“What if I’m not ready?” I whispered.
Carter’s face softened. “Nobody’s ever ready, Danny. But you’ll do it anyway, because that’s what parents do. They figure it out as they go.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My hand was back on my stomach, a gesture I hadn’t even realized I was making. There was nothing to feel yet—no bump, no movement—but the possibility was there, growing with every second.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
Carter reached across the desk, his hand covering mine. “Me too,” he said. “Every day. But it gets better. I promise.”
For a long moment, we just sat there, hands linked across the desk. Outside, the ranch went about its business—dogs barking, tractors rumbling, life continuing its steady pace. But in here, everything had changed.
Or maybe it was just me who’d changed, finally ready to admit what I’d known, deep down, since that first wave of nausea hit.
I was having Burke’s baby.
And somehow, despite everything—Dennis, the hearing, the fear that wouldn’t quit—the thought made me smile.
Carter leaned back in his chair, studying me with those thoughtful gray eyes. The afternoon light caught in his hair, turning the brown strands almost copper at the edges.
For a second, he looked so much like Rawley it was almost funny—the same calculating look, the same way of holding himself perfectly still while his brain worked overtime. But where Rawley would have already been barking orders and mobilizing the troops, Carter just reached for a notepad and started writing.
“Regardless of what happens at the hearing tomorrow,” he said, pen moving across the page in quick, efficient strokes, “we’re upgrading security around the house. Motion sensors, panic button, the works.”
My stomach flipped, but not from morning sickness this time. “You don’t have to—“
“Yes, we do,” Carter cut in, not looking up from his notes. “It’s not just about you anymore.” He paused, then added softly, “If you are pregnant.”
The word still made my head spin. Pregnant. Me. With Burke’s baby. It was like trying to picture myself on Mars—theoretically possible, but so far outside my experience I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around it.
Carter was still writing, his handwriting neat and precise despite the speed. “Rawley’s already got cameras covering the main road and the north pasture. Macon’s been working on a perimeter alarm system that would make Fort Knox look like a lemonade stand. And Burke...” He smiled, a little privately. “Burke would tear down the barn with his bare hands if he thought it would keep you safe.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. That sounded like Burke—all protective instinct and barely contained rage when it came to anything that threatened what was his. The thought should have been scary, but instead, it made something warm unfurl in my chest.
“How did you tell Macon?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “About the baby, I mean. Was he... was he happy?”
Carter set his pen down, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “He cried,” he said simply. “Big, ugly sobs, right there in the barn. Then he picked me up and spun me around so fast I thought we’d both fall over.” He laughed at the memory. “It wasn’t elegant or planned. I just blurted it out while we were feeding the goats. But you know what? Sometimes the words themselves don’t matter as much as trusting in the person you’re telling them to.”
The advice settled over me like a blanket, warm and heavy with truth. I’d spent so long keeping secrets, guarding every word, that the idea of just... saying it, without worrying about how it would land or what would happen next—that was terrifying. But also, somehow, freeing.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, the words barely above a whisper. “Not of Burke’s reaction. Of... everything else. Of being responsible for another person when I can barely take care of myself. Of Dennis finding out and—“ I stopped, unable to finish the thought.
Carter’s face softened. “That’s why you’ve got us,” he said. “All of us. You’re not in this alone, Danny. Not anymore.”
Something tight in my chest loosened, just a little. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
We talked for a few more minutes about morning sickness remedies—ginger tea, apparently—about prenatal vitamins, about the doctor in town who wouldn’t ask too many questions.
By the time we were done, the knot in my stomach had eased from a fist to something I could almost breathe around.
As our conversation wound down, Carter stood, gathering his notes into a neat stack. “I should get these to Macon,” he said. “He’ll want to start on the security upgrades right away.”
I rose too, suddenly aware of how long I’d been keeping him. “Thanks for... you know. Listening. And not freaking out.”
He smiled, warm and genuine. “Any time. That’s what family’s for, right?”
The word—family—hung in the air between us. For a second, I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat. Then Carter was there, one hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently.
“Go tell Burke,” he said. “He’s been looking for you all morning.”
