Page 162 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“Both?”

I give her a small nod. “Alright.”

Bolt noses her thigh and whines low, unsettled by the salt on her cheeks.

She drops a hand to his head automatically.

“I need you to promise you won’t…” she starts, then stops.

“Won’t what?”

“Leave,” she whispers.

The word’s barely there.

And now my stomach drops.

“I’m not leavin’,” I say immediately. “You’re not even done tellin’ me what’s goin’ on.”

Her breathing stutters.

“I don’t know whose it is,” she blurts.

The sentence hits sideways.

I blink once.

“Whose what is?” I ask gently.

She squeezes her eyes shut.

“I’m pregnant.”

There it is.

Out in the air between us.

Small. Huge.

She’s watching me, expecting the earth to tilt.

It does.

Just a little.

But I don’t move, don’t step back, don’t do anything except breathe.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

Her face crumples.

“That’s it?” she whispers.

“No,” I answer honestly. “That’s just the first step.”

She presses her hands to her mouth.

“It could be yours. Or Wayne’s. Or Fletcher’s. The dates… I did the math. I’ve done it like twenty times. It doesn’t narrow.”