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I rolled my eyes and huffed out a breath. “I’ve been lying next to her because she doesn’t want to be alone.” I pushed my hands through my hair. “She killed someone, Lola. She shot him when he was inches from her face. Of course she’s going to have nightmares. You more than anyone should know that.”
Lola’s face drained of color, and she placed her hands over her chest. “I…I didn’t know it went down like that.”
Brody’s nostrils flared. “I wanted to spare you the details, darlin’.”
She made a noise in the back of her throat and moved past him. “You have some explaining to do, Brody.” She stopped a couple of feet in front of me. “And you—make sure you’re at the house on Thursday for Thanksgiving. Twelve sharp.” She took a step and then turned back to me. “I’m only forgiving you because you make the best pumpkin pie. Just so you’re aware.”
I gave her a salute. “I’ll make extra this year.”
“Don’t try and sweet-talk me, Ford.” I could see from the way her shoulders were relaxed and how her body turned toward me that she wasn’t as mad anymore. I had more to prove to them, but it would take time.
“So, you don’t want me to make extra, then?” I asked.
“I never said that.” She shook her head and gave me a small smile. “See you Thursday.” And with that, she left the house with Brody not far behind her. He halted in front of me, placed his hand out, and I shook it. And I knew then that there was no bad blood.
“Well…” Cade let out a breath. “That went better than I expected.”
“Yep.” Aria threw herself down onto the sofa. “And we all get pumpkin pie this year. Thank the lord.”
“Amen,” Cade responded.
* * *
BELLE
The house was bustling with activity, but I couldn’t find any energy to move off my bed. I’d been staring at the same spot for the last half an hour while holding my stomach. I’d woken up at six this morning thanks to another Braxton-Hicks, but hadn’t had one since. I feared they’d come more and more often now that I was only a couple of weeks away from my due date, and I gritted my teeth at the thought.
I rolled over and stared at a new spot on the back of my door, looking at all the jackets which hung off the hooks that I couldn’t get over my stomach. My wardrobe options had been severely lowered.
“Knock, knock.” The door opened, and Cade’s grinning face appeared. “Hey, PB.”
“You know saying knock, knock doesn’t actually count,” I told him, rolling my eyes without wincing. My face was clear of bruises now, and so was my stomach, but the ones around my throat were still lingering.
“Course it does.” He pushed my bedroom door open farther. “You getting up anytime today? It’s nearly twelve.”
I groaned and rolled over, pulling my covers over my head. “I don’t want to get out of bed.”
The bed dipped. “You don’t have a choice, PB. It’s Thanksgiving.” He paused. “I also hear there’ll be pumpkin pie too.”
I threw my covers off. “What?” Pumpkin pie was my favorite, but it wasn’t just that. It was tradition for Ford to make the pie and bring it here, which meant—
“Ford’s coming?”
“Yep.” Cade brushed off his shoulders, looking mighty proud of himself. “Your big brother made the rents see sense.” I snorted at his lingo. “So up you get.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Go shower and get ready. We have a feast to eat.”
I placed my hand in his and let him pull me up. The huge bowling ball-shaped size of my stomach made it harder than it used to be, but finally, I got to my feet and headed across the hallway to the bathroom. I hadn’t seen Ford in a few days, not since he picked Lottie up on Monday after she spent the day with me. He’d texted and asked if I was okay. Thanks to my dad, I had my old cell back, although I had a new number, one that only a handful of people knew.
Turning on the water, I stripped out of my pajamas and headed right under the hot spray. I washed my hair and my body, and it wasn’t until I switched the water off and went to step out of the shower that pain shot across my stomach again. It tensed so much I thought I was going to break in half. My breath caught in my throat, and my back collided with the tiles. But as fast as it was there, it was gone again. It couldn’t have lasted longer than fifteen seconds.
Sweat had beaded on my forehead, and I felt like I needed to take another shower, but hearing the front door open and close had me stepping out onto the mat. It was just another Braxton-Hicks, and if it was anything like this morning, I might not have one for another few hours, if at all.
I wrapped a towel around my body, brushed my teeth and hair, and then headed back into my bedroom. The only thing I had to wear was another one of Asher’s T-shirts, so I plucked one off the top of the pile he’d given me and read the writing on the front. I hadn’t realized the number of band T-shirts Asher owned until it was basically all I wore.
I pulled on a pair of leggings and then a pair of bright-pink fluffy socks because my toes were freezing, and declared myself ready for Thanksgiving dinner. I forewent taking a final look at myself because I knew my face was all puffy and I had dark circles under my eyes.
My feet slid along the wood floor as I moved toward the stairs, and once I got to the top, my stomach tensed again. I couldn’t catch my breath from the agony rolling through me. My head spun, and my eyes widened as I started to lose balance, so I backed away from the top step, scared I’d fall down the stairs.
I could hear everyone talking downstairs, getting louder and louder as time went on, but I was frozen, not able to move as the baby kicked me several times in response to the pain. Could the baby feel it too?
