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With a sip of tea to open up his suddenly tight throat, he cast a surreptitious glance at his phone — selfies of his wife and smiling daughters, just before loading the buses for camp, followed by short texts.

I know you gave an excellent talk. Girls love you.

So do I.

If you go to the golf course, I need a photo of you in those slacks.

He swallowed a laugh, so damn happy and blessed he couldn’t stand it.

Holy hell, this promised to be a long week. He missed her already.

And he couldn’t wait to be home.

Chapter Sixteen

Break Your Plans

“Alice, are you sure?” Caitlin swallowed hard, trying to still the tremor in her voice. She couldn’t make herself turn and look at the sonogram screen, afraid of what she’d see and more afraid of what she wouldn’t see.

“Girl, I am sure.” Exasperation and understanding colored Alice’s voice. “That is a ten-week fetus with as healthy a heartbeat as I’ve ever seen, so I think we know why your cycle is out of whack.”

Caitlin closed her eyes, pulling in a series of deep breaths. Her OBGYN office had called, asking her if she wanted to come in early as they had a cancellation, and she’d jumped at the opportunity. She’d assumed her off-track cycle and fatigue were hormonal, and Alice was telling her she was pregnant. She truly hadn’t expected this, didn’t know what to do with this without Tick at her side . . .

“Do you want to look?” Alice’s gentle sympathy tugged at her.

On another sharp inhale, Caitlin turned her head. Head, spine, the beginnings of arms and legs.

“That’s the heartbeat.” Alice indicated the flickering light above the spine. “Fast and strong.”

The satisfaction in Alice’s pronouncement, being able to see that flickering, settled some of the anxiety. A fierce wave of wanting washed through Caitlin, taking her breath.

They’d discussed this, decided to try for another pregnancy, a third child. Still she hadn’t expected to want this as much as she did, but she was suddenly, desperately grateful to be carrying Tick’s child once more.

The amazing blend of terror and awe echoed peering off the side of a steep climb, seeing all the possibilities of the world spread out before her.

And the risk of falling. She sucked in a deep breath, forcing her lungs to work.

“Caitlin.” Alice covered her hand, warm even through the medical glove. “I know you’re stunned, a little fearful. The odds of another miscarriage are minuscule, especially so close to the end of the first trimester. Two weeks, and they’re even smaller.”

She nodded, still staring at the screen. Oh, she could not tell him this over the phone, and she couldn’t wait until Friday, either.

As soon as she got herself together, she was on the first flight to Middle-of-Nowhere, Georgia.

He refused to ask one of his brothers to take his photo wearing the darn golf pants. They’d want to know why, and he’d never live it down. And hell if he’d snap one of those mirror selfies in the clubhouse locker room. He loved her — but she’d have to wait and see the slacks in person.

Losing — again, as always — then having to listen to Gene and Chuck was bad enough.

Being on the green settled a sense of melancholy on him. He was the weakest player in the bunch, always had been. Del was more than decent, and Chuck made the game appear effortless.

Will had been the best of them. He’d shone on the green, making Chuck look clumsy and inelegant. He’d lorded the skill over Tick, and at the time, the bragging had set his teeth on edge. Now? He’d give a lot to have his brother here, telling him how much he sucked. Not knowing who Will would have grown into, not having the chance to make sense of the tension between them — that hurt, similar to how thinking about their lost unborn baby cut at him.

It killed him, everything he hadn’t done with his brother, everything he wouldn’t do with his child.

“You all right?” Del passed him a beer and took the chair next to him. The awning on the clubhouse patio provided shade, and the misting fans cut the heat a little.

“Yeah.” He watched silvery mist curl above the top of his bottle and lifted it for a slug. The affirmative struck him as a lie, when he was with the people he never had to lie to. “No.”

Chuck eyed him with his serene, wise gaze, waiting, and Gene looked up from tapping out a text on his phone.