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It’s positive.
I’m pregnant.
For a second, I just stare at it, overcome. Then I open the door and hold it out wordlessly, letting the three men see it.
Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them back, trying not to fall apart. But it’s almost impossible not to. My fate is written right there, in damning pink lines. I’m going to have Troy’s baby.
It takes several agonizing heartbeats before I’m able to look up at the guys, my stomach twisting with nerves. Part of me expects to see disgust on their faces, or anger. I’m carrying the child of one of their worst enemies, and I almost expect them to look at me like I’m tainted. I wouldn’t blame them. Ifeeltainted.
But instead, they all reach for me at nearly the same time. They step forward to surround me, and I’m pulled into the circle of their bodies and held close.
“It’s not his,” Ransom says softly. “Not in any way that counts. Troy is dead, so this isyourkid.”
“I wish I could kill him again,” Malice mutters. “And make it hurt even worse this time. But Ransom is right. We’re gonna love and protect you and any baby you have. No matter who the father is.”
A tiny sob escapes my lips, and I feel their arms tighten around me in response.
“But… why?” I ask, my voice shredded. “How can you promise that, knowing that Troy… knowing that the baby will be part his?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” Vic’s voice rumbles in my ear. “DNA isn’t what decides who a person will become. Our father was a piece of shit, remember? And none of us turned out like him.”
My tears soak Malice’s shirt. “I know. I just…”
“And look at you,” Ransom adds, stroking my hair again. “Your grandmother is the biggest fucking bitch in the whole state. And you’re nothing like her. That should be pretty good proof right there of how little someone’s family tree matters.”
“Your kid will decide who they want to be, no matter who their father is,” Malice says, his hands splaying over my back. “Troy is gone from this fucking earth, so he won’t be an influence.”
What they’re saying makes sense, logically. And I want to believe them, to cling to the conviction in their voices and let myself hope that everything could still be okay. But in this moment, it’s hard to imagine thatanythingthat’s a part of Troy Copeland could ever be good, even this baby.
More tears leak from my eyes, and I squeeze my lids shut as the men continue to hold me, murmuring soft, soothing words. Finally, as if he can sense the conflict still raging inside me, Ransom pulls back a little. The other men loosen their holds on me as well, and he rests two knuckles under my chin, catching my gaze.
“Do you remember what I told you on my bike that day, angel?” he asks quietly. “Right before Misty died?”
My heart stutters. Of course I remember. Every minute of that day is burned into my memory, including the part of it where Ransom took me for a ride on his motorcycle. That was the first time he ever made me come on his bike, revving the engine to help me get off… and in the aftermath, as we sat talking in the quiet stillness, he told me a secret he’d never told anyone else.
He doesn’t have the same mother as Malice and Vic.
His blue-green eyes are somber as he watches me now, taking in the look on my face as I process his words. I’m aware of his brothers watching us, confusion pinching Malice’s brows together, but I keep my focus on Ransom as I nod, the lump in my throat growing.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I remember.”
29
RANSOM
I hold Willow’s gaze,seeing all the emotions in her beautiful eyes. She knows what it means for me to be saying this out loud in front of my own brothers, but I want to prove a point to her. I need her to understand that just because Troy is the father of her kid, that doesn’t mean her child is going to be anything like him.
Blood only goes so far.
I know she probably already grasps that truth, deep down. But right now, she’s got all of this fear, anger, and anxiety eating at her. And this admission is the only way I can think of to remind her that family is what we make it, not what’s forced upon us by our DNA.
In all honesty, I never really thought about how I’d tell my brothers the truth about this. How, or if, I would reveal that I’m only their half-brother. I definitely wouldn’t have imagined it would be in a moment like this, but Willow needs to hear me say it.
Stepping back from the circle a bit, I take a deep breath.
Malice and Vic look between Willow and me, clearly understanding that something is going on here.
“What is it?” Vic asks. “What did you tell her?”
