Chapter Ten
~ Danny ~
My stomach turned again as I walked down the hallway toward Carter’s office. The new farmhouse creaked and settled around me, but all I could focus on was the churning in my gut and the way my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
This wasn’t like the morning sickness I’d read about in health class—this was something that clawed at my insides and left me cold with sweat whenever I thought about what it might mean.
I paused outside his door, fist raised to knock, but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. What would I even say? Hey Carter, I think I’m knocked up, can you tell me if this is how it feels?
I’d never talked to anyone about this stuff before—not heat cycles, not hormones, nothing. And Carter was... well, Carter was Rawley’s brother, a trust fund baby, someone who’d grown up with everything I’d never had.
My palm was slick with sweat. I wiped it on my jeans and took a deep breath.
The morning sickness—if that’s what this was—had hit three times this week already.
The first time had been two weeks after that night with Burke, when everything had been perfect.
The second was yesterday, right in the middle of lunch.
And now, this morning, just thinking about it had me rushing to the bathroom.
I needed to tell someone. Burke first, I knew that. But I needed to know I wasn’t crazy first. I needed to hear from someone who’d been there.
So I knocked, three quick raps that sounded way too loud in the quiet hallway.
“Come in,” Carter called, voice muffled through the wood.
I pushed the door open and poked my head in. Carter’s office was nothing like I’d expected—no mahogany desk or leather chairs. Just a big wooden table covered in papers and a laptop with schematics on the screen. Afternoon light streamed through the window, catching the dust motes in the air.
Carter looked up from whatever he was working on, wire-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose. He pushed them up with one finger and smiled. “Hey, Danny. What’s up?”
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. My mouth went dry. “I, uh—“ I started, then stopped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” he said, closing the laptop with a soft click. “Just working on some security stuff for Rawley. Nothing that can’t wait.”
The word “security” sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. Tomorrow was Dennis’s bail hearing. The thought made my stomach flip again, but I forced it down.
“That’s actually why I’m here,” I said, then immediately regretted it. Not that, I thought. Not yet.
But Carter was already nodding, face serious. “If you’re worried about tomorrow, we’ve got it covered. Rawley’s got half the sheriff’s department on speed dial, and Macon’s been running drills with the dogs. Nobody’s getting on this property without us knowing about it.”
It should have been comforting, but all I could think about was how none of that would matter if Dennis got out and came after me. If what I suspected was true, I wouldn’t just be protecting myself anymore.
“Carter,” I said, my voice catching. “I think I’m pregnant.”
The words hung in the air between us. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the surprise or worse, the disgust. So I stared at my shoes instead, at the scuffed toes and the little hole starting near the left big toe.
“Oh, Danny,” Carter said, and there was something in his voice—not shock, not judgment. Understanding.
My head snapped up. Carter was watching me, eyes soft behind his glasses. He didn’t look surprised at all. If anything, he looked like he’d been expecting this.
“How did you know?” I asked.
He smiled, a little sad around the edges. “Because the same thing happened to me, about six weeks ago. With Macon.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re...?”
He nodded. “Twelve weeks along. This is baby number two. We just barely got done baking baby number one. Rawley doesn’t know yet, so keep it between us for now?”
I nodded, dumbfounded. Carter—polished, put-together Carter—was pregnant. With Macon’s baby. Again.
The world tilted sideways for a second.
“How did you...” I started, then stopped, not sure how to finish.
“Know?” Carter supplied. “Morning sickness was the first clue. Then the sensitivity to smells, and the...” He touched his chest lightly. “Tenderness. It hit me all at once, like being hit by a truck.”
My hand drifted to my stomach without me meaning it to. It was still flat—of course it was—but I couldn’t help wondering if there was really something in there. A tiny spark of Burke and me, mixed together into something new.
“I threw up three times this week,” I admitted, voice small. “And my chest hurts, and everything smells weird. Even Burke’s soap, which I used to love, makes me want to gag now.”
Carter nodded. “Yep. Sounds familiar.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
I sank into the chair, my legs suddenly weak. “What do I do?” The question came out more desperate than I meant it to.
Carter leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “First, you breathe. Then you get a test to be sure. Then you tell Burke, because he’s going to be ecstatic, trust me.”
“Is he?” I asked, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. “What if he’s not ready? What if he thinks it’s too soon, or—“
“He won’t,” Carter said firmly. “That man looks at you like you hung the moon. A baby would just be... extra moons, I guess?”
I laughed despite myself, the sound rusty. “I don’t know the first thing about being pregnant. Or being a parent. My mom wasn’t exactly winning awards.”
“Nobody does, at first,” Carter said. “But you figure it out. And you’re not alone—you’ve got Burke, and Jojo’s already planning your baby shower, whether you’re pregnant or not.”
My stomach dropped. “The bail hearing’s tomorrow,” I said. “What if Dennis gets out? What if he—“
“He won’t,” Carter cut in, voice steady. “And even if he does, you’re not going back there. Not ever. We’ve got plans, Danny. Good ones.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did. But the fear was still there, a cold knot in my chest that wouldn’t dissolve no matter how many deep breaths I took.
“What if I’m not ready?” I whispered.
Carter’s face softened. “Nobody’s ever ready, Danny. But you’ll do it anyway, because that’s what parents do. They figure it out as they go.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My hand was back on my stomach, a gesture I hadn’t even realized I was making. There was nothing to feel yet—no bump, no movement—but the possibility was there, growing with every second.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
Carter reached across the desk, his hand covering mine. “Me too,” he said. “Every day. But it gets better. I promise.”
For a long moment, we just sat there, hands linked across the desk. Outside, the ranch went about its business—dogs barking, tractors rumbling, life continuing its steady pace. But in here, everything had changed.
Or maybe it was just me who’d changed, finally ready to admit what I’d known, deep down, since that first wave of nausea hit.
I was having Burke’s baby.
And somehow, despite everything—Dennis, the hearing, the fear that wouldn’t quit—the thought made me smile.
Carter leaned back in his chair, studying me with those thoughtful gray eyes. The afternoon light caught in his hair, turning the brown strands almost copper at the edges.
For a second, he looked so much like Rawley it was almost funny—the same calculating look, the same way of holding himself perfectly still while his brain worked overtime.
But where Rawley would have already been barking orders and mobilizing the troops, Carter just reached for a notepad and started writing.
“Regardless of what happens at the hearing tomorrow,” he said, pen moving across the page in quick, efficient strokes, “we’re upgrading security around the house. Motion sensors, panic button, the works.”
My stomach flipped, but not from morning sickness this time. “You don’t have to—“
“Yes, we do,” Carter cut in, not looking up from his notes. “It’s not just about you anymore.” He paused, then added softly, “If you are pregnant.”
The word still made my head spin. Pregnant. Me. With Burke’s baby. It was like trying to picture myself on Mars—theoretically possible, but so far outside my experience I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around it.
Carter was still writing, his handwriting neat and precise despite the speed.
“Rawley’s already got cameras covering the main road and the north pasture.
Macon’s been working on a perimeter alarm system that would make Fort Knox look like a lemonade stand.
And Burke...” He smiled, a little privately.
“Burke would tear down the barn with his bare hands if he thought it would keep you safe.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. That sounded like Burke—all protective instinct and barely contained rage when it came to anything that threatened what was his. The thought should have been scary, but instead, it made something warm unfurl in my chest.
“How did you tell Macon?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “About the baby, I mean. Was he... was he happy?”
Carter set his pen down, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“He cried,” he said simply. “Big, ugly sobs, right there in the barn. Then he picked me up and spun me around so fast I thought we’d both fall over.
” He laughed at the memory. “It wasn’t elegant or planned.
I just blurted it out while we were feeding the goats.
But you know what? Sometimes the words themselves don’t matter as much as trusting in the person you’re telling them to. ”
The advice settled over me like a blanket, warm and heavy with truth. I’d spent so long keeping secrets, guarding every word, that the idea of just... saying it, without worrying about how it would land or what would happen next—that was terrifying. But also, somehow, freeing.