I’d already packed my bags, and I had a flight in a couple hours with a layover attached. God help me, but I hated flying. It wasn’t so much the flying as it was the waiting forever for the flights themselves.

The packing had been fast. I couldn’t wait to get back to Stoneport. Couldn’t wait, but still hadn’t made my fucking decision. I wanted Becca as much as I wanted to fucking eat, yet the thought of admitting the feelings to her, of telling her the truth about it, scared the shit out of me.

It was one of the only times I’d been legitimately afraid of something. I didn’t fucking do fear.

Except now, apparently, I did.

My phone buzzed on the bedside table, and I picked it up and answered. “Doctor Dunn,” I said.

“So, this is it, huh?” Reggie’s voice was hoarse, as if he’d just woken up. Figured, since it was only six a.m.

“Is this a reverse wake-up call? You’re calling me and I’m waking you up?”

“It’s too early to laugh at your bad jokes, man,” Reggie said and yawned into the phone.

“Aight, so why are you calling?” I asked and zipped up my overnight bag with one hand.

“Because I want to know your fucking decision, man. Why else would I get up at this godawful hour to make a call to your dead ass?”

“Somebody’s a morning person,” I laughed and looped the bag over my shoulder. “Reggie, man, I don’t have an answer for you.” But I did. In my gut, I did. I couldn’t fucking move away from Stoneport. I couldn’t see myself packing up all those fucking boxes and leaving Becca alone there.

It wasn’t pity. It was something else. Something deeper.

Fuck, what the hell did that even mean? I still wasn’t ready to make some huge commitment. Not to Becca and not to Reggie’s practice in Vermont.

“You gotta, man. I’ve got another interview this week. This was your second chance, buddy. You’re not going to get a third, so I hate to push, but I gotta know. Now, preferably.”

“I can’t answer you now. Can you give me until tonight? There’s something I have to do first before I can make that decision.” Or rather, someone I had to see.

“Yeah, sure. Listen—fly safe, man. Call me when you land. Or when you have your decision. Whichever comes first,” Reggie said.

“Will do.” We hung up, and I stared at the phone for a couple minutes, contemplating calling him back. But what would I fucking say? That I couldn’t work with him because I maybe had a girlfriend now? One who I was both infatuated with and intimidated by? I’d never been intimidated by anyone, apart from my grandfather, so this was a first for me.

“Forget about it for now. Go see her.” I readjusted my bag again, then picked up my ticket off the end table and made for the exit. I needed a coffee and a cream cheese bagel before I set out, or I’d pass the hell out. I usually ate like a damn horse, and the sushi from last night had done little to satisfy me.

My phone rang again, and I lifted it, this time frowning at the unknown caller.

Christ, what now?

“This is Doctor Dunn,” I answered.

“So it is.” The woman on the other end of the line was cold as fucking ice. It stalled me mid-step.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“I want to say I’m your worst nightmare, because right now I feel like I am,” the woman replied. “I am so fucking angry with you, I could scream.”

Great, just what I needed—another woman who wanted to slap me for some slight or another. Christ, I was on a role. Now, women I didn’t even know sought me out to shit on my day. “Who is this?” I repeated firmly.

“I’m Peggy,” she replied.

I’d never spoken to a woman named Peggy in my entire life. I wracked my brain, searching the long list of patients I’d had back in Stoneport, and any other contacts from my med school days. Nope, no Peggys. There had been a Pamela—a sniffy receptionist at the hospital I’d interned at.

“OK” I said. “And who are you really, Peggy? I’ve never met you before, have I?”

“No you haven’t, and you’d better hope you never meet me. At least not in person.”

I’d already grown tired of this bullshit. I had a flight and a coffee-bagel combo calling my name. “All right, I’m done with this call.”

“I’m Rebecca’s sister,” Peggy said.

I stalled immediately, lifting the phone back up to my ear. “I’m listening.”

“I’m calling you because you’re a jackass and you deserve to know just how much of a jackass you really are.”

“Always a good way to start a conversation,” I replied. “What’s going on? Is Rebecca safe? Is she all right?”

“No, she’s not fine. Thanks to you.” Peggy took a breath, and I held my own, waiting for whatever hammer was about to drop. Christ, had I left and Becca had gotten into an accident? My stomach clenched into an iron ball at the thought.

“What happened?”

“She’s pregnant, and you’re the father.”

I stumbled back a full step and dropped my bag on the floor beside me. The room zoomed in and out of view. What the actual fuck. I pressed my palm to the desk nearby and held it there, staring at my fingers. “Repeat that, please.”

“My sister is pregnant, and you are the father, you asshole,” Peggy said. “What don’t you get? Do you need me to write you a letter and mail it over there? Or maybe I should deliver the message in person, along with a swift kick in the ass!”

Why was she so damn angry? How the hell was I supposed to—my stomach sank. One of the last things I’d said to her had been, “Let me guess, you’re going to tell me you’re pregnant too.” And then she’d paled.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She’d been pregnant then, hadn’t she? And I’d embarrassed her. Rejected her. Disappeared for a weekend without notice.

“You left her in the fucking dark so you can jet off to god knows where, while my little sister sits alone, worrying about telling you. As if you deserve to be told gently. She’s been alone the entire weekend, and I know she’s been crying. She had to go to her first doctor’s appointment today, and you weren’t there.”

I blinked, trying to focus both on this insane woman’s words and the thought that Rebecca was pregnant and now alone. Because of me. Her first doctor’s appointment. Jesus.

“Christ,” I muttered. “I’m on my way back to Stoneport now. I’ll be there by tonight. I’ll fucking—I’ll find her.”

“Don’t bother,” Peggy snapped. “My sister isn’t going to hang around that town anymore, waiting for you. She’s going to live with me in New Orleans until after the baby is born. You’d better hope she chooses to involve you in that child’s life, Mason Dunn, because I don’t think you deserve it. What kind of person runs away from—”

I hung up on her before she could piss me off even more. I got that she was doing the whole overprotective sister bit, but it still pissed me off beyond belief. But I was more pissed at myself.

Not the pregnancy, but the fact that I’d left my woman high and dry.

My woman.

Nothing had changed, yet everything had.

Becca was mine and always had been, and now, she was pregnant with my baby.

My phone rang again, and I answered out of habit, still distracted by the thoughts, the mental arithmetic.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me again,” Peggy lectured down the line. “I am not the type of person you hang up on. I shouldn’t have even called you, asshole, but I couldn’t stand by and watch my sister worry over you for another second. So, now you know. What are you going to do about it?”

I hung up again, taking quite a bit of pleasure in pressing the red phone icon on my screen. Peggy wasn’t my problem. Getting back to Stoneport and finding Becca before she left for New Orleans was.

My phone rang again, but I swiped the button to reject the call, then forged into my contact list and dialed Reggie.

“Seriously?” Reggie answered, sleep practically pouring down the line. “I thought you didn’t want to make your decision this morning.”

“Well, I don’t know how this will affect your crankiness levels, buddy, but I’m not interested in the opportunity. Sorry.”

“Shit, for real? What happened?”

“I’m in love,” I replied, and it came out so naturally it should’ve scared me. But it didn’t. Not even a little. “And I’m going to have a baby.”

“Jesus Christ, have you grown an extra head in the last twenty minutes?”

“No,” I said, “but I’ve got to go.”

“OK, don’t call me back and tell me you’re moving to Bolivia or something.”

“I gotta go.” I hung up, then tried calling Becca right away. The phone rang once, twice, then went to voicemail. “Fuck!” I hung up and tried again and again. Nothing—no answer. Either she’d decided I wasn’t worth the time, or she was busy at work.

Regardless, I didn’t have time to waste. I had to get back to Stoneport and find her before it was too late.

“I’m coming, angelface,” I muttered and sprinted for the door.

She had to be here, somewhere.

Fuck it, I’d hunt to the ends of the goddamn earth to find her.

I drove the Dodge like a madman, taking corners like I was mad at them, tires squealing through the rain. The streets were empty, it was already late, and she hadn’t been at Betsy’s. She could only be at home.

“Fuck,” I growled.

I was an idiot, and I might’ve fucking lost the woman I adored because of my indecisive, bullshit attitude. I had to make this right. My hands clenched on the steering wheel, knuckles white against it.

The only place she could be was home. I’d checked her place the minute I got back, but it was empty. Either we’d crossed paths on the way somehow, or she’d made good on what her sister had promised—she was done with Stoneport and already heading for New Orleans.

That was the worst-case scenario. I had no idea where her sister lived or how to find her.

Rain pounded against the front window as I took the corner that led up the road and toward her house. A figure materialized up ahead, head bowed against the rain.

My heart leaped.

It was her. It was Becca.

I screeched to a halt, my headlights slicing across her path, and practically kicked my fucking car door open in a bid to get out. “Becca!” I yelled.

She’d already stopped at the sound of the car, but now she turned, presenting that beautiful face to me. She was soaked through from the rain, her blouse pressed flat to her breasts and stomach. Her mascara was running down her cheeks—not from crying, at least. I hoped.

Becca smeared water from her face with both hands and stared at me. “Mason?”

“Becca,” I repeated, because apparently my brain had gone on a fucking holiday at the mere sight of her.

She was mine. I just had to show her that I was serious. I had to prove that the boxes, the weekend away, all that shit with Tabitha, it was nothing. It never had been.

Not in comparison to her.