy stride that matches her bubbly personality. She can't be much older than my mother.

"So, you are in fact pregnant. The lab results confirmed the presence of HCG, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy. "

“Do you have any idea how this happened? I mean, obviously I know how it happened but, I have an IUD.” I say, still trying to wrap my head around the situation.

She nods dramatically, her lips pressing into a line as she listens to my concerns.

“Unfortunately, no birth control is 100 percent effective. In most cases, the IUD might have been displaced, or in some instances, the body rejects the device without you knowing. I actually would like to get clarity on that with an ultrasound, but I think it’s important for you to know the risks of this scenario here.” She says, turning slightly more serious.

“Risks?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says softly, “There is a possibility that, due to you having an IUD, this pregnancy may not be viable. Having an IUD increases the risk of what we call an ectopic pregnancy... are you familiar with that term?” Her hazel eyes lock onto mine and I shake my head, my heart starting to pound.

“Well, because you have a contraceptive device in the space where a fetus would normally develop, there's a risk that the pregnancy could occur outside the uterus. Typically the egg will implant itself in the fallopian tubes, which cannot host a safe or viable pregnancy...And if not treated immediately, the tube can rupture and cause internal hemorrhaging," She explains gently, carefully choosing her words to convey the seriousness of the situation.

I feel my heartbeat in my ears now as I process her words.

"So you're saying, this can be life threatening...for me and the..." My throat closes up and I can't finish my sentence.

She must take notice of the panic in my face, her round eyes widening slightly.

"If it goes untreated, yes. But I don't say this to make you panic, you're in good hands and whatever happens, we will take the next steps together." She places a hand on my knee, giving the tissue box so I can dry my uncontrollable tears.

"Based on your last period, you should be about seven weeks along. This ultrasound will confirm that and also ensure the pregnancy is positioned in the uterus. Before we proceed, I'd like to ask you a few questions... do you need a minute?" she asks gently, noticing my unease.

I hiccup and shake my head. "N-no, I'll be okay. Sorry," I mumble, wiping my nose.

"Don't apologize," she says kindly, giving me a moment to collect myself anyway, which I appreciate.

For a moment, I consider calling Nick in, but I decide against it. Even though we're close, this may be a little too personal, even for him and I.

"Have you been experiencing any cramping or discomfort in your back or abdomen?" She asks and typing my answer into the computer as I tell her no.

"Any spotting or bleeding?"

"I had some light bleeding last night, it only lasted maybe an hour... I had thought it was my period, but I knew something was off." I explain to her and she nods.

"That was most likely implantation bleeding, which is normal. It can be light spotting of blood, or some women experience heavy bleeding, similar to a period." She continues to take her notes before looking to me again, "Any tenderness in your breasts?"

"Oh, for sure. My breasts have been very sore the past few days,"

"Any nausea or vomiting?"

"Yes, the last couple of days–especially at night, I've been vomiting. I haven't really been sleeping well because of it."

"Yeah, the term 'morning sickness' is misleading... It can happen any time of day, you seem to be experiencing yours during the evening. Any other symptoms you've noticed that you'd like to note?" She asks and I try to think of some things.

"Uhh, I guess I've been more tired than usual, but I chalked that up to being up all night sick...I've also been getting hot flashes recently and I've definitely been more emotional,"

"These are all good to note, thank you very much," She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before typing again.

She swivels herself back towards me, smiling warmly.

"We'll go ahead with the ultrasound now. But to get an accurate picture, we're going to do a transvaginal ultrasound, if that's okay with you."

"Okay, that's fine," I say, shakily.

She pulls the ultrasound cart to toward her before standing to move the stirrups into place so I can place my feet into them. She places a privacy cloth over me and I take a deep breath.

She puts a covering on the sheath of the ultrasound wand and places lubricant on the top of it. She taps a few buttons on the computer, calibrating the machine before turning towards me with a reassuring smile.

"So this will feel cold and you might feel a little pressure but if you feel any discomfort don't be afraid to tell me." She informs before placing the device inside to create the image.

I try not to wince and try to relax as much as possible. I go to look toward the screen but she has it faced towards her, so I opt to reading her facial expressions.

Dr. Sullivan adjusts her glasses by putting them on the tip of her nose and tilting her head back to get a better view.

She's quite animated with her expressions, her mouth opening slightly in concentration as she looks over the screen.

Although I can't see what she's looking at, she seems pleased, which is a relief.

"Okay, so good sign so far, I see your IUD," Dr. Sullivan says, leaning forward and pointing to the screen. "I can clearly see that it's sitting at the top of your cervix. It’s shifted down and away from your uterus. Do you happen to experience heavy cramping during your cycle?" she asks, her fingers tapping some buttons on the monitor.

"Yes, I do," I reply, the worry still gnawing at me.

She nods thoughtfully. "That could explain the displacement. Sometimes, intense cramping can cause the IUD to shift from its original position. It’s not common, but it does happen. It’s good that we’ve caught it now."

"I see the embryonic sac in, from what I can tell, a great spot. You're measuring at about 6 or 7 weeks along. Size of a blueberry." She says and I stop breathing.

I don't even hesitate to say yes as she asks if I would like to see.

My eyes are glued to the screen as I follow where her finger points, focusing on the grainy image. There it is—a tiny black oval with an even tinier dot in the middle. It's so small, I almost think I'm looking at the wrong thing.

“That’s... them?” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I try to comprehend the sight in front of me.

Dr. Sullivan nods, her expression tender. "That's your baby. It's early, but everything looks promising..."

"Really?" I squeak, still in disbelief, my throat tightening with sudden emotion as more tears fall down my face.

Relief— as she nods in confirmation, handing me the tissue box again.

Hope— as she zooms in, showing me the flickering of the heartbeat.

Joy—as I hear the heartbeat, feeling it sync with the thumping of my own.

For the first time since my dream, I feel joy, something beyond the crippling dread that had loomed over me all day. My heart swells and then bursts as I continue to stare at the flickering dot on the screen, blinking away the tears that blur my vision.

I breathe in shakily before a laugh escapes through a sob.

"Nice strong heartbeat, everything looks as it should... this looks like a healthy pregnancy," Dr. Sullivan announces, gently removing the ultrasound wand but keeping a looped video on the screen, allowing me a few more moments to take it all in.

"She's strong too, just like you,"

"So, the next step—for your safety—would be to remove the IUD today," she continues, her tone calm yet serious. "We can also discuss your options moving forward, including your decision on whether or not you would like to continue with the pregnancy. It's important to weigh all the possibilities and make the choice that's right for you."

"I-I'm gonna continue the pregnancy. It was in no way planned, but–"

"You don't need to explain...I had a feeling" She dismisses me gently, giving me a knowing smile, "I guess this calls for a congratulations,"

"Thank you," I say just above my breath, warmth still blooming through my chest.

After Dr. Sullivan removes my IUD, she tells me to dress while she steps out to calculate my due date.

I stare at the printed ultrasound picture, my heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. I’m not worried about the complications or uncertainties ahead right now. All that matters is this life inside me.

I feel much stronger than I did merely hours ago.

My due date was February 7th, the same as my grandmother’s birthday.

–

I had landed in Maine a few hours ago, my mom and I were organizing all of my grandma's belongings. We spent the afternoon together, grabbing lunch before heading over to my grandmother's house.

The house always felt like a time capsule, preserving every memory. The duck wallpaper in the dining room, the scent of pine and clove, the worn couch cushions, her miniature schnauzer figurine collection, and the framed pressed flowers from her children’s weddings—everything was always in its rightful place. It always looked the same.

Memories of me and my siblings spending weekends here whirling behind my eyelids as I inhale the familiar scent.

It evokes a bittersweet feeling.

We keep the mood light, sharing stories with each memory we packed away. I still saw the flicker of sadness in my mom's eyes, even through her laughter as we reminisced.

Sitting on the carpet in the living room, we go through the boxes full of pictures to put together a collage for the funeral. I come across a picture of my mother pregnant with my older brother.

It's a candid photo in the kitchen of my grandmother's house, her hand resting on her swollen belly that pokes out the bottom of her blue shirt, a soft smile on her face. My grandmother is beside her, beaming with pride, tying an apron around her waist.

My mother looked so young, her freckles prominent on her flushed cheeks and her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

I was always told I looked more like my dad, but seeing her like this, so close to my own age now, I can't help but notice the resemblance.

My mom notices my pause and looks over my shoulder. "That was just a few weeks before your brother was born," she says softly, her voice laced with nostalgia. "Your grandmother knew we were having a boy from the moment we told her,"

Her words send a chill down my spine.

I linger on the photo, feeling a wave of emotion rise up at the mention of my grandmother as the weight of my own news presses heavier on my chest.

"Were you really sick, when you were pregnant?" I ask, lowly.

She hums in thought, "With your brother? Only for maybe the first few weeks. With you though? Forget about it, I was sick everyday for months."

I stay silent for a moment, studying another photo of my mom and dad in the hospital room with my brother the day he was born. My mom is in the hospital bed, looking tired but radiant, while my dad is crouched next to her, gently cradling my brother in his arms.

"He was so bald," I laugh softly, and my mom chuckles beside me.

"His hair was so blonde, it was practically see-through. Your father called him 'egghead' for the first two months of his life," she says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes with a smile.

I look at the photo again, my gaze lingering on my mom's face. Her expression is filled with such warmth and love as she looks at my dad.

"How did you tell dad? You guys were both pretty young," I ask and she stifles a laugh.

"We actually found out together in a gas station bathroom..." She starts off with a slightly shameful smile, "I had been so sick on our camping trip with your aunt and uncle, so I decided on our way back home to take a test. We were shocked to say the least, but we were happy," She shrugs casually.

I think about how I was alone when I found out I was pregnant. Matt wasn't there, and it wasn't his fault, but the last 36 hours of keeping this from him has been torture.

The moment I saw the second line show up with fresh cold sweat still rolling down my neck, I had to bottle up this relentless guilt.

I feel guilt. It wasn't anyone's fault. This is the most serendipitous situation I've ever been in, but I put the blame on me. I have a choice and I'm choosing the route that will completely flip our already hectic lives upside down.

Tethering us together for life.

Even if this decision it feels right, it still carries an enormous weight. It’s not just my life that’s about to change—it's Matt’s too.

I have no doubt Matt will be supportive, but when you're left alone with your thoughts long enough, you can convince yourself of anything.

I've spent every waking minute wondering how he'll react, imagining every possible scenario, from the worst to the best. It's been an endless loop of 'what ifs,' and it’s taken everything in me not to just blurt it out over the phone.

"Were you scared at all? I mean, weren't you like 20?" I press, searching for reassurance in her response.

Her eyes widen before nodding, "Oh, we were scared shitless. Your father almost passed out. We had no idea what we were doing, but hey, we survived. For better or for worse,"

I nod, looking down at my lap and fidgeting with my fingers. My chest feels tight, and the weight of everything becomes almost unbearable.

"Mom, there's something I need to tell you... I–"

"I know," She looks at me with a small smile, her green eyes glistening with tears.

My brows furrow together, giving her a confused look.

"You do?" I ask, my voice trembling.

She shrugs, "I know everything, I'm your mom... Plus, you gagged at the smell of chicken today, that was a dead giveaway." She bites back a smirk and I cover my face, laughing through some tears before looking at her again.

"I guess I’m not as good at hiding things as I thought."

"You never were," She says softly as she scoots closer to me, bringing me into her warm embrace.

I sigh deeply into her, squeezing her tight and breathing in her comforting scent.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, still holding onto me.

"Scared shitless..." I joke and we share a laugh before she pulls back to wipe the tears that escaped against my will, "But I'm happy," I admit, scanning my mother's face for any sign of judgement.

There was none.

She wipes her own few tears, looking at me with only love in her eyes.

"My baby's having a baby,"

"I think grandma sent me this baby," I whisper, allowing my emotions to come through.

My mom tucks my hair behind my ear with her gentle, comforting touch and she listens intently as I tell her my dream. We hold onto each other and cry. I then show her the ultrasound pictures and we talk until the sun disappears.

My phone buzzes softly and I check the message to find Matt’s text that he’s landed and on his way. The reality of his imminent arrival causes a mixed-wave of nausea and guilt to wash over me.

My mom looks at me with a reassuring smile.

"I'll leave you two be so you can talk. I'll see you in the morning, my love." She tells me softly, kissing my cheek and hugging me tight.

Matt and I were gonna stay here during our time in Maine. It's best right now that we have our own space, especially since my brother and his girlfriend are staying by my parents house.

As she heads out, I take a deep breath and text Matt to let him know the door is unlocked. I slip into the shower, trying to calm my racing thoughts and steady my nerves. The warm water helps, but my mind keeps racing as I mentally prepare for the conversation ahead.

Wrapped in a towel, I check my reflection in the mirror, trying to see if I look any more put together than before.

I think this is the best we're going to get.

I jump when I here the front door open and shut, then some feet shuffling. My heart skips a beat.

Matt's here.

"It's just me," I hear him call out as well as more shuffling and a paper bag crinkling.

"Hey! I-I'll be right out!" I call back out, my heart picking up again but I take a deep breath.

I quickly get dressed in a tank top and shorts; there's a heat wave here, and I can't figure out how to adjust the thermostat.

I step out of the bathroom to see Matt standing at the kitchen island, unpacking burgers and fries onto the counter. The aroma of it makes my stomach growl and I realize I hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

I admire him for a second; he's wearing pink sweatpants, a black hoodie and a backwards fitted hat.

He turns at the sound of my presence and his face softens. I'm trembling when he steps forward to embrace me into a tight hug. He buries his face into my neck before giving me a few kisses there.

"Hi," I breath out, my voice shaky.

I was so nervous.

"Hey, you okay?" His voice is so soft, my heart aches. He pulls away, rubbing his hands up and down my arms while scanning my face.

"You're shaking. What's going on?" He presses.

He knows something is up, he can see it all over my face. I shake my head, brushing it off to have one more minute with him.

I pull him back to me, wrapping my arms around his neck this time and locking him against me. He bends down a bit to accommodate but doesn't question it, just hugging me back. His arms wrapping around my waist and pressing our stomachs together.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage and I know he can feel it, his thumb rubbing my hip soothingly tells me he does.

"How are you doing?" His voice is muffled with his face buried into my neck.

"I'm okay, better now that you're here. I missed you," I mumble, kissing the side of his neck and running my hand down between his shoulder blades.

I breathe him in, noting the warmth of him and the solidness of his body against me.

"I missed you... I brought us food. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving," He puts his hands on my hips to pull back from the hug, but I stay put.

He chuckles, giving me one more squeeze.

I pull back just enough to line our faces up and give him a kiss, which he eagerly returns.

"Thank you for being here, it means a lot," I say against his lips and he pulls back slightly to push my hair out of my face.

"I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else." He hums into another kiss, then places three quick pecks before giving my butt a light tap, signaling that it’s time to let him go.

I finally release him and head to the food on the counter.

"I passed a Five Guys on the way here, so I hope that's good for you," He grabs a handful of fries before munching on them.

As I reach the counter, the smell of the burgers makes my mouth water, and I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“Five Guys is perfect, thank you,” I say, grabbing a fry from the bag and tasting its salty warmth.

Matt grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good, because I was too hungry to think of anything else,” he jokes, unwrapping one of the burgers and handing it to me.

I take it, thanking him quietly, my fingers brushing against his. For a moment, I just look at him.

He’s here, and I should be telling him I’m pregnant with his child, but instead, we’re standing in the kitchen eating burgers. As if I’m trying to cling to this last bit of normalcy before everything changes.

I force myself to take a bite of my burger, moaning at the greasy, savory goodness. Matt smirks at me, taking a hearty bite of his own burger.

“S’good?” he asks through his bite, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I nod, moaning again in response, savoring the taste as it temporarily distracts me from everything else.

Matt takes a sip of his drink before bringing a napkin to my face and wiping the corner of my mouth and chin.

"Wipe ya lip, kid," He teases and I roll my eyes, grabbing the napkin from him.

Matt inhales another large bite of his burger, and we slip into our familiar rhythm.

He tells me about his brief trip to Chicago, and I’m relieved to hear he managed to gather a few funny stories and catch at least one day of the festival. He’s notably enthusiastic while he talks, and I can’t help but smile at his excitement.

He also reassured me that Chris wasn't upset at all, which I already knew from the sweet text he sent me this morning.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” I say, trying to match his enthusiasm.

I then give him the rundown for the next few days while we prepare for the funeral and memorial.

We continue eating, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we enjoy the burgers and each other’s company.

It feels so easy, so light. It always is with us. But underneath the surface, the words I need to say weigh heavy on my mind, threatening to break the easy rhythm.

Matt watches me closely, his own burger forgotten for the moment as he sees me disappear inside my head again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, his eyes look between mine. “You seem… I don’t know, you're acting weird.” He tries to find the right words.

"Matt..." I go to dismiss him, getting up slowly but he cuts me off, standing up too.

"No, I'm serious. You've been acting weird for days, and I'm no longer 2000 miles away for you to push me away or avoid me." He steps closer to me, trapping me against the counter with his arms on either side of me.

"Is it about your grandma? Did something else happen while I was gone?" He throws out, looking between my eyes.

"I–" I try to speak up but my voice gets caught in my throat and I get lost in the icy storm of his relentless gaze.

"It's not just my grandma," I manage to say, the admission causing him to soften slightly, a glimmer of relief at the small breakthrough.

"Okay, so talk to me, sweetheart. Please, I've been worried sick about you. You have no idea," he pleads, his breath brushing against my skin.

"I didn't know how to tell you..." I try to put together my words but I feel like I'm making it all worse.

I watch as his eyebrows pinch together and he leans down more so he's eye level with me instead towering over me.

"Tell me what, kid. I'm not a mind reader," His voice strains, frustration evident in his face.

When I try to break eye contact with him he pulls my chin to align our eyes again.

"What, d'you crash my car?" he guesses, clearly joking, his eyebrows raising playfully.

I can't help but smile and snort at his attempt to ease the tension.

"No, it’s not that," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "It's much bigger than that," I trail off and he waits expectantly.

"I uh– I went to the doctor yesterday," I pause and study his face, which drops ever so slightly, seeming to be bracing himself.

He stays silent, whether it was out of patience or fear, nothing could have prepared for my next sentence.

"I went to confirm that I was pregnant," I finally blurt out, my voice shaky, and he freezes.

Not one muscle moves in his face or his body.

"You're..." His voice cracks and he clears his dry throat, hitting his chest, "Are you serious?"

"I'm seven weeks, or a month and a half," I stammer, my voice wavering. "I don't really know how to—"

"Seven..." He whispers in disbelief, the shock settling in and I nod. "Y-you were on birth control– you have that AED–"

"IUD, yes, I did. It still happened, that shit is useless if it moves out of place," I explain and he looks down between us.

"A-and everything's okay, you're okay?" He looks up at me again, holding onto my face.

I take hold of his wrists, rubbing my thumb over his skin.

"I'm fine, the baby's fine..." I say softly and his eyes widen in realization as he pales.

"Oh my fucking god," He pulls back, cupping his hands over his mouth. "I need to sit down."

"Okay, okay. Do you want water?" I panic, hoping he doesn't pass out or puke.

He takes a seat at the dining table, shaking his head before taking off his hat and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Oh my god, I thought I was crazy..." He says, his voice cracking with nerves as he presses his palms into his eye sockets.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I had a feeling all fucking week," he says, his voice still shaky, and my brows knit together.

"I knew something was up. You were acting different. You were moodier than usual, you were napping all the time—and you never nap... and your tits are huge," he adds, and I roll my eyes.

"Sorry, that’s beside the point," he continues quickly, "I just couldn’t shake the feeling that you could be... I think I was trying to convince myself you weren't, but then you were so sick before I left," he rambles, staring blankly at the wall.

"It's a lot to take in, I know." I swallow thickly as I watch him process everything.

"You're pregnant," he says finally, looking at me again, this time with tears brimming his eyes. "And you were dealing with all of this by yourself," His voice is low and I shake my head, moving to stand between his legs, cupping his face gently.

"Hey, no. None of that... How could you have known?" I shush him and pull his head towards my chest.

His hands rest behind my thighs, his thumb lightly stroking my right leg. I run my fingers through his hair, comforting him as much as he's comforting me.

"I've been so scared to tell you..." I confess softly and he pulls back slightly, looking up at me with his brows furrowed.

"I know this wasn't part of our plan...at least not for a while. But before I took a test, the night my grandma passed, I had a dream. I was here, in my grandmother's garden... and she told me I was pregnant. Matt, the feeling I had," I pause, struggling to find the right words.

"It was the most intense, pure form of happiness I've ever felt. I can't even describe it to you..." I trail off.

I shake my head, "I know, I sound crazy. But I think this was meant to happen." I whisper, heat creeping up my neck at the admission.

He’s silent for a moment, absorbing my words. Then, a slow smirk carves a crease into the side of his mouth. "You are fucking crazy…" he murmurs, his playful tone breaking the tension as his smile lines deepen.

I huff a breathy laugh, the sound catching in my throat as my emotions take over again. Tears blur my vision, and I can’t hold them back any longer.

"Are you mad?" I squeak, letting my fear slip through the dam I built up.

He's immediately shaking his head, his eyes widen with sincerity, "Mad? Of course not. I mean, I thought we'd maybe get a cat first but..." He says, quirking his lip and I can't help the laugh that escapes through a sob.

I was the definition of an emotional wreck.

He gently squeezes my hips as I tip my head back to collect myself.

"Look at me," he says firmly, and I sniffle and hiccup before forcing myself to look at him. "Am I surprised? Yes. Terrified? Definitely. But, not even close to mad."

He wipes my tears tenderly, "We're going to be okay. Take it easy, alright? Deep breaths," His tone gentle but assertive, dragging me out of the pit of my dark thoughts.

I sigh as his thumbs draw circles on the exposed skin on my hips.

"I'm sorry," I say and he pulls me to sit sideways on his lap this time.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks softly, intertwining our fingers and bringing my hand to his mouth for a kiss.

"Our lives are going to change and I feel like it's my fault,"

"C'mere," He pulls me in fully, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I love you, and we're going to get through this... We were gonna do it anyway; we're just getting a headstart, yeah? Everything is going to work out," He tells me softly and I can tell he means every word.

Matt never says anything he doesn't mean.

"Also, don't say stupid shit like this is your fault. Last time I checked, it takes two to tango," He says firmly, lightly slapping my hip.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as I lean into him completely, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand rubs gentle circles on my back, and I close my eyes, letting myself soak in the comfort of his presence.

"I missed you so much," I whisper, my voice muffled against his shirt. "I've been so sick, this kid might be trying to kill me," I try to joke, and he breathes a laugh into my shoulder.

A few beats of silence pass, broken only by the distant sound of crickets outside and the occasional creak of the old house settling.

"We're having a kid," He speaks up, realization laced in his voice and I hum against him. "Maybe we're both fucking crazy,"

I stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him, "D'wanna see it?" I ask, getting up from his lap and he looks to my stomach with a raised brow.

"Kid, you're not showing yet," he says, leaning back into the chair with his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face and I roll my eyes.

"No, the ultrasound. Hold on," I say as I head to the counter to grab the pictures from my bag.

I pull out the strip of photos, and when I turn back, I see Matt standing up and stretching. He takes off his sweatshirt and his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach. Heat rises to my face but I can't stare too long though because he's walking towards me to look over my shoulder.

"Okay, what am I lookin' at?" He stands behind me, his hands on his hips as his head tilts in concentration.

"You see this black circle here?" I point to the sonogram, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against my neck as he grabs hold of the paper to steady it.

"Yeah, that's it?" He asks, narrowing his eyes and I giggle.

"No, do you see the tinier white blob inside it? That's the baby." I explain and his face scrunches for a second, looking at the picture again.

"No fucking way," he says in disbelief, a wide smile breaking across his face. "That tiny thing?" His voice raises a pitch as he looks at me, eyes wide with awe, "Can barely fucking see that," He says playfully before rubbing his eyes.

"Mhm," I can't help but giggle as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me in and placing a kiss to my temple. "Just wait til you hear it, the heartbeat was insane. It was so fast," I add and he freezes.

The realization in his face settles in even deeper as I tell him that, his soft smile returning.

"You heard the heartbeat?" He whispers, looking between my eyes and I nod.

"Yeah, yesterday. They emailed me the video of it, I'll show you in a bit if you want," I tell him and he kisses me then like he can't help himself.

"That's fucking nuts... do you feel pregnant?" he asks, his voice curious and his eyes slowly lowering to my stomach peaking out of my tank top.

I shake my head, "Not at all. I just feel like shit... and constantly bloated," I admit, laughing softly.

He lightly chuckles himself, a charmed smile on his face as he reaches to rubs my stomach a couple times.

"We're really gonna have to lock in, kid." He moves around me to pull me into a full hug, pressing our stomachs together.

"Okay, gamer...acting like this is a video game," I scoff teasingly and he bends down, laughing into my neck.

"Well, what else do you want me to say? We're leveling up in life–" he continues the joke and I jab his side with my finger.

"Ow," he fake-cries, clutching his side with exaggerated pain before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"Stop saying corny shit, you goof," I warn, though his laughter makes it impossible not to smile.

I bury my face in his chest, my ear pressed against his heart as we settle into a comfortable silence.

"Now we really gotta get our own place," He says and I can hear his smirk.

"I don't know…" I shrug slightly, considering. "Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stick around for a bit. It might be nice to have the extra help before we go completely on our own."

He pulls back slightly to look at me, tilting his head with an inquisitive expression. "You really think my brothers will be any help? They don’t know anything about babies."

I snort. “Probably not, but neither do we." I reason and his mouth shrugs in defeat.

"Good point... I guess we can wait it out, we're not in a rush. It'll definitely give us more time to research where would want to be somewhat permanently," He points out.

I hum into him and try not stress about that. The reality is we'd be putting ourselves in a tough spot—both our families are here on the East Coast, but our jobs and lives are rooted in LA.

It's easy to go back and forth when it was just us, but now we're gonna have a kid.

"I already hear your mind racing," his voice breaks me out of my thoughts as he rubs my back. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out..." he says softly, and I sigh deeply.

My stomach turns when I get a whiff of the food still laid out on the table.

"Matt," I say, pulling back slowly, holding my stomach.

"Mm?" he hums, looking at me with concern as I put my hand over my mouth.

"The smell of those burgers is making me sick now," I try not to laugh, and he shakes his head, immediately tossing all the trash into the large paper bag it came in.