31. Evie
31
EVIE
The doctor’s office in Cedar Rapids is two hours away from Wolf Pike. It’s far enough that no one will recognize me, but close enough that I can make it back before school pickup. I give them the name Elena Thompson and pay cash.
“First baby?” the receptionist asks cheerfully.
“Third.” My hand drifts to my stomach. “But it’s been a while.”
The waiting room fills me with memories. Bad ones—how Luca had silently fumed at the fact that I was going to have another girl child.
“Thompson?” a nurse calls. “The doctor will see you now.”
I follow her through sterile corridors, answering the usual questions. Last period? Around eight weeks ago. Morning sickness? Constant. Previous pregnancies? Two healthy deliveries.
“The doctor will be right in,” she says, leaving me in a room with posters about fetal development.
I do the math again, though I’ve calculated it a hundred times. That night, during the storm, when everything changed. When three men became one in loving me.
The door opens. Dr. Williams is older and kind-faced.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?”
The ultrasound gel is cold on my skin. I hold my breath as she moves the wand, searching.
Then—a heartbeat fills the room. Fast, strong, unmistakable.
“There we are.” She points to the screen. “Measuring right at eight weeks. Everything looks perfect.”
Perfect. Tears blur my vision as I stare at the tiny form. My baby.
“Would you like a photo?”
I nod, unable to speak. She prints several, pointing out features. Head, spine, and limbs.
“Any questions?” she asks gently.
A thousand. Who’s the father? How do I tell three men they might have created this life? How do I keep it safe when Luca’s getting closer?
“No,” I manage. “Everything’s fine.”
She gives me pamphlets about prenatal care, prescribes vitamins, and schedules another appointment I won’t keep.
In my car, I study the ultrasound photo. Eight weeks. About a month of morning sickness, and a growing fear of the brothers noticing changes but not connecting the dots.
My phone buzzes with texts from Rose. After yesterday’s argument about the men in suits, I should ignore it.
Instead, I text: “We need to talk. Coffee?”
Her response is immediate: “Usual place. One hour.”
I drive to the small café in the middle of town. Neutral ground. The ultrasound photo burns in my purse.
Rose is already there when I arrive, with two cups waiting. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks.” I settle across from her, noting her tension. “Rough morning.”
“Aren’t they all lately?” She pushes coffee toward me. “What couldn’t wait?”
I stare at the cup, suddenly nauseous again. “I can’t drink that.”
“Since when do you—” She stops, studying my face. “No.”
“Eight weeks.” My voice shakes slightly. “Found out today—well, found out how far along it is today.”
“Evie.” She sets her cup down carefully. “Tell me you’re not serious.”
“Surprise!” I attempt humor, but her expression doesn’t change.
“This wasn’t part of the protocol.” The words come sharp, angry. Then she catches herself. “The plan. This ruins everything we’ve worked for.”
Ice forms in my gut. “What protocol?”
“Nothing.” She stands abruptly. “How could you fucking let this happen? You’ve ruined everything! Just…this complicates things.”
“What things?” I grab her arm. “Rose, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Timelines,” she mutters, pulling away. “Everything’s compromised now.”
“What’s compromised?” But she’s already moving toward the door. “Rose!”
She pauses, not looking back. “Handle it. Before it’s too late.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me with cold, colder fear.
What protocol? What plan? Why does my pregnancy seem to terrify my closest friend even more than Luca’s men finding us?
The baby shifts—just my imagination at eight weeks, but I swear I feel something flutter.
My phone buzzes. Chase is checking where I am. I should head back.
Instead, I pull out the ultrasound photo again. Study the tiny form that’s half me, half…someone I love. Someone who loves me.
All three of them love me. Love my girls. Would love this baby.
So why does Rose’s reaction feel like a warning?
I order tea, needing time to think. Around me, normal life continues—people getting coffee, checking phones, and living without secrets.
The café door opens. For a moment, I expect Rose returning with explanations. Instead, a young mother struggles with a baby carrier.
Watching her, I remember Violet’s birth. Luca’s pride turning to rage when she wasn’t a boy. His careful abuse afterward, never marking where it would show.
This baby will be different. Will have three fathers who love regardless of gender. Who protect rather than harm.
Won’t it?
My hand drifts to my stomach again. Under my palm, that tiny heartbeat echoes in memory. Strong. Steady. Real.
It’s time to start telling the truth.
I just hope I survive the fallout.
Surprisingly, I catch up with Rose in the parking lot. I run after her and grab her arm before she can reach her car. “What protocol?”
She yanks away.
“Go home, Evie.” Her voice comes out cold. “Take care of your girls.”
“Not until you explain.” I move between her and the car. “What plan? What timelines?”
“You don’t want to do this here.” Her eyes scan the parking lot.
“Then let’s go somewhere else.” I hold up my ultrasound photo. “Because I’m not letting this go. Not after everything.”
For a moment, I think she’ll refuse. Then, her shoulders slump slightly. “Fine. Follow me.”
We drive to an abandoned warehouse lot outside town. The kind of place Rose always seems to know about. The kind of place with no witnesses.
When we get out of our cars, she says, “Eight weeks. Are you sure?”
“Doctor confirmed it this morning.” I touch my stomach unconsciously. “Why does the timing matter?”
“Because it wasn’t supposed to happen this fast.” She rubs her temples. “You were supposed to establish roots first. Build trust slowly. Not…this.”
Ice forms in my gut. “What are you talking about?”
“The brothers.” Her laugh holds no humor. “Three potential fathers. Do you have any idea how complicated this makes things?”
“Complicated for who?” The ice spreads. “Rose…who are you really?”
She turns finally, and I don’t recognize the woman looking back at me. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is damage control.”
“Damage control?” My voice rises. “I’m pregnant, not compromised!”
“You don’t understand.” She checks her mirrors compulsively. “This changes everything. The timeline, the extraction plan?—”
“Extraction?” The word hits like a punch. “What extraction? Rose—” I grab her arm again. “What the hell is going on?”
She stills completely. When she meets my eyes, there’s something like regret there.
“I was supposed to protect you,” she says softly. “I was supposed to keep you safe until everything was in place. But you had to go and fall in love.”
“With three amazing men who love me back.” My hand covers my stomach protectively. “Who love my girls.”
“That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“What plan?” I practically shout it. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She checks her phone, jaw tight. “You need to get back. The brothers will notice you’re gone.”
“Not until you explain.”
“I can’t.” She goes to open her car. “Just…be careful. Watch the girls. And Evie?”
“What?”
“Don’t tell them about the baby. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
But she’s already pulling away, leaving me with more questions than answers.
I sit in my car for a long time, replaying every interaction with Rose since we met. Her appearance when I needed help running. Her extensive knowledge of safe houses and escape routes. The way she always seems to know when trouble’s coming.
My phone buzzes. Chase is checking on me again. I should really go home.
Instead, I pull out the ultrasound photo yet again. Study the tiny life that’s apparently ruined some grand plan I knew nothing about.
The drive home gives me too much time to think—about protocols and plans, my supposed best friend’s strange behavior, and all the things that don’t add up.
But one thing’s certain—this baby exists. In seven months, my daughters will have a sibling, and three men will have a child.
And Rose…Rose will have to explain what game she’s really playing.
The gallery’s busy when I arrive. Chase is with a client, and Zane isn’t around. Rick looks up from the paperwork, concern crossing his face.
“You okay?”
“I am.” The lie comes automatically.
But my hand drifts to my stomach, to the secret growing there. To all the secrets threatening to explode.
“Mama!” Violet spots me from her homework corner. “Uncle Chase said we can get ice cream after school tomorrow!”
I force a smile, gathering her close. Breathe in her innocent scent.
What game is Rose playing with my children’s lives?
“Of course we can, baby.” I smooth her hair. “Whatever you want.”
Chase catches my eye across the room. I look away before he can read the truth in my face.
Seven months until this baby arrives.