Page 179 of We Drank the Dawn

“She’ll be back soon. Want me to rock you?”

She nodded, starting to suck on her fingers.

“Can you grab her blanket?”

“Yes.” Sarah pulled it from her bed then tucked it around Wren.

I eased into the rocking chair, patting her little back as I launched into a slow rocking motion.

Quiet wooden groans filled the quiet, and pretty soon Wren’s breaths deepened, and her slobbery fingers slipped out of her mouth. Loving the way Wren’s little body perched against my chest, I dreaded leaving, lingering longer than necessary.

“You like this, huh?” Sarah whispered.

“I do.”

She hummed. “Shirtless and holding a baby is a good look on you. I’m getting wild thoughts right now.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

“Thoughts like I need your baby in me—immediately.”

My lips twitched with a smile. “You never told me if you want to keep that appointment, by the way.”

“Oh, I thought me throwing myself at you was a clear answer.”

The snark in her voice made me chuckle. Returning to our usual banter felt great. “I’m pretty sure I understood.”

She moved through the dark, closer to me. “I’m excited for it.”

“Me too.”

Her face appeared at my shoulder as she looked at Wren. “I wonder if our baby will be this beautiful.”

“With you as a mom? Absolutely.” With my free hand, I reached up to slip my hand around Sarah’s chin. Gently, I drew her face to mine, kissing her warm and eager lips.

She pulled back. “You know…the fire was very rude to interrupt us like that.”

“Mm. It was.”

“When do we get to resume?”

I placed one more tender kiss on her lips. “I think we should stick around to help first.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

At that, I put Wren back in her crib and grabbed the baby monitor that Bea had left on the kitchen counter. Then we returned to the barn to find flashing emergency lights, a team of men, and a jet stream of water hitting the dwindling flames.

SIXTY-ONE

Cooper

Ihefted my backpack up on my shoulders, picking up my pace.

The first light of dawn trickled over the sky, turning the eastern horizon a dark purple. I didn’t bother looking at it though—just kept my head down, watching the gravel shift beneath my feet. The fire department left an hour ago. And while everyone was drinking coffee on the front porch, staring at the twig-like remains of the barn, I stole away to the bunkhouse to pack up my stuff.

I wished I had a truck or something.

A getaway car would make this a hell of a lot faster.