24. Evie
24
EVIE
“It’s a girl.” The ultrasound technician’s words echo in my dream, a moment frozen in time. I remember gripping the paper sheet, joy turning to dread as I watched Luca’s face transform.
He waited until we got home. Always careful about appearances in public. The first blow caught me off guard—open palm across my face, his wedding ring splitting my lip.
“Another fucking girl?” His voice dripped venom as I curled around my stomach, protecting our unborn daughter. “What good are you if you can’t even give me a son?”
The memory twists, nightmare logic taking over. I’m simultaneously pregnant with Violet and watching him hurt her after she’s born. His hands around my throat.
His fist in my hair. The way he’d squeeze her arm too tight when she cried, leaving finger-shaped bruises on baby skin.
“Please,” I beg, but I’m not sure which version of him I’m begging. “She’s yours.”
“Worthless.” He kicks me, careful to avoid my stomach. Always careful—wouldn’t want to damage his property. “Just like her mother.”
I jerk awake, gasping, sheets tangled around my legs. My hand automatically goes to my throat, then my stomach. The bed beside me is empty—the brothers didn’t spend the night last night.
The nausea hits fast. I barely make it to the bathroom before losing my dinner. As I kneel on the tile, the similarities become impossible to ignore.
Morning sickness that isn’t limited to mornings. Exhaustion that settles in my bones. The way certain smells at the gallery turn my stomach.
“No,” I whisper to my reflection. “Not now. Not when everything’s finally…”
But my body betrays me again, heaving until there’s nothing left. When I finally sit back, my hands are shaking.
I need to get to work. I need to pretend everything’s normal while my world tilts on its axis. One day at a time—I learned that running from Luca.
When I arrive, the gallery is already busy. Chase is setting up for his session with Skylar while the other brothers are busy with God knows what.
None of them notice anything wrong. I’ve gotten too good at hiding.
“Coffee?” Rick offers when I pass his door.
The mere thought makes my stomach roll. “Already had some,” I lie.
His eyes narrow slightly. I escape before he can question me further.
The morning crawls by. I organize files, handle bookings, and pretend I don’t notice how their touches linger. Each brush of skin reminds me of the possibility of something growing inside me.
Around noon, memories ambush me again.
“Look what Daddy brought you,” Past-Luca says in my mind, showing Daisy a new teddy bear. She was his favorite then—before Violet, before the disappointment of another daughter.
I blink back to the present. Chase is showing a client photo, his voice carrying across the gallery. It’s so different from Luca’s. It conveys real warmth instead of manipulation.
But fear still coils in my gut.
“Heading to lunch,” I tell whoever’s listening. Instead, I drive thirty minutes to a pharmacy in the next town.
The tests mock me from the shelf. I grab three different brands and add random items to seem casual. The cashier doesn’t look twice.
Home again, I stare at pink lines appearing one by one.
“Fuck.”
My phone buzzes. Rose is calling. Probably to check on me. I silence it, not ready for her questions.
The bathroom mirror shows a woman I barely recognize. Memories crash over me again, but I shake my head, trying my best to ignore them. The brothers aren’t Luca. They love our girls fiercely and unconditionally. Never once suggesting they need anything different.
Still, doubts creep in. Three men sharing one woman is complicated enough. Add a baby—a baby that could be any of theirs…
I splash water on my face, trying to pull myself together. The tests go into my purse—evidence I’m not ready to share.
Back at the gallery, I get back to work, but I don’t miss Chase’s eyes on me.
He’s been watching me since the other day. He probably already knows I’m hiding something. I just got lucky during our last time together. Made him forget his questions with pleasure.
Nothing ever gets past his eyes, but I’m determined to keep the little life in my stomach a secret until I’m ready.
“You okay?” Chase asks just as evening starts to approach.
“Tired,” I say. It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth. “Long week.”
He studies me too carefully. “If you need anything…”
“I know.” I kiss him quickly, escaping before he can ask more questions.
The day finally ends. I watch my men lock up.
“Dinner at ours?” Rick suggests. I don’t have a solid reason to decline. The girls are at Jamie’s for movie night. It’s beautiful to see how much we’re blending in.
At the same time, I should say no. I need time to process and to plan. Instead, I hear myself agree.
Their house smells like home. I help Zane with dinner while Chase sketches and Rick handles club calls.
So domestic. So perfect. So much to lose.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Zane observes, passing me vegetables to chop.
I force a smile. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
About the fact that I’m fucking pregnant, and it belongs to one of you.
“Nothing important.”
But later, watching them move around their kitchen, I can’t help comparing. Where Luca used family as a weapon, they make it a sanctuary. Where he demanded perfection, they celebrate chaos.
They love differently too—not just physically, though that’s part of it. They love with their whole hearts and their entire beings. They love our girls like they’re their own.
Like they’d love this baby.
The realization hits hard enough to steal my breath. Of course they would. These men who’ve given me everything—safety, family, belonging. Who have never asked for anything except honesty.
Something I’m failing at spectacularly right now.
“Evie?” Rick’s voice pulls me back. “You went somewhere.”
I meet his eyes, then Chase’s, then Zane’s. See worry in all their faces.
“I…” The words stick in my throat. Not yet. I’m not ready yet.
“Whatever it is,” Chase says softly, “we’re here.”
I lean into their strength, letting them hold me together while anxiety claws at my insides. Tomorrow, I’ll tell them—hopefully.
I tuck my girls into bed after I pick them up, kissing each forehead and making sure the nightlights are on. Only then do I let myself think about the tests hidden in my purse.
The brothers texted again about coming over, but I turned them down. I need this time to think, to plan, to figure out how to tell them without destroying everything we’ve built.
My phone buzzes with a message from Rick: “Miss you. Girls okay?”
I text back that they’re finally asleep and that tomorrow will be better. It’s not exactly a lie. Tomorrow, I’ll face the gallery, handle appointments, and pretend my world isn’t about to take a wild turn.
As I get ready for bed, nausea hits again. After I rinse my mouth, I study my reflection, searching for changes that aren’t visible yet. My hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. Somewhere inside, a new life grows—one that will complicate everything.
I crawl into bed alone, grateful for the space to process. If the brothers knew what I was going through, they would hold me through this fear. But first, I need to be sure. I need to protect my daughters from more upheaval. I need to believe this time will be different.