Page 80 of Drifter’s Heart

“Annoying as all get out. He’s in the cleanup zone. Baby mode hasn’t reentered his head yet. You might need to give him permission for that. You know what he’s like.”

She nods and winces. “Yeah, I do.”

I grimace my sympathy. “Have you picked out a room for the little one? Because once you start, that will become his new hyperfocus project. Be ready. My brother has resources, drive, and an endless budget.”

Lanie groans and lowers herself to the sofa, which creaks under her weight. One hand goes to her belly, the other to her brow.

I pace in semicircles near her, letting my bags drop to the floor. “What do you need? Has anything happened? Is the baby okay? When are your next scans?”

Lanie holds out a hand. “Winnie, please. I need…”

I bounce on my toes. “Food? I can do food. Not warmed-up shit. That’s gross and very unhealthy.”

“Winnie,” Lanie croaks. “I need you to stop.” She pats the sofa seat beside her. It creaks again. “Come sit with me for a bit. That would be nice.”

My eyes narrow as I perch beside her, my feet tucked away beneath me. “Are you… lonely?”

Her nose twitches. A classic Lanie tell. “I miss my family,” she whispers. For the girl who claims she has no family, that’s a lot. A lot like West, actually.

Then the tears fall, and we’re hugging.

I pat her all over, like my daughter did earlier, just with a touch less caution since Lanie doesn’t seem to mind. “Baby seems okay. How have you been, here on your own?”

Lanie shrugs. “I received a few weird phone calls, and a massive migraine that won’t. Freaking. Quit. And I pee every hour or two, I swear. Other than that, I’m fine. How are you? How’s Cord? And West and Billy? And… and…” She frowns.

“Meds and baby brain must suck, huh?” The memory of brain fog—that fun little oxymoron—never goes away.

“I miss…” She frowns. “I miss being around everyone, but I can’t deal with the pressure of Cord right now. Or maybe that’s unfair, and it’s the event that was the pressure.” She grabs a pillow and throws it across the room. The cushion joins a pile that’s knee-high and rainbow-colored.

“Wow. That’s some therapy-grade frustration at your not-yet husband right there.” I place two more pillows in her hands. She smiles up at me through her tears as I rise. “I understand, though. He is my brother, after all. Tell me what you want me to cook and it’s yours. For as long as I’m home.”

“Really? I mean… I’ve been on a takeout thing. For the last three nights, I’ve eaten a ton of spring rolls,” Lanie confesses.

And I’m Kermit-colored by her metabolism in an instant.

“Not seeing it on you a bit,” I reassure her, patting my own hips. “Mind if I join you? I guess I’m getting soup. I’ll call a driver I know, ’kay?”

Lanie nods and slides sideways on the sofa, clutching the pillows I gave her. Red hair tumbles free of her messy bun, and her eyes are shut before I slip back out the front door to my townhouse to contact my takeout driver.

The driver who is conveniently still on the street, exactly where I expect him to be.

“Can you do a spring-roll-and-soup run for Lanie, pretty please?” I AirDrop an order to West’s phone. “Thanks.”

“Is that all?”

I send cash as well. “All done now.”

His hand shoots out to grip my waist, pulling me into him. “You know you don’t need to do that with me, Winnie. I meant what I said when I asked what else you needed. I’ll get groceries for you as well.”

My chest closes. The oxygen in the air is replaced by the scent of Montana mountain petrichor, every time he’s near. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” I squeak, pressing my hands to his chest in an attempt to disengage. Was he always this big? He was always this big. For whatever reason, West back in the city seems more humongous than ever, unreasonably so. “I can do my own shopping.”

“Your shift starts in seven hours,” he reminds me. “Sleep, Winnie.”

“It does? Wait, how do you know that?” Do I have a uniform washed? Shit, shit, shit. I don’t. I know I don’t. How’s that for no forward planning? Fail.

“Because when you AirDropped me your order, you also paired your calendar to mine. Thanks for that.” The corner of his mouth moves.

“Seriously? Was that a smile, another one?” I waggle my eyebrows at him.