“We never fought that much before.”
“We never lived together before.” I look out at the wooded front yard. “We tried, Stacey, and it didn’t work. We’ll figure something out, though, I promise.”
“I’m scared to do this alone,” she confesses.
“You won’t be alone,” I assure her. “When I’m back in Chicago, we can get dinner or something. I’ll give you the information for the paternity test—and I’m paying for it, of course.”
“Sure. I really think you should consider what I said, though, even if it’s just for the first few months. They’re the hardest, you know. It’s only fair we’re both there.”
She’s right, and fuck, I hate this. “I know. I’ll, uh, text you sometime this week.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sam. I always feel better after talking to you.”
“Take care,” I say and end the call. I stay on the porch for a few moments, collecting myself before going back inside. I get myself coffee and stand by the back doors as I drink it, staring out at the lake and trying not to think of anything at all, giving myself a small mental reprieve before going upstairs.
Chloe opens her eyes when I step into the room, hardwood floor creaking beneath my feet.
“How are you feeling?” I ask and pick up the thermometer.
“Tired,” she says.
“Go to sleep,” I urge again. “It’s the best thing for you.”
She nods and takes a drink of water. “I know.”
I hold the thermometer to her forehead to check her temperature before leaving.
“One-hundred and two point seven. Still high but it’s going down. Do you feel up to eating anything? I can make you soup.”
“Not now. I just want to sleep, but thanks.”
“I’ll bring something back with me. I love you, Chloe.”
“Love you too,” she grumbles. “Tell everyone hi for me.”
“I will.” I kiss her once more and go back downstairs. I grab my keys, wallet, and jacket and go outside. I need to call Mom back and tell her I’m on my way over for breakfast, but I don’t want to lie to anyone else. I get in my car and call Jacob instead.
“Hey,” he answers.
“Are you working?” I ask.
“I just left a farm call. Why?”
“Want to get something to drink?”
“Drink?” Jacob echoes. “It’s not even ten AM. The only place that’s open this early is The Oasis and the regulars there have been there all night. But more importantly, what the hell is going on?”
My eyes fall shut and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Stacey,” I start, not wanting to say the words. “She’s pregnant.”
“Fuck,” Jacob exclaims. “And it’s yours?”
“She says it is.”
“You lied about breaking up with her then, didn’t you?”
“We did break up but hooked up once in June, which makes her four months along. She said she recently found out and told me only a week or so ago.”
“Meet me at my house. I’m headed that way now and we’ll be away from anyone eavesdropping.”
“Okay. I’m coming from Chloe’s dad’s place.”
“Does Chloe know?”
“No. I haven’t told her yet.”
“Shit,” he repeats. “I have booze. I think you need some.”
“I do,” I sigh. “Thanks, man.”
“Of course. You’re my brother. See ya soon,” he says and ends the call. I pull my seatbelt on and back out of the driveway, so tense I make it halfway to Jacob’s house before realizing I didn’t turn on any music.
Jacob’s century-old brick house sits right behind the veterinary clinic, which he owns. There are a few cars in the clinic’s parking lot, and Jacob’s truck is in front of his house. Horses in the paddock in between the house and the clinic nicker to me, coming over to the fence and hoping for attention or treats.
“Hey, guys,” I say. They’re not Jacob’s horses, but belong to clients. “Sorry, I don’t have anything for you.” The two horses look at me hopefully, and then go back to grazing when they realize I’m not coming over with carrots.
Jacob’s rescue dogs surround me as soon as I step into the house. There are two more dogs in here than the last time I was over, which wasn’t that long ago. He was always bringing home stray animals to “foster” and we ended up keeping most of them. The same thing happens now, but there’s no one to tell him five dogs is too many, like our mother did.
“Hey,” Jacob says, coming out of the kitchen with two beers in his hand. “I figured you’d need this.”
“Thanks.” We sit in the living room, and two dogs bombard me, jumping up on the couch. I take a drink and set my beer on the center of the coffee table, away from the dogs’ wagging tails.
“The last time I drank this early, I was in college,” Jacob says, patting a large white dog who only has one eye.
“Same for me. Pre-med, though, not med school.”