My left hand.
The one with the wedding ring.
The one missing a finger.
The one Maverick never lets me hide.
Slowly, I move it from Winter’s neck and rest it against my stomach.
It’s still early.
Too early for anyone else to know. Too early to show. But not too early for me to feel different.
Not sick exactly. Not tired exactly.
Just aware.
As if my body has been keeping a secret and finally decided to whisper it to my heart.
Across the arena, Maverick’s smile lingers for half a second.
Then it fades.
His gaze drops to my hand.
To my stomach.
Back to my face.
I see the exact moment he understands.
Thor slows beneath him as if even the horse feels the world change.
Maverick goes still.
Completely still.
The kind of still that comes before violence.
Or prayer.
This time, it’s neither.
This time, it’s wonder.
His hand tightens on the reins.
His chest rises once.
Then again.
And then Maverick Moretti, the most feared man I have ever known, throws his head back and lets out a cheer so loud it probably carries across every inch of Palm Springs.
Every worker in the sanctuary stops.
Sabrina drops the bucket.
Olivia spins around.
