“Harper!”

She didn’t slow. Couldn’t slow down. His face, full of love, and wonder and that pure heart-on-his-sleeve passion he had for his music tore at her.

All of the things that were true and honest and important to him, and she was going to blast every single one out of orbit. They were still so new. Still finding their footing as a married couple, for God’s sake.

She lifted her dress to step over the short cement divider that sectioned off the road to the access path to the beach. Cool sand sifted under her strappy sandals, spilling over her toes. She reached down and flipped off her shoes, grabbing them as she headed further down the packed sand to the water.

She needed to be away from people, from the noise and chatter of happy voices. How could everyone be so happy around her when she was so very confused?

Moonlight spilled over the sand, highlighting the tracks of seaweed and shells, stones, and the ever relentless pull of the tide as it eroded everything. Foam crisscrossed the larger rippling fingers of lapping water thanks to the stone pier and the battering ram of high tide.

She followed the moonlit path to that pier. Lonely and solitary, it made a focal point to attain.

He called her name again, gaining on her. Those damn long legs.

She couldn’t ask for him to leave her alone again. She had to tell him. It wasn’t right to keep the information inside her.

You don’t have to tell Deacon if you don’t want to.

Tears blurred her vision as she climbed the rocky pier. Sharp stones cut at her feet, her palms, her knee as she stumbled. Then his hands were there. His arms hauling her up onto the flat part of the pier where pedestrians walked.

He dragged her into his arms and the tears she’d been choking down rolled out in a torrent. She hooked her arms under his and held onto his shoulders as her nose found his chest. He smelled of ocean tinged cedar. The ever present heat of his core body temperature combating the sea spray kicking up around them, soaking her maxi dress.

He crouched down to her, pressing his nose into her shoulder, and just held her. As usual Deacon knew what she needed. Always seemed to know just what to do.

She never knew how to handle stuff. He was the problem solver. Even when he didn’t know all the answers, he knew what to do.

He crushed her harder to his chest the more she sobbed.

Hormones? This wasn’t the end of the world. This could be a wonderful thing, couldn’t it?

Then why did it feel like such a big thing?

Why did it feel like the end of…something. Something she couldn’t quite define.

She moved her arms to wrap around his neck, to press her face into the warmth that was Deacon, to find his mouth with hers. Their lips tasted of salt spray and desperation. She tasted baffled man and uncertain passion.

She tore her mouth away and rested her forehead against his. He was practically bent in half to reach down to her and the darkness put him in silhouette.

But she didn’t need visuals. Earnest and bewildered Deacon would be staring down at her. But maybe it was better that the darkness cloaked them.

She wasn’t sure she could take the look on his face.

Would it be wonder and excitement or would it be confused chaos?

She understood the chaos. It had been churning inside of her since that afternoon.

He cupped her face, breaking the stranglehold she had on his shoulders and arms. “Harper, you are scaring the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I know I’m not doing this right.”

“Can we go back to the cottage and talk? You’re shivering.”

“I’m okay. I need to tell you something.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

He swiped his thumbs over her cheeks, and more tears tumbled with each pass. She took a deep breath.

Say it, Harper Lee.

Stop being such a fucking drama queen.

Say it.

Say it.

“Harper, please.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?” His hands fell away from her face and cupped her shoulders. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry, Deacon. I swear, I don’t even know how it happened.”

The silhouette of his shoulders heaved once and his grip tightened on her shoulders. “A baby?” His hand dropped to the curve of her waist and across the front of her belly.

She covered his hand with hers. “I don’t know what to do,” she said on a whisper that barely rose above the crash of the waves behind him. “We’re so not ready for this.”

“This is what has you so…today. What made you so distant?”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand flat to her middle. “I was lying there with you this morning and all I could think about was how crazy the last few days had been.”

His fingertips widened as he splayed his entire hand along the slight indent of her belly.

“Food has tasted off for days. I just thought it was me. Strawberries were out of season. That’s why they tasted like…nothing. No taste at all. Then we went and had all that greasy food. You know I love smothered fries. How many times have we gone to the diner near the new house?”

He didn’t answer, and she couldn’t stop her mouth from motoring on.

“The sex. I mean, God, we love sex. Obviously, we love the love part of all of this. But I’ve been a complete maniac. We’re on our honeymoon. It’s supposed to be hot sex all the time. That’s not supposed to be anything different, right?”

“Except that you were so…mindless. We’re usually different. Connected.”

She stepped closer to him, until their joined hands were pressed between his belt and her belly. “Not the whole time. I love making love to you. Every moment of our honeymoon has been amazing.”

His voice was raspy. “And you just assumed pregnant?”

“No. I had a strong feeling. I looked at my…at the app I have to keep track of my period. We’re so busy, so many different things going on between the band, the house, and my job.”

“So this app just says—boom, pregnant?”

“No.” She stood on her tiptoes, but he didn’t lean down to her.

He was stiff and unyielding in her arms.

“I went to find DJ. I needed to know. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You went to DJ.” His voice was flat.

She rushed on. She had to make him understand. “Yes. I went straight to the bar. I didn’t know what else to do. She knows this area. I hoped I could get a test. That I could confirm it.”

“With DJ.”

“Yes. I have them. The tests, I mean. I swear it’s true.” Panic overrode her need to soothe him. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him.

Maybe she should have just gone to the clinic and taken care of it. Deacon didn’t ever have to know. DJ was right. She should have just kept it to herself.

She didn’t have to burden him with it. She could have taken care of it.

“Harper, you woke up next to me. Frightened, right?”

Dread coated her throat and mouth. She swallowed, shaking her head. Realizing it was pitch dark, she whispered, “Yes.”

“I was right there. And you went to DJ.”

“Deacon, I didn’t want to worry you if it was false.”

He stalked away from her, and the moonlight was as stark as the sun. He covered his face with his hand, dragging his fingers up and into his long hair before returning to her. Again, all in shadow. But it was too late. She’d seen the pain and shock on his face. “You thought it was something to shield me from?”

“I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Why would you cut me out of this?”

His voice broke, and right then she wished for more than that flash of moonlight. Sunlight, pure and clear, would be perfect right about now. Deacon didn’t break.

Until this.

She stepped forward, placing her hands on his chest. God, his heartbeat was so fast. Or was that her own pounding in her ears? “Deacon, we’re not ready for this. We barely have enough strength to take care of our own issues. We’re both buried.”

“This isn’t an issue. This is a baby.”

“I know,” she said.

“Our baby. You and me.”

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t tell if it was the baby he was upset about or her not telling him. It had only been a few hours. The news wasn’t the pretty kind where you put a baby rattle on a plate, for fuck’s sake.

They hadn’t even discussed kids.

Kind of an important question to ask before marriage, Harper Lee.

“Deacon. Talk to me.”

He curled his fingers around hers against his chest. “Pregnant?”

“I know. I don’t know how. I’m always so careful about my pill.”

“Wow.” His voice was gentle now. Shellshocked.

Harper took a shaky breath. “I never even asked you if you wanted kids.”

“Do you want kids?”

“I-I…” She lost the ability to breathe. She still didn’t know. “I don’t know. It was never something I thought of. I’m twenty-three.”

He hauled her against him, his cheek resting on top of her head. His heartbeat was the same as when he’d just come back from a run. Fast and steady.

Always steady. That was Deacon at his most basic.

But why did everything have to be so fast?

This was so fast.

She gripped the back of his shirt. “Deacon, you didn’t answer me.”

“I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t have an answer yet. You’ve got a couple of hours on me to digest this.”

She gripped him tighter. “I understand.” The tears tracked down her cheeks. She didn’t know what she’d expected.

“I just wish you’d come to me first.” His voice was quiet and even again yet she could still scent the pain on the air.

“I wanted to be sure.”

“That’s the problem, Harper. You don’t have to do things alone anymore.”

She drew back from him. “You knew who you were marrying. I’ve done everything on my own.” He stroked down her hair. The familiarity of the act tightened her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” His voice was tired and deeper than usual. “C’mon, let’s get you out of the cold.”

Not willing to argue now, she let him lead her down the pier to the street. She’d lost her shoes sometime between the climbing of the pier and the beach. Once they got under the street lamp, he looked down at her and lifted her up.

“Deacon.”

“C’mon, Lawless. Let me do this, all right?”

She wrapped her arm around his neck and ignored the people on the street that stared at them. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. Right now, it was about Deacon and letting him get a handle on things.

When he got to the car, he tucked her in and slid the seatbelt across her chest. For a moment, he hovered over her middle. His wide palm gently lowered to her belly before he curled his fingers in and withdrew.

She slumped back against the headrest, turning her face toward the window.