I hadn’t seen Jake for the past few days, which, truth be told, was a good thing.
No sharp gazes that seemed to read me like an open book. No dangerous smirks that made my chest tighten. No pull in my soul I couldn’t ignore. For once, I could breathe, think, and—most importantly—focus on the little life growing inside me.
The diner smelled like grease and burnt coffee, the same as always, and today it didn’t make me gag. I moved through the morning rush on autopilot, wiping tables, refilling cups, sliding plates across counters.
Every careful motion reminded me that I had responsibilities now. That I wasn’t just Ella anymore—I was a protector, a guardian of something fragile, something entirely my own.
I pressed a hand to my stomach as I carried a tray across the room. The flutter ins
