Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“This is very domestic,” I inform him. “Just saying.”
“We gotta eat, Duchess. I’ll be out at the north pasture with the guys for a while.”
He squeezes my hand, and then he walks away, and I’m in a nice little daze as I return to the greenhouse. Yeah, it’s domestic as fuck, but it’s not boring. Not even a little.
It’s kind of . . . nice.
And the kind of relationship that I never witnessed as a kid, so I’m kind of floundering here. My parents were the definition of abusive marriage. My older brother only recently settled down with Millie, so it’s not like I grew up around strong relationships.
I don’t know how to do this. I don’t have any kind of handbook of what a healthy connection looks like.
But this feels healthy.
So, I’m going to go with it for now.
Sylvester’s waiting for me by the garden gate, taking a bath in the sunshine, and when I get closer, he stands and stretches before winding his way through my legs.
“Hey, buddy,” I say before scratching behind his ears. “Let’s plant the rosebushes, and then we have some arnica to gather.”
I already have one batch of arnica soaking in oil for a salve, but a few more blooms opened and are ready to be harvested.
I wonder if Tucker would let me use the cabin kitchen for salves and oils, keeping it separate from the kitchen in the house. It would make things simple, that’s for sure.
With that in mind, I finish up with the rosebushes, but my phone rings. I’m expecting Dr. Fisher, but instead, it’s Holden.
“Hey, big brother,” I answer as I pull my gloves off.
“Darbs,” he says, and I know that something’s not right. His voice is wrong. “Are you in the middle of something?”
“No. What’s going on? Just tell me.”
“Millie’s pregnant.”
My heart stumbles and then speeds up. “And?”
“And what? My wife’s pregnant. That’s the news.”
“Christ, you about gave me a fucking heart attack. You sound like something’s wrong, Holden. This is great news! I know you want babies.”
“Yeah, but now I don’t think I do.”
“Wait. Why?”
“Because it’s making her sick, and I can’t stand it. How am I going to watch her writhe in pain? She could die, Darby. This isn’t such a good idea.”
“Whoa, slow down. First of all, everything that she’s going through is normal. It’s what women do when they’re pregnant. Second, you will watch her be strong and so fucking badass that it will humble you, and then you’ll have a perfect little baby for all of us to love. She’s not going to die, Holden. This is incredible, and I’m so happy for you guys.”
He blows out a breath, and I can hear him pacing.
“Yeah, okay.”
I bark out a laugh, catching Sylvester’s attention. “Don’t worry so much.”
“She’s the reason I breathe, Darby. Of course I’m worried.”
“Okay, you can worry a little. But Millie’s as tough as it gets. She’s going to do so great. Kiss her for me, and I’ll see you soon to give you hugs.”
“Thanks for talking me off the edge.”
“It’s usually the other way around, so I’m happy I could help. You’re everyone’s rock, Holden. It’s okay to lean on us a little too. I love you.”
“Love you, too, kiddo. I’ll see you later.”
I hang up and smile up at the sunshine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TUCKER
It’s been a week of having Darby in my bed, my house, my kitchen. She helps with the ranch, and gets called out with Dr. Fisher fairly often, and we’ve settled into a rhythm.
Into a dance of sorts, as if it’s easy. As if we were always supposed to be here, just like this. She makes me laugh like no one else can, and she’s so fucking smart.
Way smarter than me.
The garden beds and greenhouse are fully planted and soon will be bursting at the seams with produce and flowers, and she lovingly tends to them every day, even in the rain. And Sylvester follows close to her heels, as if he also got the memo that she’s fucking special.
She fits so seamlessly, I wonder if it should alarm me. If it should put me on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But so far, I’m enjoying the fuck out of her.
And enjoying fucking her.
Xander’s plane just landed, and I pull up to the curb of the tiny airport outside Bitterroot Valley, waiting for him. It only takes minutes for him to appear at the passenger side of my truck, just a backpack on his shoulder.
Of course, he has a house here, and he’s only here for thirty-six hours.
“Hey,” he says as he sits next to me and buckles up. “Fucking finally.”
Xander hasn’t been home since late last year. The hockey season is long and keeps him away for months at a time.
“Welcome home,” I say as I pull away from the airport, headed toward Xander’s house. “Easy flight?”