Baby’s face went through about six expressions in two seconds. Then he crossed the room, pulled Bear into a hug, and said, “About damn time.”
“It’s been like three minutes since we announced.”
“I meant about damn time you knocked her up. I had money on last summer.”
“Baby,” Quinn smacked her husband, scandalized.
“What? I did. Ask Gabe.”
Bear laughed. He couldn’t help it. This was his family—loud, inappropriate, incapable of letting any moment stay serious for more than thirty seconds.
Joy appeared at his side, tucking herself under his arm. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She leaned into him. “Yeah, I really am.”
Around them, three generations continued to celebrate. His mother was already making plans. His father was pretending he wasn’t emotional. His cousins were cracking jokes and placing bets on gender and due dates.
And in front of the fireplace, two teenagers who’d stumbled out of the snow were watching it all with something like wonder on their faces.
This. This was what they were building.
Bear pulled Joy closer and let himself feel it—the weight of it, the warmth of it, the terrifying perfect reality of what came next.
He couldn’t wait.
?1
1 Books from characters in this chapter:
Bear & Joy – HERO MINE
Marshall & Ashley – HERO’S PRIZE
Chapter 9
The Anomaly
Lincoln
The gathering had thinned considerably by the time Lincoln headed for the back room to grab his computer.
It was nearly midnight. The chaos of earlier had mellowed into something quieter—small clusters of conversation, people gathering coats and children, the particular energy of an evening winding toward its end. Marshall and Ashley had left thirty minutes ago, Marshall’s car running smoothly thanks to Dad’s intervention. Most of the older generation had already departed, taking sleepy grandchildren and containers of leftover food with them.
Lincoln needed his laptop. He’d tucked it under the bed in the back room after his 9:00 PM exchange with Mercury, and it sat there waiting while the rest of him prepared to head home.
He was halfway down the hallway when small footsteps sounded behind him.
“Lincoln.”
He turned. Marie stood in the corridor, her green velvet dress rumpled, her crown of blonde curls listing to one side. She looked like she’d been fighting sleep for hours and losing badly.
“You’re supposed to be with your Grandma Charlie.”
“I saw you leaving.” She padded toward him on bare feet—someone had removed her shoes at some point, probably in anticipation of her falling asleep. “I wanted to tell you something fiwst.”
Lincoln waited.
