I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. My mouth went dry. “I, uh—“ I started, then stopped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” he said, closing the laptop with a soft click. “Just working on some security stuff for Rawley. Nothing that can’t wait.”
The word “security” sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. Tomorrow was Dennis’s bail hearing. The thought made my stomach flip again, but I forced it down.
“That’s actually why I’m here,” I said, then immediately regretted it. Not that, I thought. Not yet.
But Carter was already nodding, face serious. “If you’re worried about tomorrow, we’ve got it covered. Rawley’s got half the sheriff’s department on speed dial, and Macon’s been running drills with the dogs. Nobody’s getting on this property without us knowing about it.”
It should have been comforting, but all I could think about was how none of that would matter if Dennis got out and came after me. If what I suspected was true, I wouldn’t just be protecting myself anymore.
“Carter,” I said, my voice catching. “I think I’m pregnant.”
The words hung in the air between us. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the surprise or worse, the disgust. So I stared at my shoes instead, at the scuffed toes and the little hole starting near the left big toe.
“Oh, Danny,” Carter said, and there was something in his voice—not shock, not judgment. Understanding.
My head snapped up. Carter was watching me, eyes soft behind his glasses. He didn’t look surprised at all. If anything, he looked like he’d been expecting this.
“How did you know?” I asked.
He smiled, a little sad around the edges. “Because the same thing happened to me, about six weeks ago. With Macon.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re...?”
He nodded. “Twelve weeks along. This is baby number two. We just barely got done baking baby number one. Rawley doesn’t know yet, so keep it between us for now?”
I nodded, dumbfounded. Carter—polished, put-together Carter—was pregnant. With Macon’s baby. Again.
The world tilted sideways for a second.
“How did you...” I started, then stopped, not sure how to finish.
“Know?” Carter supplied. “Morning sickness was the first clue. Then the sensitivity to smells, and the...” He touched his chest lightly. “Tenderness. It hit me all at once, like being hit by a truck.”
My hand drifted to my stomach without me meaning it to. It was still flat—of course it was—but I couldn’t help wondering if there was really something in there. A tiny spark of Burke and me, mixed together into something new.
“I threw up three times this week,” I admitted, voice small. “And my chest hurts, and everything smells weird. Even Burke’s soap, which I used to love, makes me want to gag now.”
Carter nodded. “Yep. Sounds familiar.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
I sank into the chair, my legs suddenly weak. “What do I do?” The question came out more desperate than I meant it to.
Carter leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “First, you breathe. Then you get a test to be sure. Then you tell Burke, because he’s going to be ecstatic, trust me.”
“Is he?” I asked, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. “What if he’s not ready? What if he thinks it’s too soon, or—“
“He won’t,” Carter said firmly. “That man looks at you like you hung the moon. A baby would just be... extra moons, I guess?”
I laughed despite myself, the sound rusty. “I don’t know the first thing about being pregnant. Or being a parent. My mom wasn’t exactly winning awards.”
“Nobody does, at first,” Carter said. “But you figure it out. And you’re not alone—you’ve got Burke, and Jojo’s already planning your baby shower, whether you’re pregnant or not.”
My stomach dropped. “The bail hearing’s tomorrow,” I said. “What if Dennis gets out? What if he—“
“He won’t,” Carter cut in, voice steady. “And even if he does, you’re not going back there. Not ever. We’ve got plans, Danny. Good ones.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did. But the fear was still there, a cold knot in my chest that wouldn’t dissolve no matter how many deep breaths I took.
