Chapter 20 The rain was cold. At least, colder than I expected. It had been hot earlier, muggy in that way that's suffocating until the storm breaks, but now the wind sliced through my hoodie without a hint of warmth to it and the soaked fabric clung to my skin uncomfortably. I couldn't feel the tips of my fingers, could barely feel the way my heart was hammering against my ribs. Matt just stared at me. He didn't blink, didn't move, didn't breathe. I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, my voice cracking as I tried to fill the chasm forming between us with something, anything, before the silence could swallow me whole. "T-this isn't some kind of trap," I said, the words coming out so quickly I had to focus not to stumble over them. "I'm not asking you-Christ, I know what you said. I remember. You didn't want anything. I'm not trying to-fuck." I took a shuddering breath, my jaw simultaneously too loose and too tight. But still, he said nothing. "I'm not expecting anything from you," I croaked, my mouth going dry. I couldn't figure out what that fucking stare meant - whether he was shocked or horrified or seconds from getting back into his car or throwing himself off the Bank of America Plaza. All I could do was spiral. All I could do was beg that he didn't think I was trying to trick him or cage him into ridiculously high child support for the next eighteen years. "You don't have to do anything. I...I just-I had to tell you. It wouldn't have been fair if I didn't, and I didn't know how, and then you called⁠-" A choked sob worked its way out of my throat, cutting me off, and I tried to catch my breath. "I don't know how this happened. I took every fucking pill." My voice cracked. "But I'm keeping it. The baby. And I'm not asking for anything, Matt, I swear to God, I just needed you to know⁠-" "Come here." His voice cut through the rain, cut through the thunder, cut through everything, soft but sharp, commanding. I froze, my breathing too heavy, my eyes burning. Matt took a step forward and wrapped his hand around my elbow, warm and firm, and guided me backward as another flash of lightning cut through the sky. Back, back, back, his eyes locked on me, until the wind chill ceased and the constant thumping of thick raindrops on my head disappeared, both of us under the small amount of cover the recessed, closed garage door gave us. The cold still bit through everything. I leaned back against the metal door, my arms crossed tight across my chest, soaked to the bone, willing him to say something more, something human, something that gave me any hint of what he was feeling. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing back the soaked strands to unstick them from his face. His gaze broke from me, and then he was moving, stepping in and out of the rain, his soaked shirt clinging to his chest, pacing a slow and tight line in front of me like he had to move, or he'd implode. He nodded to himself. Or me. I wasn't sure. Like he'd finally caught up. "I'll take care of it," he said, voice sturdy, unwavering. My stomach dropped. "What-? What does that mean?" "I'll cover everything." His gaze met mine as he moved, back and forth, back, and forth. "Medical costs. Furniture. Supplies. If you want a better apartment, I'll pay the rent. Hell, I'll buy it outright. Whatever you need. Just tell me." I went still. He kept going. It only got worse. "You should consider taking the year off if you can, or you'll be going on maternity leave right before the next school year ends. And I'll get you a proper OB, best one in Atlanta, or fuck it, I'll find the best one in the country. I'll make sure you've got whatever support you need. Prenatal care, a driver, anything." I stared at him, my eyes widening. "Jesus fucking Christ," I breathed. "I'm not going to let you do this alone," he said, as if it were the most generous thing anyone had ever offered me. "I'll make sure you're safe. Both-both of you." I stared at him, blinking hard to try to negate the pain behind my eyes, trying to process the tangle of emotions piling in my throat. He'd called me tonight. He'd said he needed to talk, that he'd made a mistake. But none of this sounded like a man who realized he missed me, if that's what it was - it sounded like a man signing a check to placate a problem. "Was that what you were going to tell me when you called me?" I asked, my lower lip quivering despite my desperate grasp on myself. "That you'd changed your mind and wanted to co-sign a lease with me for a life you don't want?" He winced. "That's not⁠-" "That's what you're doing, Matt." "I'm trying to help. I'm trying-God dammit, Sienna." He tipped his head back, his Adam's apple working as he looked skyward for a moment, then dropped his gaze to mine. "I'm processing this. I'm trying to work out the best solution here." "No. You're trying to fix a problem." I swallowed. "Except I'm not a problem. We're not a problem." Measured breaths slowly raised and lowered his chest. His jaw steeled, his hands turned to fists at his sides, silence creeping between us again in the hazy aftermath. "I don't want anything from you, Matt," I said again, low, and even and honest. "Not your money. Not a new apartment. Not a driver." His eyes locked with mine in a flash. "Don't be proud." "I'm not," I bit back. "I'm protecting myself. I don't trust you. Not after Tulum, not after that night at your place, not after the way you shut me down-fuck, not after everything." Something flickered in his expression, something I couldn't quite place. My throat ached from how hard it clamped shut, my words coming out breathy and broken. "You made me feel like it was real," I choked. "Then you took it all back before I could even catch my breath." "I didn't take it back, Sienna, I⁠-" "You did." My chest cracked on the words. "You did, and you're trying to do it now, but you're dressing it up with dollar signs and pragmatic problem-solving." The tremor in my hands came back, but it wasn't from the cold now. It was the adrenaline coursing through me, tearing me to shreds, standing here in front of this man who had somehow thoroughly wrecked me far more than his brother ever had with far less. And Matt, for all his power, arrogance, certainty, and control, stood there like a man who didn't know how to build something that wasn't transactional. I didn't want to be a fucking transaction. Not again. Not for him. "I want to be there for this," he said quietly. "All of it. If you'll let me. I didn't get to with Zach." I blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean? Zach⁠-" He cut me off with a shake of his head, his feet finally slowing to a stop in front of me. "It's complicated." I didn't push. But I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be moved by that or furious that he thought this was the moment to bring it up. "I'm sorry," he said carefully. "I'm not trying to fuck this up. I'm just..." He shook his head, droplets flinging. "Can I come in?" "No." The words were fast, decisive. He exhaled like he'd expected it. But he didn't back away. Another flash of lightning came through, and I forced myself to focus on it, to count in Mississippi's until the roll of thunder boomed out. Fifteen. Three miles out. Further, I was sure, than the last time. But the storm in my head raged on. I shifted under the porch light, trying to take a steadying breath. "I don't know what I'm doing," I said, but the words were barely more than a whisper. His face softened, the hard lines and fine, minuscule wrinkles smoothing. "You're scared." I pressed the butt of my palms against my eyes, willing them to stop leaking, willing my body to calm down. "Fucking terrified," I choked. He didn't try to touch me, didn't reach out, but he took a step toward me, his voice dropping. "Then let me prove I'm not walking away, sweetheart," he said softly. "What does that even look like to you?" I asked, rubbing my eyes once before pulling my hands away, looking up at him with nothing but the raw emotion coursing through me. I didn't have the energy to try to hide it anymore. "Don't tell me you're going to drop to one knee like the olden days so we can do it right⁠-" "No," he said, blinking a little quickly like he was caught off guard by it. "I'm not ready for that." At least he was honest. "I'm not going to pretend like I've figured this out, either. Yes, I have Zach, but that doesn't mean I'm an expert at this. I've stumbled through it like everyone else. But I don't want to miss this part. Not this time." A choked laugh punched out of me, but there wasn't a hint of humor in it. "You say that like you have any idea how to stay." His jaw twitched. "I stayed for Zach." "Zach is a part of you⁠-" "So are you, now," he said, his voice calm but the words charged. "Both of you." I didn't trust him. That was the overarching problem here, maybe the only one that mattered, but the horrifying part of all of this was that I wanted to trust him still, wanted to believe him, even just a little. So, I gave him something small. Not a promise, not a chance to step in and solidify a place in this, but something. "I have an ultrasound next week," I breathed, barely louder than the rain. "Thursday. Two-thirty. Central Women's." It wasn't exactly an offer. I wasn't directly asking. His gaze widened a little. "I'll be there." The words were strong, confident, like he meant every single one. But I just couldn't bring myself to believe him fully.