Page 113 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I lock my phone and sit down hard on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on my knees.

This doesn’t fit. It doesn’t smell right. How did they get my number anyway?

They can’t be talking about June, not June with her careful hands and soft voice. June, who builds toys that don’t splinter because she thinks about how small fingers grip things. June, who watches Evan like he’s precious, not just a responsibility.

I don’t believe it.

But belief doesn’t matter when it comes to your kid’s safety.

I stare at the dark wall across from me, jaw clenched, thoughts spinning fast now. Who sent this? Why now? And if it’s not true, then why does someone want me to think it is?

Tomorrow morning, I was going to talk to her about toys and markets.

Now?

Now I have to figure out whether there’s a threat inside my house.

And the worst part, the part I don’t want to admit even to myself, is how badly I need the claims in the email to be wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

June

I know something’s wrong the moment I hear him moving around the kitchen.

Wayne doesn’t pace. He doesn’t fidget. He doesn’t do unsettled. He’s precise; every movement has a purpose. This morning, the purpose feels… defensive.

His coffee sits untouched.

That’s my first clue.

“Morning,” I say too brightly, wishing for the normal version of today.

“Morning,” he answers.

One word. Flat. Careful.

My stomach tightens.

Evan’s still sleeping, and the house feels wrong without him bouncing around the kitchen. It’s too quiet, too hollow, a held breath that’s gone on too long.

Wayne pulls his phone from his pocket and sets it on the counter between us.

“I got an email last night,” he says.

Something cold slides into my chest.

“Okay,” I manage.

“It said you were fired from your last job for inappropriate conduct. Complaints from parents.”

The words don’t hit all at once. They land in pieces. In echoes.

“Oh,” I say, my mouth going dry, my heart starting to thump almost painfully.

He watches me closely. “Is it true?”

I don’t even try to hold it together.