Jo's Bad News
Rowan didn’t waste a second. The moment I repeated what Jo said, he was already moving.
“Callum,” he barked into his phone, stepping into the hallway. “Get eyes on the car Jo tracked. Find out where it came from, who was in it, what plates it’s stolen from—I want a name by morning. And put three men at Remi’s research lab. No one, no one, gets within fifty feet without ID clearance.”
He turned back to me, voice quieter, but no less firm. “They won’t get close. I swear it.”
I nodded, the lump in my throat too thick to speak around.
“Do you believe me?” he asked, taking a step forward.
“I do,” I whispered, and I meant it. Because Rowan didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep anymore.
Lucious is a bastard. He had me off the research yet he wanted my progress? I get why he would though. If it ever blows up, it's going to bring in money like crazy.
I raised the phone back to my ear. “Jo… What were you even doing here?”
There was a pause on the line. Then Jo sighed. “I didn’t know the house was attacked. I didn’t. I came to talk to you about something—something I’ve been holding in.”
I frowned. “And you just happened to show up in time to see masked gunmen running from the porch?”
“I parked two houses down and saw them coming out, sprinting toward the trees. Something about it didn’t sit right. So I followed. Sherlock Holmes instinct.”
Despite everything, I laughed quietly, rubbing at my temple. “Of course you did.”
“I’m coming in,” she said.
“Okay. Door’s unlocked. Just come through the side.”
Two minutes later, Jo entered the living room, her steps light but eyes shadowed with something I couldn’t quite place. She was still in sneakers, a hoodie zipped up to her chin, and her expression… wasn’t her usual brand of dramatic chaos.
Rowan ordered the men who were still cleaning around and the body. And another injured person.
“Hey…Jo…what's wrong?”
“I wanted us to talk,” she said, her voice low. “Alone.”
Rowan looked up from where he sat with the twins—Laura now perched on his lap, Larry pressed against his side. He raised a brow at me, and I gave a small nod. Whatever this was, it was clearly serious.
Rowan stood, scooping up Laura with one arm while Larry groaned, “Are we going to bed now?”
“We’re going to find cake in the kitchen,” Rowan said smoothly. “If your mum lets you.”
I waved a hand. “If it keeps them out of earshot, eat the whole damn thing.”
“Cool!” Larry grinned as Rowan guided them toward the kitchen.
As soon as they were out of sight, I took Jo's hand into a private lounge.
Jo sat beside me, but not too close. She was quiet for a moment, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her usual sparkle dimmed.
“I’ve gone back and forth on this,” she said. “A hundred times. But tonight… watching all of that? Knowing how close we all were to losing you? I realized if I didn’t say it now, I never would.”
I swallowed. “Jo… what’s going on?”
She looked me in the eyes.
“I’m going to say it out,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I did an abortion.”
The words dropped between us like a rock through glass.
I blinked. The air suddenly too still.
Jo stared down at her hands, knuckles white from how tightly she held them. “It was last week. You were still dealing with the lab stuff, and I… I didn’t know how to bring it up.”
I didn’t speak.
Couldn’t yet.
She took a breath. “It wasn’t some big dramatic thing. I didn’t tell anyone. Not even the father. I just… made the appointment. Went. Did it. And went home.”
Her voice cracked at the end.
And still—I said nothing.
She turned toward me, eyes glistening. “I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation. But I felt like I was walking around with this secret nailed to my chest. And tonight, when those men showed up, all I could think was… what if I died with it? What if you never knew that part of me? What if you thought I was just your loud, dramatic friend with a million jokes and no darkness?”
My chest hurt.
Finally, I reached out, fingers curling around hers.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. “But I’m here. And I’m not judging you.”
Tears slipped silently down Jo’s cheeks, but she didn’t look away.
She just nodded. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
I squeezed her hand. There were so many things I didn’t understand. So many emotions I couldn’t name. But one thing was certain I wasn’t going to let her sit with this kind of pain alone.
We sat like that for a moment, quiet, the house too still after the earlier chaos. The twins’ laughter floated faintly from the kitchen, and for a second, I wondered if Jo heard it too. If it stung the way it would’ve stung me.
She sniffled, then exhaled shakily, her fingers trembling as they let go of mine.
“I couldn’t have a baby with a man who’s scared to love,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I told him… I told him I was pregnant. Do you know what he said?”
I looked at her gently, waiting.
Jo gave a weak, bitter laugh. “He said, ‘You should’ve told me before it got complicated.’”
My chest twisted.
“Like I was announcing a cold,” she muttered, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. “He said I was being emotional. That I’d ‘trapped’ him. Like I was some psycho looking for a ring.”
I leaned closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Jo…”
She shrugged, voice cracking. “It’s a bad decision. I know. I know it was illegal. I know it was rushed. But I couldn’t breathe, Remi. I couldn't look at a future that included him… and feel safe. And I’m not strong like you. I can’t raise a baby alone. I can barely take care of myself.”
I pulled her into a hug then. Fully. Firmly.
And that was when she let go.
Jo—my bubbly, chaotic, never-serious assistant—curled into me and cried like a child. Her shoulders shook, hands clutching the hem of my shirt like she needed to anchor herself. I stroked her hair slowly, murmuring little nothings while she let it all out.
“It’s not going to be easy,” I said quietly, when her sobs had softened into trembles. “You’ll think about it. You’ll dream about babies. Wonder ‘what if.’ Regret things. Blame yourself.”
She nodded against my shoulder. “Already do.”
“But you’ll also wake up and breathe. You’ll laugh again. Dance like an idiot in the kitchen again. And you’ll heal.”
“I don’t feel like I will,” she murmured.
“That’s because you’re still bleeding,” I said. “Give yourself time. You’re allowed to grieve.”
Jo sat back, wiping her face again, her eyes puffy and red, but more open than before. “You really think I’ll get through it?”
“I know you will,” I said. “Because you’re Jo. You are the light in a storm. And storms don’t stay forever. They pass. Even the loud ones.”
She laughed, barely. “Storm, huh?”
“Category five,” I said, and she actually smiled—just a flicker, but it was there.
We leaned back on the couch together, shoulders pressed, silence settling over us again like a heavy blanket. And this time, it didn’t feel sad. Just… real.
After a long beat, I exhaled, my eyes drifting to the kitchen door. “I want something sweet.”
Jo sniffed, rubbing under her eyes. “You want to bake cookies or something?”
I gave her a look. “Do I look like I want to bake?”
“Fair.” She leaned her head on my shoulder. “What then?”
I sighed. “Warm chocolate. Or malt. Or tea. Just… something warm.”
She nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes one last time. “Hot chocolate it is.”
“Extra cream.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m depresse
d, not heartless.”
I smiled softly, eyes closing for a second. The storm wasn’t over not for her, not for me but for tonight… we had warm drinks.
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