It wasn’t supposed to happen like this—not now, not to him. Hosea Matthews had lived a long, winding life full of cons, chases, and close calls. He’d long made peace with the idea that some roads were never meant for him. Fatherhood had always felt like a door that closed quietly behind him, years ago.

And yet, here they were.

When you told him the news, it was late—just the two of you watching the moon rise beyond the trees, a quiet moment stolen from a world too loud. Hosea had gone still, the firelight flickering across his face as your words sank in. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on his weathered features, the scent of pine and smoke hanging heavy in the air.

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at you with something between disbelief and awe, like he was watching a trick he couldn’t quite unravel. The warmth of the fire kissed your skin while the night air nipped at your exposed arms.

“Well,” he’d murmured at last, voice hoarse with something heavy, “you’ve gone and changed everything, haven’t you?”