Waiting is the worst part.
I pace the living room until my feet ache. Ross tries to hand me a glass of water, but I just shake my head. Caleb sits on the sofa, his laptop forgotten beside him. Oli sits quietly in the corner, his usually sweet scent carrying a sharp, anxious edge that fills the room. None of us are talking. The secret is out, and now we’re just killing time until the phone rings or Jethro’s truck pulls into the driveway.
I stop at the front window again, pulling back the curtain. The street is still empty. “How long does it take to get to Pueblo?”
“Ninety minutes.” Caleb rubs his eyes behind his glasses. “Maybe slightly more if he got stuck behind any semis.”
“He’s been gone since seven.” I glance at the grandfather clock. “It’s almost noon. That’s five hours. If he was just handing over some cash, he should have been back by now.”
“Negotiations take time, Sandra.” Ross’s voice is tired. “He has to make sure the terms are locked. He has to make sure Sergio understands the law.”
“The law.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “The one that says I’m property. A guy with enough cash can just buy my freedom from the guy who sold me. I spent years at the Haven telling Omegas they weren’t objects, and here I am, being traded.”
“Jethro doesn’t see you like that.” Oli speaks up, his voice soft but firm. “You know he doesn’t. He hates the terminology. He told us he felt gross even bringing it up. But he’d rather use their rules to claim you than let them keep using you as collateral.”
“I know what he thinks.” I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling the reassuring swell of my stomach. “I just wanted him to talk to me about it. I want to be treated like a partner, not a problem he has to go fix behind my back.”
The silence settles back over the room. I can feel the guys’ anxiety radiating off them. They were all in on it. They all agreed that keeping me in the dark was the best play, and that stings almost as much as the fear.
Right before noon, Ross’s phone vibrates on the coffee table.
We all freeze. Ross snatches the phone, answering it on speaker before the first ring even finishes.
“Jet?” Ross asks, his voice tight.
“I’m in the truck.” Jethro’s voice comes through the small speaker, sounding gravelly and exhausted. “It’s done. They won’t ever be bothering Sandra again.”
Relief washes over me so fast my knees go weak. I sink onto the arm of the sofa, letting out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding all morning. He’s alive. The worst-case scenarios playing in my head finally shut off.
“Are you hurt?” Ross asks, watching me closely.
“No.” A pause. The rumble of the diesel engine hums in the background. “Is she awake?”
Ross looks at me. I shake my head, my jaw setting. I’m incredibly relieved he’s safe, but that relief is quickly making room for a very cold, focused annoyance.
“She’s awake, Jet.” Ross’s tone is careful. “She knows.”
The line goes quiet for a long beat. Jethro lets out a heavy exhale over the static. “I’m about ninety minutes out. Tell her I’m coming home.”
“We’ll be here.” Ross ends the call.
He looks at me, offering a tentative smile. “He’s okay. He’s coming back.”
“I heard.” I stand up, smoothing my sweater. I’m too wired to smile. “I just need to wait for him.”
Ross nods. They can feel the tension radiating off me, and they know better than to crowd me right now. They give me space, retreating to the kitchen and other rooms, so I can have the entrance to myself.
I spend the next hour and a half sitting in the high-backed chair in the entrance facing the front door. I think about my father. I think about how he taught me to be a criminal before I finally got away, and how I spent my entire life looking over my shoulder because he proved early on that I couldn’t trust him.
And now Jethro just handed over twenty grand to that same system.
I’m grateful to be safe. Deep down, I know he did it out of love. But I’m still furious he took that choice away from me, and even angrier that he put himself in the line of fire to bail out a man who didn’t deserve a dime of their money.
At 1:15 PM, the low rumble of the truck vibrates through the floorboards. It pulls into the driveway. The engine cuts out. A heavy door slams shut.
I stand up. My pulse quickens. The baby shifts, a restless flutter that matches my own nerves.
The front door opens.
