Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I drag both hands through my hair and let out a shaky breath. Okay, Dillon. Breathe. This is not the part where you freak out and make things worse.
She hasn’t told us yet, which means she isn’t ready. Which means I need to pretend I haven’t seen anything.
Patience. I groan. My least favorite virtue.
But I can do it for her. I have to try.
I stare at the trash for one more long second, my heart pounding hard enough to bruise, then I exhale and push myself away from the counter. Whatever this means, whatever comes next, we’ll handle it.
Together.
Quietly crossing to the bathroom door, I push it open and slip back into the bedroom, my entire world feeling suddenly bigger.
22
ROXIE
When I wake up, the emptiness of the room is obvious and immediate. My bed is warm, sheets tangled around my legs. But the guys are gone.
For a second, my tired brain panics, reacting instinctively before I realize… no. They’re probably just in the kitchen or already up, doing whatever ridiculously responsible morning things they do.
Making breakfast. Working out. Cleaning. Getting ready.
Their scents still cling to the bedding, though. Warm and masculine and familiar. Boone’s cedar. Chance’s clean sweat and spice. Dillon’s crisp, subtle cologne. I pull in a slow breath, let it fill my lungs, and it calms me in a way I don’t expect.
God, I hadn’t realized how much I love waking up like this, surrounded by the leftover warmth of three men who make me feel safe, wanted, and cherished.
I roll onto my back and stare out the window. The mountains are dusted in white, like someone sifted powdered sugar over them overnight. It really is impossibly beautiful out here. Quiet, serene, and tucked away from the world and all its ugliness.
Really, it’s no wonder I’m falling so fast. In a place like this, with so few distractions, everything feels so much more intense. For weeks, we’ve had nothing to do but work and spend time together.
I think of Dillon and how he always makes me laugh. He has this mind that never stops moving, never stops solving puzzles, and yet he always makes space for me in his day. I don’t even have to ask. He’s brilliant in a way that should be intimidating, but instead it feels comforting. Like he could hack the universe if he needed to, just to keep me safe.
Boone, on the other hand, is my steady wall of calm. Strong in a way that isn’t loud. Grounded. Patient. Every time he looks at me, I feel tethered to something solid. Like the whole world could turn abruptly upside down, but he’d hold me right side up through sheer force of will.
Chance is fire and warmth, stubborn loyalty and heat. He touches me like he can’t help himself, kisses me like he’s starving, and holds me like I’m precious.
They only pay attention to their phones when they’re working, and when they aren’t, they’re completely present.
My heart stumbles at the thought. It still doesn’t feel real that I can want them all, that they all want me back, and that everyone is just completely okay with it. But the soft morning haze of my thoughts burns off fast when something colder and sharper sneaks in as full consciousness settles.
Right. It’s called reality. Fuck.
I push my palms over my face, my breath catching somewhere between a laugh and a groan. I tell myself I’ll deal with it later but later is now and I’m pregnant.
The symptoms aren’t subtle anymore, yet I’ve stuck my head so far into the sand I’m basically suffocating in it. My hands drift to my stomach, resting there like even that tiny contact might give me answers I’m not ready for.
I’m not just falling for these three men, I’m carrying one of their babies, and ready or not, it’s time to stop pretending otherwise. Energy rushes through me, giving me an urge to move. To do something. Still, I push myself upright slowly, doing my best to keep the nausea at bay.
My phone lies on the nightstand and my fingers hover over it for a second, my pulse loud in my ears. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick it up and dial Madison. She answers on the second ring.
“Rox?” Her voice is groggy. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine. Well, I’m not fine, but I’m not in trouble either.” I suck in a shaky breath. “I just need to tell you something and I have to say it now or I’ll lose the nerve, but you have to promise not to scream.”
There’s a quiet beat. “You’re pregnant.”
“I—wait. How did you?”
“Because I’m psychic. Or maybe it’s because you only say don’t scream when it’s something absolutely insane and this would definitely qualify. So are you? Like, really?”
My throat tightens. “Yeah. I, uh, I took a test.”