Page 39 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

I'm standing on the porch, and my hand rests on my stomach. It's rounded. Full. I'm pregnant.

The dream shifts, and I feel it, a flutter inside me. A kick. Life.

And behind me, three sets of hands rest on my belly. Three scents wrap around me. Three voices whisper the same word.

Ours.

Chapter seven

JD

I don't sleep.

Not a single minute. Not after carrying her back to the penthouse, not after settling her in the nest she built from our clothes, not after lying behind her for hours with her heartbeat thrumming against my forearm and her honey-vanilla scent finally, finally, settled and warm and safe.

She slept. Deeply, truly, the way she hasn't slept since she arrived. Her body curled against mine, her fingers wrapped around my wrist like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go. And I lay there in the dark, in the nest she built from our shirts, and I stared at the ceiling and didn't sleep.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw the bus stop.

Willow. Sitting on a metal bench at 3 AM. Duffel bag at her feet. Tears on her face. Wearing a shirt that smelled like us but walking away from us anyway. Small and alone and so goddamn brave it made my chest hurt.

She was going to leave.

Not a dramatic exit. Not a screaming fight. She was going to slip out into the night, catch a bus to nowhere, and disappear from our lives as quietly as she'd entered them. And if I hadn't woken up, if my Alpha instincts hadn't surged at the exact moment her scent disappeared from the penthouse, she'd be gone.

I would have woken up to an empty room. A folded shirt on the bed. Silence.

The thought makes me want to put my fist through the wall.

Instead, I lie still. I breathe. I focus on the weight of her body against mine, the curve of her spine pressed to my chest, the rise and fall of her ribs under my arm, the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt. She's here. She stayed. She came back.

But the fear doesn't leave. It sits in my chest like a stone, cold and heavy, and no amount of her warmth can dissolve it.

Because she almost didn't.

At 5:47 AM, she stirs. A small sound, half sigh, half whimper, and her fingers tighten on my wrist. I feel her body tense as she wakes, feel the moment consciousness floods back, and she remembers where she is.

"Shh." I press my mouth to her hair. "You're safe."

She exhales. Her grip on my wrist loosens. "JD?"

"I'm here."

"You stayed."

"I told you I would."

She rolls onto her back and looks up at me. In the gray pre-dawn light, her eyes are dark, brown, and gold and deep enough to drown in. Her hair is tangled, spread across the pillow like honey-colored silk. There's a crease on her cheek from the fabric.

*

She's beautiful. Devastatingly, achingly beautiful. And three hours ago, she was sitting at a bus stop ready to walk out of my life.

I can't stop the growl that rumbles through my chest.

Her eyes widen. "JD, "

"Don't." The word comes out harder than I intend. I force myself to soften. "Don't say anything yet. Just... let me look at you."