The waiting room chairs are designed for discomfort. I sink into one anyway, my legs refusing to hold me upright anymore.
Zachary settles into the chair across from me, his composure infuriating in its steadiness. Tommy hovers nearby, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he's ready to bolt at the first opportunity.
"You knew." I level the accusation at Zachary without looking at him. "This whole time, you knew."
"I found out recently." His voice carries no apology. "Maria discovered the test in her bathroom. She came to me with concerns about Adison's health."
"And you didn't think I deserved to know?"
"It wasn't my secret to tell." Zachary's eyes meet mine, and something almost like understanding moves behind them. "She discovered the pregnancy in New York. Before she came here. She's been battling severe morning sickness for weeks—that's why she barely eats. That's why she looks exhausted all the time."
The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. The nausea I kept noticing. The way she pushed food around her plate. The pallor that makeup couldn't quite hide.
"She chose the ranch hoping fresh air might help." Zachary continues, his tone measured. "A change of environment. Distance from the stress of Manhattan."
"And you let her ride today." The anger rises before I can stop it. "You knew she was pregnant, and you let her get on a horse."
"I warned her." His jaw tightens. "Told her horseback riding was dangerous in her condition. She wouldn't listen. She said acting normal was her only protection—that people would notice if she suddenly stopped doing everything she'd always done."
The logic sounds exactly like Adison. Stubborn. Calculated. Willing to risk everything rather than show vulnerability.
"How far along is she?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
"I don't know." Zachary shakes his head slowly. "She refuses to discuss it. I've been waiting for her to open up, but she guards that information like a state secret."
The admission hits harder than it should. Even the man who knew her secret doesn't know the details. She's been carrying this alone, building walls against everyone—including me.
Tommy shifts beside me, clearly uncomfortable in this conversation. His mouth opens and closes twice before the words finally escape.
"So... who's the father?"
Zachary and I both turn to stare at him. The withering disbelief must show clearly on our faces because Tommy's expression crumbles instantly.
"Right. Stupid question." He holds up his hands, stammering. "I just—I wasn't thinking. Obviously I wasn't thinking. Forget I asked."
"Of course it's Jake." Zachary states the obvious with a patience that borders on condescension. "Who else would it be?"
Tommy's cheeks flush crimson. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and stares at the floor like he's hoping it might swallow him whole.
The silence stretches between us, thick with tension and unanswered questions. Zachary rises from his chair, smoothing his t-shirt with practiced efficiency.
"I'll get coffee." He gestures vaguely toward the hospital corridor. "Give you both some time."
He disappears around the corner, and the air in the waiting room feels slightly easier to breathe.
Tommy collapses into the chair Zachary vacated, exhaling slowly. His eyes find mine, and something shifts in his expression—the awkwardness giving way to genuine warmth.
"Congratulations, man." He says it quietly, carefully. "You're gonna be a dad."
The words land in my chest and stay there. Dad. Father. Someone responsible for a tiny life that didn't exist a few months ago.
"I had no idea." The confession scrapes out of me like broken glass. "She's been carrying this alone, and I didn't see it. I should have seen it."
"How could you?" Tommy leans forward, elbows on his knees. "She didn't want you to know. She hid it from everyone."
"That doesn't make it better." I press my palms against my eyes, trying to organize thoughts that refuse to cooperate. "I'm supposed to know her better than anyone. I'm supposed to see past her walls."
"You're not a mind reader, Jake." Tommy's voice carries the same truth Adison threw at me during our phone call. "She made choices. Protected herself the only way she knew how."
"The ignorance feels like failure." I drop my hands, staring at the sterile walls that offer no comfort. "Like I let her down when she needed me most."
"But you know now." Tommy reaches over and grips my shoulder, squeezing once. "That changes everything. You're here. She's here. The rest is just details you two figure out together."
I want to believe him. Want to trust that knowing changes the outcome.
But right now, all I can do is wait.
The minutes crawl past like hours. Thirty of them, maybe more. I lose count somewhere between the fluorescent lights and the antiseptic smell that coats every surface.
Footsteps approach—deliberate, purposeful. I'm on my feet before the doctor fully rounds the corner.
"Family of Adison Ward?" She consults her clipboard, then looks up with an expression that carries professionalism and exhaustion in equal measure.
"Right here." I step forward, heart pounding against my ribs.
"She has a concussion and some bruising." The doctor's voice is calm. Clinical. "No fractures. We'll need to monitor her overnight, but the prognosis is good."
"And the baby?" The question tears out of me before I can think.
The doctor's expression softens slightly. "Unharmed. The pregnancy appears stable. She was lucky—the angle of impact could have been much worse."
Relief floods through me so fast I nearly lose my footing. Tommy grabs my arm, steadying me.
"Can I see her?" The words come out desperate. Urgent.
The doctor studies me for a moment. "And who are you in relation to the patient?"
I answer without hesitation. "Her fiancé. And the father of her child."
Something flickers behind the doctor's professional mask—approval, maybe, or understanding. She nods once.
"Follow me. She's asking for you."
Zachary appears beside us, coffee cups forgotten somewhere behind him. His expression carries something complicated—relief tangled with acceptance.
"Pass along our regards." He says it simply, without expectation. "Tell her we are glad she's alright."
I nod once, acknowledging his request.
Then I follow the doctor down the corridor, toward the room where Adison waits. Toward the conversation we should have had weeks ago. Toward a future I didn't know I wanted so much until right now.