“We ran into some trouble, but we’re good. No one got bitten,” he assures her. “But you…what the hell happened here? Where were you going?”
She squeezes Emma, her eyes on him until her daughter steps away.
He feared her worse off than when they left, but she’s right here in front of him, one hand twitching at her side like she wants to reach for him but corrects at the last second.
“We don’t need the ultrasound machine anymore.” Her voice is monotone as she holds his stare as if begging him not to make her clarify why.
It shouldn’t hit him as hard as it does. This child was never his.
This family isn’t either.
He is no one to her in the grand scheme of things, but he allowed himself to get caught up in playing house long enough that it started to feel real.
He averts his eyes a moment before forcing them back up, his voice gentle. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll survive. I have no choice.”
The urge to pull her into his arms overwhelms him, and he takes a step forward as if to hug her, only to watch as she steps back with a slight shake of her head.
“I can’t yet,” she whispers.
Can’t feel it. Can’t think about it. Can’t anything, he supposes.
Emma is caught in the middle of this mostly nonverbal interaction, and she isn’t quite on the same wavelength yet. “Momma, what happened?”
Addison strokes a hand through her hair. “I’ll explain later. I’m okay, that’s all you need to know right now, and I’m so glad that both of you are too. I got so worried. I was about to come looking.”
She nearly left the house to find them in her condition, and fuck if that doesn’t send a chill right up his spine. She looks pale and weak, more in need of a few nights’ rest than running off on a rescue mission.
“We had a bit of an adventure that we didn’t ask for with a herd, but—”
“I never should have sent you,” Addison says with a self-deprecating sigh. “You could have gotten hurt, and it would all be for nothing now.”
“Coulda, woulda, shouldas never did anyone any good.”
She shucks her coat and follows him into the kitchen, where he puts the water on.
“Wyatt did a lot of swearing today. We need a jar,” Emma says calmly.
“Wow, okay. Throwing me under the bus like that. I see how it is,” he snorts.
“One swear jar coming right up. The apocalypse is no excuse for poor language,” Addison agrees, throwing him a half-hearted, sly wink that looks far more tired than he wishes it did.
He forces out a half-laugh that barely reaches his eyes, hearing her stomach growl right around the same time his does. “Did you eat? I’ll make something for all of us.”
“You don’t have to, I can—”
“Stay put. I got this.”
He cooks up some scrambled eggs courtesy of the chickens and adds some bacon they found in the chest freezer downstairs.It’s the only thing he can do for her. So he throws his attention into the task, wishing that dinner wasn’t the only comfort he could offer.
* * *
Later, when he’s alone in his room, Wyatt can’t sleep. He wishes there wasn’t a wall separating him from Addison, but she needs to be with Emma, and he won’t begrudge them that.
It doesn’t mean he wants to be alone, either. All the stress from the last few days caught up to him, and he longs to see her face, even if that only means watching her sleep.
She was so exhausted earlier. Helping her through this is entirely out of his depth. It’s not his place anyway, that’s for damn sure.
