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She doesn’t open her eyes, but she lifts her hand and offers a sleepy thumbs-up. “It’s the Clooney comfort era. I approve.”

I grab the remote, press play, and sink deeper into the couch with her. The screen glows blue and gold in the corner of my eye, but I don’t watch it.

I watch her.

How she relaxes into me like we were made to do this together.

How she trusts me enough to rest.

How I don’t want to be anywhere else.

The weight of fatherhood and sleepless nights is still there—always will be. But so is this: this couch, this calm, this woman curled into my side like home.

Chapter Thirty-One

MYA

We’re halfway through a movie neither of us is really watching. Fletch is behind me, one arm looped around my waist, the other trailing slow, lazy circles over my thigh like he has all the time in the world to touch me. There’s an untouched bowl of popcorn on the table, a baby monitor blinking quietly on the couch arm, and that rare, impossible calm that only comes when the twins are sleeping and we remember how to breathe.

Then—

“REESE! STAY WITH ME, BABY!”

The scream shreds the air, sharp and raw and laced with something that makes my stomach plummet.

We’re on our feet in seconds. Fletch’s hand grabs mine as we bolt for the door, but even before we’re outside, I know.

Something’s wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

Thorin is sprinting toward his truck, carrying Reese like she weighs nothing—like she’s already slipping through his fingers. Her head lolls, and that’s when I see it.

Blood.

So much blood.

Down her legs. On Thorin’s shirt. Smearing her hands, her thighs, her clothes. The kind of blood that says something irreversible is happening. The kind that says too late even when you’re not sure what you’re late for.

My breath lodges in my throat. “Oh my God.”

Benji and Carson come flying around the corner of the barn, skidding to a halt when they see her.

“No,” Benji breathes, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“She didn’t tell anyone,” Carson says, stunned. “Reese—she was—she’s⁠—”

“Pregnant,” I finish, the word foreign in my mouth. A secret none of us knew. A baby none of us knew existed. And now⁠—

Thorin throws the truck door open and climbs inside, barking over his shoulder, “I’m taking her to the hospital. I think she’s—she’s having a miscarriage. She started bleeding and—fuck, she collapsed⁠—”

“We’ll get Eli,” Carson cuts in quickly, already turning toward the main house.

Benji nods. “We’ll meet you there. Just go.”

Fletch grips my waist, steadying me like he knows I’m about to drop. I turn toward him, panic lighting every nerve.

“I need to⁠—”