Chapter 12
Husband Mode Activated
I wake to sunlight filtering through the curtains and an insistent pressure in my bladder.
At least I managed to sleep through the night.
Lately, I’ve been getting up multiple times to use the bathroom.
It’s one of the first pregnancy symptoms to show up, and according to Wren, it’ll only get worse the farther along I get.
On the bright side, morning sickness hasn’t hit me yet. According to pregnancy TikTok and the subreddits I’ve been obsessively reading, it usually starts between five and eight weeks, so I’m secretly hoping I’m one of the lucky ones who skips it entirely since I’m past that window.
I shift to get out of bed and freeze when I realize I’m tucked against a warm, shirtless Heath. His dark hair is mussed from sleep, curls brushing his forehead. My leg is hooked over his hip, his arm wrapped securely around my waist.
His abs shift with every breath causing heat to ripple through me. I bite my lower lip and instinctively rock my core against the hard plane of his stomach. He stirs with a low groan but thankfully doesn’t wake up.
“Bad, Charlie,” I whisper to myself.
Sharing a bed with Heath last night without being affected was difficult after our wedding ceremony yesterday. It was mostly a blur, but one thing remains vividly clear in my memory: His mouth on mine as he claimed me as his bride.
“By the authority vested in me by the state of Montana, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Judge Clark says, his voice monotone.
I glance down at the ring Heath slipped on my finger moments before. The marquise-cut diamond sparkles with the aged beauty of an heirloom. Too bad it’s not actually vintage. Heath would never give me something with real sentimental value.
Judge Clark turns to him. “You may kiss the bride.”
I barely register Walker and Jensen whistling or Julie shushing them.
My focus is on Heath as he steps forward and tugs me closer. He wraps a strong arm around me, pulling me flush against his body. My hand darts to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. His breath comes out in short, shallow bursts as his gaze drops to my mouth.
I expect a quick, polite kiss—the kind that belongs to a marriage built on convenience and obligation.
Instead, he takes my hand in his and presses a soft kiss to my mouth, coaxing me to open.
I hesitate for half a second before parting my lips for him.
His tongue meets mine in slow, sinful strokes that leave my knees weak.
For a moment, the rest of the room fades away. It’s just him and me—two people who can barely tolerate each other most days, yet share a powerful, simmering attraction that sparked the night we spent together.
As his mouth devours mine like he’s been starving for me for months, I start to wonder if keeping my emotions out of this marriage will be harder than I expected.
I blink as the memory fades away, and I slowly slide out from under Heath’s arm, careful not to wake him.
Guilt twists in my chest for leaving him like this after the night we spent together.
That morning, I woke up naked in his bed, mortified that I’d given in to temptation and unwilling to stick around for his inevitable dismissal.
Yes, I was quick to judge, but there’s no handbook for hooking up with someone I swore I’d never hook up with.
My solution was to haul ass out of there and hope we could pretend it never happened.
Turns out the joke’s on me because now I’m wearing his ring and carrying his baby.
I just have to remember that I’m doing this to keep a roof over our heads and to afford insurance so I can stay healthy for the baby.
It’s a bonus that they’ll have both parents as a united front.
It’s far more than I ever had, and I would do anything to make sure they never experience the same kind of rejection.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand and notice it’s fully charged. Heath must have plugged it in for me. I almost never remember to do that before bed, especially not last night, when I was far too distracted by the shirtless cowboy in my bed.
The group chat is already buzzing with a surprising number of texts for how early it is.
Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat
Birdie: Did I dream that Heath & Charlie got married?
Briar: Nope. That was real.
Birdie: It feels like I blacked out and missed the plot twist of the century.
Wren: Try being across the country and decoding chaotic texts as it unfolded with zero context.
Briar: I’m sorry. I was relaying information in real time on our way to the courthouse and couldn’t multitask with Mama Julie asking us questions like she was cross-examining a witness.
Birdie: I was there. The woman should have her own courtroom drama.
In the end, I’m glad they were there for the ceremony. Regardless of why Heath and I went through with it, being surrounded by the people we love was nice. The only ones missing were Wren, Grams, and Florence.
I’m dreading telling Grams and Florence that not only did I get married without telling them but I’m also pregnant. Maybe I should bring Heath along. Grams has always had a weakness for handsome men with big biceps.
Charlie: Good morning, wedding crashers.
Birdie: Oh look, the other Mrs. Halstead has entered the chat.
Wren: Nice of you to join us.
Birdie: For the record, I haven’t forgiven you for trying to keep your wedding a secret.
Charlie: Didn’t you fake a whole ass relationship?
Birdie: Yep, and I ended up with a hot cowboy for a husband, so no regrets.
I look down at my ring finger as I type my response, reminded that I now have one of those too.
Charlie: Touché.
Briar: I’m begging you both to never mention “hot cowboys” and either of my brothers in the same breath again.
Wren: Safe to say I’m your favorite by default since I’m the only friend not hitched to a Halstead.
Briar: You said it, not me.
Charlie: I’ll remember that the next time you need a babysitter for Caleb.
Birdie: Ditto.
Briar: Charlie’s just using this as a distraction tactic to dodge our questions.
Charlie: Am not.
Briar: Then explain getting married to Heath and not telling us.
Charlie: I’m invoking my right to remain silent.
Briar: I rest my case.
Once I’m done in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen. My throat is parched, so I open the cupboard for a glass. But before I can pull one out, my body suddenly feels weighed down, as if gravity has doubled in an instant. I grip the counter and lower my head, taking a deep breath.
Shit.
I forgot to check my blood sugar before getting out of bed. Usually, I check my CGM first thing and can catch when my numbers are off before the sluggishness sets in, but I was too preoccupied this morning to look.
“Charlie, what’s wrong?”
Heath is at my side in an instant, pulling me against him. I rest my head against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of cedarwood and mint.
“I’m fine. I just forgot to check my blood sugar, and I’m pretty sure it’s high,” I say, my voice hoarse.
“Let’s get you seated so you can check.” Heath guides me to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair, helping me sit.
When I peek up at him, he’s watching me with a calm, steady gaze. “Tell me what you need.”
“My phone, please.” I point to where I left it on the counter.
He brings it over with a glass of water before sitting in the chair beside me.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
I open the app for my CGM. The reading is already waiting: 350. Definitely very high, but still manageable. I reach for the pump at my shorts’ waistband and enter the correction on autopilot. A soft vibration confirms the dose.
The kitchen falls quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the steady beat of my pulse in my ears. I let out a slow breath, reach for the glass of water, then take a long sip. The cold liquid soothes the dryness in my throat as I briefly close my eyes.
I’m aware of Heath’s presence, patiently waiting for me to get through the worst of it.
Usually, people who haven’t seen one of my blood sugar episodes assume it’s more serious than it is, but he stays cool and collected, which I appreciate.
It makes it easier to focus on getting my levels back in range instead of fielding frantic questions while reassuring him that I’m okay.
My eyes flutter open when Heath rests his hand on my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His skin is warm against mine, and the pressure in my chest eases a fraction. Since Grams moved out, I haven’t had anyone sit with me through moments like this, and I hate how comforting it is to have Heath here.
“You good, hellcat?”
“Mm-hmm.” I answer, sinking further into my chair. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back to raising hell here shortly.”
He gives me a genuine smile. “I’m counting on it, sweetheart.”
My breath catches. He’s called me sweetheart before, but usually, it’s when he’s trying to rile me up. This time, it lands softer, like a genuine term of endearment, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Before our night together, things between us were clear-cut.
We tolerated each other because I’m friends with his sister.
We crossed paths often and thoroughly enjoyed trading barbs whenever we did.
Now, things aren’t so straightforward anymore.
It’s like I’m learning a new language as I try to get a read on him.
“I hope I’m not overstepping,” he says as he taps his fingers against the table, “but would you be okay giving me access to your CGM app?”
I frown slightly. “Why would you want that?”
I bite back the automatic retort about him wanting a front-row seat to my struggles in real time or thinking I’m not responsible enough to handle it. He hasn’t done anything to deserve either accusation, so I keep my mouth shut.
“I just want to be aware of any spikes or drops in case you need my help.” He shifts his hand to my knee, grazing it lightly, and I find the gesture rather sweet. “You shouldn’t have to handle those by yourself.”