One in the hallway.
Two covering the front door.
Havoc sits cross-legged on the floor arguing with a screwdriver.
“This thing hates me,” he mutters.
Saint doesn’t help.
He just watches me carry the baby inside.
His eyes follow every step like he’s afraid the world might steal her away if he looks somewhere else.
“This okay?” I ask.
He nods immediately.
“More than okay.”
There’s relief in his voice.
The kind he doesn’t try to hide anymore.
That night, after the baby falls asleep in the kitchen crib, the tavern goes quiet.
Saint and I sit on the sofa after we move up to the living area.
Two mugs of coffee slowly going cold between us.
Outside, Eagle River is dark and quiet.
Too quiet.
“Thank you for trusting us,” he says after a while.
I shake my head slightly.
“I’m not,” I admit.
His brow lifts.
“I’m choosing.”
He studies me for a moment.
Then he nods slowly.
“I like that better.”
For a little while, we just sit there.
The lights low.
The town sleeping.
Saint across the table from me.
Our daughter safe in the next room.
