“Get out,” he says immediately, instantly regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Jason grabs your wrist before you can move. “No, I didn’t mean—I just need a second.” He grips your fingers in his hand. You’re… pregnant. He’s the father. The sentences make sense, but they’re not processing. Jason, a dad? He can barely take care of himself. You shouldn’t be burdened with carrying *his* baby. “What do you want to do?” he finally asks, meeting your eyes.