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A few years had passed since that night in Jackson’s room — the night they whispered about the future, about kids, about a life built together.
Time had moved fast. Too fast.
Rocki was 19 now, Jackson 20, sharing a tiny apartment with creaky floors and fairy lights draped everywhere because Rocki refused to live without them. Their kitchen was barely big enough for one person to stand in, the bathroom fan whined like a dying raccoon, and their bedroom was mostly just taken up by their bed.
But it was theirs.
And it felt like home.
Until the morning Rocki woke up nauseous.
At first she blamed the takeout they ate the night before. Then stress. Then maybe a random stomach bug.
But when the nausea hit again the next day.
And the next.
And the next…
Rocki couldn’t ignore it anymore.
So she bought a pregnancy test. Then another. She sat on the cold tile of their small bathroom, knees hugged to her chest while the little digital screen blinked slowly, almost mockingly.
And then it appeared.
Pregnant.
Rocki’s breath froze in her chest. She stared at the word until the letters blurred, her heartbeat pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.
She had always said if she ever had kids, she wanted them with Jackson.
But she hadn’t meant now.
Not when she was only nineteen.
Not when they were scraping by.
Not when she was still figuring out what adulthood even meant.
Her hands shook. Her stomach twisted. She felt like the room was spinning.
That’s exactly how Jackson found her ten minutes later — sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs, the pregnancy test set on the edge of the sink like it was something radioactive.
He stopped in the doorway, breath catching. “Rocki…?”
She didn’t look up at first. She couldn’t. Her throat was too tight, her eyes too wet. Finally she whispered, “Jacks…”
He stepped inside slowly, like approaching a scared animal. His gaze fell on the test. He froze.
“Is that…?” he breathed, voice barely there. “Rock… are you…?”
Rocki finally lifted her eyes — wide, terrified, unsure. “It says yes,” she whispered. “Two of them said yes.”
Jackson knelt down immediately, heart in his throat. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”
She did, and the fear in her eyes almost broke him.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, tears finally slipping. “I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know anything right now.”
Jackson cupped her face without hesitation, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “Okay. That’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Rocki let out a shaky breath, leaning into his hands like she needed something steady.
“You’re not mad?” she whispered. “Or scared? Or—”
“I am scared,” he admitted immediately. “But I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared because of you.” He swallowed. “I’m scared because this is big. But it’s ours. And I’m staying. You’re not going through this alone.”
Rocki’s lip trembled again, but this time it wasn’t fear — it was relief. “I don’t know how to do any of this.”
“We don’t have to know today,” Jackson murmured. “We just have to breathe.”
He pulled her into his arms, and she collapsed against him, her fists gripping his shirt, his chin resting on her hair. He held her for a long time, rocking slightly, grounding both of them.
After a while, Rocki whispered, “You really mean it? We’ll figure it out together?”
Jackson kissed her temple softly. “I meant it the night we talked about the future. And I mean it even more now.” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “If we’re having a baby… then I’m here for all of it. Every step.”
Rocki sniffed. “Even morning sickness?”
“Especially morning sickness.”
She let out a small laugh — tiny, fragile, but real.
And Jackson held her tighter, already imagining a future that suddenly didn’t feel scary at all…
Just unexpected.
And maybe kind of beautiful.
Jackson didn’t let go of her for a long time.
He sat on the cold bathroom floor with Rocki in his lap, his arms around her, her face tucked into the curve of his neck. Her whole body trembled, and he kept rubbing slow circles on her back, trying to will her heartbeat to slow.
Eventually, she pulled back slightly — not far, just enough to see his face.
“You’re… being really calm,” she whispered.
Jackson huffed a breath that was half-laugh, half-panic. “Rock, I am internally losing my mind. Like—my heart is doing backflips.”
A small, wet laugh escaped her. “Okay. Good. Because I thought I was the only one.”
“Nope,” he said softly. “Definitely both of us.”
They sat side by side, backs against the wall, hands intertwined.
Rocki stared at the pregnancy test again — the little screen still declaring it like a headline.
Pregnant.
She pressed her knuckles to her mouth. “Jacks… I’m nineteen. You’re twenty. We’re basically babies ourselves.”
“I know.”
“And this apartment,” she whispered, scanning the tiny bathroom, the peeling paint, the rattling fan. “It barely fits us. We can’t raise a kid in here.”
Jackson's chest tightened. “We’ll figure something out.”
Rocki’s breath shook. “With what money, Jackson? Rent is already choking us. Food is expensive. I can barely keep up with school. You’re juggling two part-time jobs. We can’t afford… diapers and formula and doctor appointments and…” Her voice cracked. “We can’t afford a life.”
Jackson looked down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re right. It’s a lot.”
“It’s too much.” Her eyes filled again. “We’re not ready. We’re not even close to ready.”
Rocki tried to stand but her knees buckled, so Jackson guided her back down slowly, steadying her shoulders.
“Hey. It’s okay. Breathe.”
Her breath came out broken. “I’m scared, Jacks.”
“I know.” He touched her cheek. “I am too.”
There was a long silence — not empty, but heavy. The kind filled with every fear they didn’t know how to voice.
Rocki finally whispered, “How are we supposed to do this? We barely make rent every month. And a baby… a baby is a whole other world.”
Jackson’s jaw tightened thoughtfully. He’d been trying not to say it. Trying to think of other options. Trying to come up with something that didn’t sound like giving up.
But he couldn’t.
“Rock,” he said carefully, “I think… maybe we should consider moving back into the house.”
Rocki’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Just for a while,” Jackson added quickly. “Not forever. Just until we get on our feet.”
Rocki looked torn — relief flickering behind her fear, but also pride. Independence. Everything they’d fought for living on their own.
“We left because we wanted to do this ourselves,” she whispered.
“I know.” Jackson took her hand again, the one that had started trembling. “But… maybe doing this ourselves looks different now.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes filling again. “Your family wouldn’t be mad?”
“My family adores you,” he said gently. “They’d probably start stocking the pantry the second I said the word ‘baby.’”
Rocki let out a weak laugh through her tears. “Yeah… they would.”
“And Ramona would lose her mind. In a good way.”
“Jackson—”
“Rock, listen.” His voice softened even more. “We don’t have to decide anything right now. Not about the house. Not about anything.” He took both her hands. “But you’re right. Rent is too much. Food is too much. Life is too much. And we can’t pretend it’s not.”
Rocki leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then, in a tiny, shaky voice:
“I don’t want to fail at this.”
Jackson’s chest cracked open. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes,” he said firmly, squeezing her hands, “I do. And even if we trip and mess up and freak out along the way, we’ll fail forward. Together.”
Rocki opened her eyes, tears sliding softly down her cheeks. “Do you want this?” she whispered.
Jackson thought — not quickly, not impulsively. Slowly. Honestly.
“I didn’t expect it,” he said. “And it’s huge. And terrifying. And yeah, I’m scared.” His voice gentled. “But if we’re having this baby… then I want it with you.”
Her lip shook, but her eyes softened. “I don’t know what I want yet. I just know I don’t want to do this alone.”
“You won’t,” he breathed. “Not for one second.”
And he pulled her into his arms again — Rocki grabbing his shirt and pressing her face into his shoulder as he held her together, piece by piece.
Eventually, they moved to the couch, wrapped up in one blanket, legs tangled, the pregnancy test sitting silently on the coffee table.
Every few moments, Rocki reached for his hand.
Every time, Jackson squeezed back.
Not with every answer.
Not with certainty.
But with a promise:
Whatever came next — they weren’t facing it separately.
They were already a team.