“Never,” Charlie says, moving away from Willa to pull him into a hug. “Congratulations, brother. That was the best ride I’ve ever seen.”
“Seriously,” I add, reaching out to grip Beau’s shoulder. “You made Hellfire look easy. Rode him like he was a damn carousel horse.”
Beau laughs, the sound full of satisfaction and relief. “Felt good. Felt really fucking good.” His eyes find Willa’s, and his expression softens. “Especially knowing you were watching.”
“I almost had a heart attack,” she says, but she’s smiling. “You scared the hell out of me.” She laughs and walks over to embrace him, reaching up to cup his face. “Congratulations, champion.”
“Thank you, baby.” He leans down, pressing a softer kiss to her lips. “But you three are way more interesting than any buckle.”
“Liar,” she accuses.
“Maybe a little.” He grins. “But you’re definitely a close second.”
Charlie snorts from behind her. “Real romantic, Beau.”
“I contain multitudes.” But his expression softens as he studies her face more carefully, taking in the exhaustion beneath the arousal. “You doing okay? You look tired.”
Something in her scent shifts. Goes sweeter, richer. I catch it at the same time Charlie does, both of us turning to look at her with sudden focus.
“Willa?” Charlie’s voice is intentionally casual. “What’s going on?”
She takes a breath, looking at each of us in turn. Her hand drifts to her stomach—a gesture so unconscious I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it.
“I have something to tell you,” she says quietly.
Beau goes still, his Alpha instincts immediately zeroing in on her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Her smile is nervous but genuine. “Actually, something’s really, really right.”
My heart starts pounding. Because I think— I think I know what she’s about to say. The change in her scent, the way she keeps touching her stomach, the nervous energy rolling off her in waves.
“Willa?” I manage to get out. “What is it?”
She looks at me, then at Charlie, then at Beau. Takes a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
Complete, utter silence as the words register. As they sink in and reshape everything.
Then—
“What?” Beau’s voice comes out strangled.
“You’re—" Charlie can’t seem to finish the sentence.
I just stare at her, my mouth open, my brain trying to process. Pregnant. She’s pregnant. With our child.
“I’m pregnant,” she repeats, and now she’s smiling—that brilliant, beautiful smile that makes my chest ache. “About ten weeks. I found out two weeks ago, but I wanted to wait until after the championship to tell you. Didn’t want Beau distracted.”
“Pregnant,” Beau repeats like he’s testing the word. Then his face transforms. Pure, uncomplicated joy spreading across his features. “You’re pregnant!”
“Yes.”
He lets out a whoop that echoes down the service hallway, picks her up, and spins her around despite her shriek of protest.
“Beau! Put me down! Or I’ll hurl on you?—”
