“Mac and Archer are on their way. Adam and Noah aren’t answering the phone. The core-four said they might be a bit late getting there. Atticus and Jericho are already on their way. What about you two? What’s your ETA?”
“Depends on the roads,” August answered. “If they’ve salted them? The usual time barring any unforeseen traffic.”
Lucas’s head was spinning. No—Lucas was spinning in a circle, unsure what to do first. The room felt too warm, too bright, the fire crackling cheerfully like it didn’t realize the world had just veered sideways. His sweater suddenly felt too tight, the air too thin, as though the entire house had tipped by a few degrees.
Cricket’s bag. That would be a good start.
He sprinted down the hall and grabbed her bright yellow LV suitcase and the smaller version that contained all of the new baby’s must-haves. He was certain that Thomas had decked out her suite with everything she could possibly need just like Allister’s birth, but he wasn’t leaving anything to chance. The wheels on the suitcase thunk-thunked against the floor as he dragged it back toward the living room, breath already coming too fast. He nearly tripped over one of August’s abandoned textbooks and swore under his breath, the panic tightening around his ribs like a corset.
“I can handle everything from here,” Thomas said over the line. “We’ve been preparing for this for months. Just get here when you can. It could be hours before she actually gives birth. Don’t panic.”
“I never panic,” August said dismissively.
“I was talking to Lucas,” Thomas said.
Lucas froze mid-step like someone had unplugged him. He was still pacing back and forth trying to get his brain to cooperate. His heart was thudding against his ribs like it wanted out, fingers twitching uselessly around the handle of Cricket’s suitcase. A wave of heat and cold rolled through him at the same time, as if his body couldn’t decide which emergency response to commit to.
August snorted. “That ship has sailed, I’m afraid.”
Lucas turned to glower at him.
“Gotta go, Dad. See you soon,” August finished before hanging up.
“What do I do?” Lucas asked, voice too thin, too high.His thoughts were piling on top of each other—call the family, get coats, double-check the hospital-grade supplies Thomas probably already bought three of, try not to think of his best friend and unborn child on the highway in a blizzard. His brain was a frantic avalanche: ideas, fears, lists, all crashing at once with no way to sort them.
August crossed the room in two strides and pulled him into a hug. The solidity of him, the warmth, the quiet strength in his arms finally gave Lucas’s frantic mind something to hold onto. Lucas pressed his forehead to August’s collarbone, breathing him in, letting the world steady.
“I’ll go make sure we grab everything needed,” August murmured into his hair. “You start calling the family and letting them know that this will not be our typical Mulvaney Christmas Eve.”
Lucas nodded against his chest, swallowing hard, clinging to the one task he could handle right then. The storm outside rattled the windows again, a reminder that the world was a mess, but inside, they were moving, acting, preparing. Together. They would get through this like they always did.
As a family.
One big, dysfunctional, crazy-as-fuck family.
There were many benefits to being married to a former soldier and wildlife photographer. Archer hadn’t thought the benefit he’d need most on this Christmas Eve road trip would be his husband’s wilderness survival skills, but Mac’s incessant need to be prepared for anything would save them.
Literally.
Outside the car window, the snow was blinding. They were still an hour away from home, and Archer’s baby, his prize possession—his Rover—had two flat tires. The cell phone reception was spotty at best. Visibility was at a zero. The world beyond the windshield looked like a shaken snow globe, white swallowing white until even the road seemed imaginary.
They couldn’t continue to drive on the two flat tires. And the only exit for miles was the small town of Holly Harbour, about a mile’s hike in the opposite direction. They’d tried to flag down a passing vehicle, but they hadn’t seen a single car in thirty minutes. Not even the faint glow of distantheadlights—just the storm muting everything like thick wool pressed over their ears.
Archer had been playing passenger princess for most of their three-day drive from Nevada, mainly in charge of acquiring snacks, curating the perfect road trip playlist, and playing navigator whenever the GPS had a stroke due to a lost signal. In true princess fashion, he’d opted for maximum comfort and minimal practicality.
So while Mac was wearing weatherproof cargos over his thermals and two layers of shirts beneath his sweater, Archer was wearing only jeans, a t-shirt, and a coat that was more about looks than warmth. Hewaswearing his hiking boots, though. They’d really sold the look of the outfit. He looked amazing. He also looked about five minutes from hypothermia.
But thanks to Mac’s Boy Scout nature, the Rover was always fully stocked for emergencies. They had extra clothes, snacks, water, and anything else one might need to hike a mile in foul weather. Weather far worse than this. Weather they’d experienced more than once in their global travel.
They’d hiked up mountains with zero visibility, slept staked to the side of a mountain, gotten stranded in Austria in the middle of winter. But world-traveler Archer was prepared for any eventuality. Traversing the globe could be fraught with danger. Traversing an interstate during the holiday season had not pinged his ‘life-threatening events’ radar. There was something personally insulting about the universe decidingthiswas the moment to humble him.
So he was not mentally prepared when Mac announcedthey would have to hike back to the little town a mile back. In the grand scheme of things, a mile hike, even in this abysmal weather, would be a cakewalk. But that didn’t mean Archer wouldn’t whine about it.
“I cannot believe we don’t have a spare tire,” he shouted over the harsh winds.
He could feel Mac’s side-eye without looking. “Wedohave a spare, Katniss. We need two. Also, that little donut isn’t safe for these weather conditions. You know that. But don’t worry. I’ll have you in a heated motel room before you know it. Maybe it will even have one of those old-fashioned magic fingers vibrating beds.”
“Mock me all you want, but this isn’t exactly how we planned to spend Christmas Eve. Is it?”
