This place has always felt like the center of my world, but now a piece is missing.
Janey is waiting, carrying a child who could change our lives for the better, and rather than being scared at the thought, a bubble of excitement rises in my chest.
We can do this. We can make her see that a life with us is what she needs.
At least, I hope we can.
Chapter 8
Janey
By the time I turn onto my street, I’m running on fumes. The day at the clinic dragged, with every hour feeling longer than the last. After two emergency callouts, a stubborn gelding that nearly took my shoulder out, and a client who thought Google qualified her to argue over treatment plans, I was beat. I’d held it together through all of it, because that’s what I do, but the second I pull up outside my house, the exhaustion settles into my bones like it’s been waiting all day to claim me.
I cut the engine and sit for a moment, hands still on the wheel, breathing deeply and letting the quiet wrap around me.
Then I notice them. Two broad figures sit on my front step, their boots planted wide, and their shoulders familiar in a way that hits me before my mind fully catches up.
I stop breathing at the sight of them.
Mason and Brookes.
For a second, nothing makes sense. Then everything does. Theyknow.
The realization cuts through the fog of exhaustion like a chef's knife through raw fish.
Joelle must have told them. A flicker of irritation sparks, but it doesn’t hold. She has loyalties to her men and their family as well as me, and a pregnancy isn’t an easy issue when it’s surprising enough to knock you sideways.
I wonder how long they’ve been sitting there waiting. I’m hours late from work, which never usually matters. My chest tightens at the sight of them looking all weatherworn, with big news on their minds.
Big news that they’re sure to have an opinion about.
I push open the car door and step out, relishing the cool evening air, even as my cheeks heat.
They both stand as I walk toward them.
I forgot how big and tall they are.
Mason takes a step forward first, like he always does, and Brookes follows more slowly, his gaze fixed on me in a soft way that makes me feel exposed.
Mason towers over me, easily six-four, his worn flannel sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms. His deep brown eyes settle on me, relief opening his expression in a way that tugs at my heart. Brookes is all solid strength and quiet intensity. Sun-bleached streaks lighten his brown hair, and his dark eyes hold mine with patience that makes my knees weak. His broad shoulders strain against his denim shirt. Together they’re breathtaking—two rugged cowboys who look like they belong to the land, more handsome than I even remembered.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, though I already knowthe answer.
Mason’s mouth opens, then closes again.
Brookes speaks instead. “We needed to see you.”
I stop a few feet away from them, crossing my arms like it might hold me together a little longer. “See me generally, or to talk about something specific.”
A beat of silence.
“Both,” Mason says finally.
“Joelle told you?”
Brookes shakes his head. “Wade. He overheard your conversation with his woman. He means no harm, Janey. He thought we ought to know so we can support you.”
That isn’t what I expected him to say, and suddenly my defenses fall. I’m tired. I haven’t slept properly since those two pink lines appeared. Certainly, too tired to hold onto anger when other emotions are pulling harder.
