Amka studied him. He’d come straight from somewhere outdoors. There was sawdust on his boots and a faint smear of dirt across his forearm. His shoulders looked heavier than usual, tension sitting there like it had claimed territory. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Why don’t we go into the back room?”
No expression crossed his rugged face. “All right.” He slid off the stool and walked around the bar without another word, one hand resting briefly at her lower back as he gestured her ahead of him. The contact was warm and steady.
She led him past the kitchen door into the back room she had carved out for the in-between moments. A twin bed rested against one wall with a thick quilt folded neatly at the foot, and a soft lamp glowed in the corner beside a small table and two mismatched chairs. The attached bathroom was tucked off to the side. She had decorated the space in bold colors, draping woven blankets from her grandmother over the chair backs and pinning bright art along the walls, including two photographs captured by May. One featured a sunset over the mountains, and the other a salmon swimming upstream.
Near the back door sat an enormous lost-and-found basket that was already half full with hats, scarves, a single boot, and a phone charger that was abandoned months ago.
She closed the door behind them. For a second, neither of them spoke. The air felt different in here. Her heart thudded harder than it should.
His presence overwhelmed the space like always. Christian Osprey had a way about him. The room felt smaller with him in it, warmer, like the air bent toward him.
Amka swallowed and then walked a few feet away to get some space between them before turning to face him. The woven rug muffled her steps. He watched her, steady and unreadable, but didn’t say anything.
“So,” she said.
“Are you tired of sleeping outside?” he asked suddenly.
She paused and tried to follow his line of thought. “Huh?”
“Are you tired of sleeping outside with me?”
“Oh no. I love sleeping outside.” She let out a short breath. “I really do.”
They had a ledge out back of his place that overlooked the trees and a slice of water beyond. It was tucked under a rock outcropping so they were covered from rain and snow but still open to the night air. He’d hauled a thick mattress out there last summer and built a low frame so it wouldn’t shift. He was always doing things like that. Quiet things. Thoughtful things. It was one of the reasons she loved him so fiercely.
“Have you changed your mind about the wedding?” he asked.
That stopped her cold. She straightened slowly. “No. Have you?”
“Of course not.” He leaned back against the door, big and broad. More than a little dangerous when he wanted to be. His boots were planted wide, like he wasn’t going anywhere. “But you’ve been off.”
“You noticed.”
“Yeah.” A tiny flicker of amusement touched his bottom lip. “I noticed.”
She let out a soft breath. “Okay.”
The bed in the corner looked too small all of a sudden. The lamp buzzed faintly. Outside the door, someone laughed in the bar, then the sound faded.
“Everything’s fine,” she said carefully. “I still want to get married. I love you more than anything.”
“All right.” He just waited, patient in that infuriating way he had.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t want this to change anything between us.”
His gaze sharpened. “Don’t want what to change anything between us?”
She swallowed. “You have to promise you’re still going to attend the AWT training.”
“Amka, what’s going on?” There it was. The shift in his voice. Most people wouldn’t catch it. She did. He wasn’t angry or scared. He was bracing. That didn’t mean anything dramatic was about to happen, but he had been known to kiss her into confessing whatever she was holding back, and right now she needed a clear head.
She drew in another breath and steadied herself. “I’m pregnant.”
For a full second, he didn’t move. Then he slowly, very slowly, tilted his head. “You’re what?”
She almost laughed. Had she ever seen Christian caught off guard? Ever? The man handled bar fights, snowstorms, and broken engines without blinking. “Pregnant,” she repeated, softer this time. “I have a baby in me.”
His jaw went slack.
