Page 196 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

It feels like I’m finally finding the place I want to spend it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

June

The waiting room smells of antiseptic, cheap coffee, and nerves.

Mostly mine.

I’m sitting on one of a row of molded plastic chairs that squeaks every time I shift, my hands folded so tightly in my lap my fingers are starting to tingle. The clock on the wall ticks loud enough to feel personal, like it’s counting down to something bigger than just an appointment.

Which… it is.

I glance down at the intake form in my hands for the hundredth time, even though I’ve already filled it out.

Name: June Hartley

Reason for visit: Prenatal ultrasound, 11 - 12 weeks.

I swallow.

It still doesn’t feel real.

Across from me, a woman flips through a parenting magazine with the calm, practiced air of someone who’s done this before. Beside her, a man, her partner probably, scrolls through his phone, one hand resting absentmindedly on her knee.

And then there’s me.

And the three men sitting with me.

Fletcher is on my left, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped together, trying very hard not to fidget. He’s wearing flannel and work boots as he always does, but there’s a tightness about him today, as though he’s here for a job he intends to do right.

Rex is sprawled more loosely beside him, one arm hooked over the back of the chair, long legs stretched out casually. But I know him well enough now to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tap once against his thigh every few seconds.

Wayne sits on my right.

Quiet.

His knee brushes mine, not by accident, and it’s calming in a way I didn’t realize I’d need. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a worn jacket, his hands resting heavy on his thighs, holding himself still.

Having the three of them here with me should feel overwhelming. It should feel like too much, like I’ve made a mess of everything and dragged them into it. Instead, I’ve never felt more held in my life.

A nurse passes by and does a very obvious double-take.

I pretend not to notice.

Rex doesn’t.

He leans slightly toward me. “We're making the waiting room nervous, darlin’.”

I bite back a smile. “We’re the waiting room’s worst nightmare.”

Fletcher huffs quietly.

Wayne doesn’t say anything, but his thumb shifts slightly against his knee, brushing mine again.

It’s enough.

A few weeks ago, I was standing in a kitchen, convinced everything was about to fall apart.