The babies squeal.
Harper laughs.
Kayley glances up—catches my eye—and smiles like she’s been waiting for me to come back.
And something in me breaks and seals at the same time.
I walk back into the main room, forcing my face into calm. I can’t bring the darkness into her eyes. Not yet.
Kayley stands, scooping Aidan up with practiced ease. “Everything okay?”
I nod, stepping close enough that my hand brushes her hip as I pass. A small touch. Grounding—for both of us. “Yeah,” I say, voice steady. “Just work.”
She studies me like she doesn’t quite believe that, but she doesn’t push. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
Harper lifts Poppi onto her shoulder and smiles at Kayley. “You’re welcome here, you know.”
Kayley’s throat bobs. “Thank you.”
Chase calls out, “Careful, Harper. Next thing you know she’ll be reorganizing our pantry and teaching Boyd how to smile.”
Boyd’s voice is flat. “I don’t smile.”
Kayley surprises everyone by turning toward Boyd and saying, “Yes you do.”
Boyd pauses like he’s been shot.
The room laughs again, and Kayley’s smile widens, and for a few seconds… I let myself stand in it.
Let myself imagine this as normal.
But the folder in my mind stays open.
Mark Renshaw.
A trafficking ring.
A baby broker.
A father who might not be a father at all—just a hunter.
And Kayley and Aidan are the prey.
Not if I have anything to do with it.
By the time we leave the lodge, it’s late.
The compound is quiet again, lights glowing in windows like watchful eyes. Snow hushes the world, turning every sound soft. Kayley’s exhausted—she hides it well, but I see it in the way her shoulders sag when she thinks no one is looking.
Aidan’s asleep against her chest, little mouth open, drool shining on his chin.
I take him gently without asking. She lets me.
That trust still hits me like a blade.
We walk to my cabin, and I keep my body angled between her and the dark treeline. Old instincts. New stakes.
Inside, the warmth wraps around us. I lock the door, check the windows, and set Aidan in the bassinet. Kayley shrugs out of her coat and stands there a moment like she doesn’t know what to do with herself when she isn’t in motion.
