CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lennox
“B
e right back to get you, baby.” I lean down and press a slow kiss to the top of her head, letting it linger, soaking in her warmth. “Eat a couple more bites. I’m gonna go run your bath. And if you’re not in there by the time it’s ready…” I give her a playful look, “…I’ll come back and carry you myself.”
She lets out a soft hum, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “Mm… that sounds really nice. Are you going to join me, Lenn?”
Her voice is syrupy with affection and trust, and it tugs at something deep in my chest. I kiss her again, this time on the crown of her head. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t miss it.”
“I’ll go with you now.” She carefully shifts off Jaxton’s lap, her hand automatically cradling the underside of her belly like it’s second nature. My heart clenches at the sight. She’s radiant, even exhausted. And watching her carry our baby like this? It’s damn near spiritual.
As she stands, the rest of the guys murmur encouragements, teasing her gently and reminding her to take it easy. She gives them a little roll of her eyes, but I can tell she appreciates their attention. She always does, even when she pretends otherwise.
By the time we make it to the bathroom, I already have the water running. Steam is curling into the air, the scent of lavender and vanilla from the bath salts filling the room. I light a candle on the counter—not for romance, necessarily, but because I know it helps her relax. And she deserves that. Every minute of peace we can give her, she’s earned tenfold.
I help her out of her clothes slowly, carefully, like she’s breakable even though I know she’s anything but. She stands proud and glowing and strong—and I still handle her like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever held.
When she steps into the tub and sighs, the sound is everything. Relief, comfort, peace. I slip in behind her and pull her gently against my chest, one hand coming to rest over the curve of her belly. She sinks into me like we were made to fit just like this.
“You okay?” I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple.
“Better than okay,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “This is perfect.”
I pick up the sponge and start running it gently over her shoulders and arms, letting her lean into the rhythm of it. Her skin is soft beneath my fingers, warm and damp. I trail the sponge lower, over the swell of her belly, taking my time—partly because I want to savor every second, and partly because I know she needs this.
When I switch to using my hands, massaging gently at the base of her spine and the curve of her hips, she lets out a long, low groan of gratitude that sends heat curling through my chest. She’s always been vocal, and I love that about her. She doesn’t hide what she feels. And I’ll spend the rest of my life giving her reasons to make sounds like that.
“There?” I ask softly when her body melts under my fingers.
“Mmhmm… right there.”
We stay like that for a long time—her leaning back against me, the candlelight flickering over the water, steam rising around us like a soft shield from the rest of the world.
It’s quiet, intimate. Sacred.
And as I kiss the back of her head and whisper that I love her, I mean it with everything I am. Because this? Her, me, and the little heartbeat tucked safely beneath her skin? It’s everything. They’re everything.
Twenty minutes pass in quiet bliss. Avery rests in the tub between my legs, her back supported against my chest, while warm water laps around us both. Her breathing is soft and steady, her head gently tilted as she floats in a state of near-sleep. I run my fingers slowly over her arms, keeping her grounded, keeping her safe.
Kam steps quietly into the room, not wanting to startle her. His expression softens when he sees her. “Well, if that isn’t the picture of peace,” he says with a quiet chuckle, kneeling beside the tub to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “How’re you feeling, Sunshine?”
Avery hums, barely opening her eyes. “Like I could stay here forever…”
“Don’t tempt me,” Kam replies warmly. “You look good, baby. Relaxed.”
The moment is calm, content… until Kam’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, frowning slightly as he checks the screen. The subtle shift in his posture is enough to tell me it’s serious. His brows pinch together.
“It’s the detective,” he mutters, already rising to his feet. He takes a small step away, likely intending to leave the room and take the call privately, as we’ve all done lately—to protect her.
But Avery opens her eyes fully now, her gaze locked on Kam like a laser. “Don’t,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “Not this time.”
Kam hesitates. She doesn’t look angry—just resolved. Her eyes say everything: I deserve to know. She’s right.
With a slow nod, Kam steps closer and sets the phone gently on the edge of the tub. “Putting it on speaker,” he says, his voice steady as he taps the screen. “Detective Morgan, what’s going on?”
The detective clears his throat. “Still no sightings. No confirmed activity from Sarah yet, but... there was something unusual last night.”
The water shifts in gentle waves as Avery tenses in my arms. I respond immediately, tightening my hold and drawing her closer, anchoring her against my chest like a shield against whatever’s coming.
“What happened?” Kam prompts.
“There were fresh rose petals scattered across both Avery’s and her father’s front porches early this morning. No one on patrol saw anything, but based on the condition of the petals and our last patrols, we estimate it happened just before dawn.”
I feel Avery’s breath catch. She doesn’t speak, just stares at the phone with wide, focused eyes.
“We’ve increased the perimeter at both locations,” the detective continues. “And we’ll keep you informed the moment we get more. I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”
“Thanks for the update,” Kam says, voice tight.
The call ends, and the silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken fear and frustration. I press a kiss to Avery’s temple, my voice gentle. “We’re going to talk to your dad, let him know what’s going on. You don’t have to carry this alone.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “I don’t want secrets. Not anymore.”
“You’ve got our word, baby,” Kam says, and there’s steel behind it. “We’re in this with you. Every step.”
I help Avery sit up carefully and wrap a towel around her shoulders. “Let’s get dressed. Then we’ll go tell Dan.”
She leans back just enough to meet my eyes. There’s fear there, yes—but also strength. And love. So much love.
Before we know it, the five of us are gathered in Dan’s suite, the door closed behind us, the air thick with the weight of the detective’s update. Avery sits tucked safely between Jaxton and me on the couch, her fingers laced tightly with mine while Kam stands by the window, arms crossed and eyes on the hallway like he’s expecting someone to burst through the door. Liam’s on the other side of her, rubbing slow circles along her spine, while Dan leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, his expression caught somewhere between concern and rage.
“She didn’t just leave flowers,” Dan mutters, shaking his head. “She got that close again. That’s the part that makes my skin crawl.”
I squeeze Avery’s hand, hoping she can feel everything I’m trying to say without words. I’m here. You’re safe. No one’s ever going to touch you again.
“She’s playing a game,” Kam says finally, pushing off the wall and moving toward us. “She wants us rattled. She wants Avery rattled.”
“Well, it’s not going to work,” Avery says, her voice quiet but firm. Her spine straightens, her chin lifts. “We’re not going to hide forever. I’m not going to let her steal another day.”
Dan nods, a flicker of pride crossing his features. “That’s my girl.”
To ease the tension—and give all of us something else to focus on—we order lunch. Within the hour, we’re gathered around the small round dining table near the window, plates of burgers, fries, fresh salad, and enough sweet tea to drown in spread across the table. Kam couldn’t help but add a couple containers of fruit, “for the baby,” he claimed, even though he ate half the pineapple himself.
Avery’s got her feet propped up on Liam’s lap, a plate balanced on her growing belly, while Jaxton cuts her burger in half before she even thinks to ask. She grins up at him, and he winks back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Watching them—watching her —feels like some kind of balm. She’s still healing, but there’s light again in her eyes. Hope.
Dan tells a story about Avery’s childhood, something about a birthday party and a rogue pony, and she groans as she hides her face in my shoulder. We all laugh, even her, and for a few minutes, the fear fades.
“We should do this more often,” Liam says around a bite of fries. “Just… sit and be.”
Kam clinks his glass of tea against Dan’s. “Agreed. She’s got a village now.”
Dan nods. “She always did. But now it’s bigger. Stronger.”
And as Avery leans back, her head resting against my shoulder, and her eyes flutter closed with a soft smile on her lips, I realize something important.
This isn’t just a moment.
This is a memory we’ll hold onto.
A reminder that even in the midst of fear, there’s still room for laughter, love, and healing—and we’re going to give her all of it.
Avery lets out a yawn so big it could swallow the room whole, her hand flying up too late to hide it. She tries to blink the sleepiness away, but it’s no use—those pretty eyes are already getting heavy. I smile to myself, watching her fight it, like she doesn’t want to miss a single second of being surrounded by her people.
But we notice. We always notice.
Jaxton clocks it before she even finishes exhaling, setting his fork down and wiping his hands on a napkin. He leans over and gently brushes a knuckle along her cheek. “All right, Kitten,” he murmurs. “You’re fading fast. Let’s get you back to the room so you can crash.”
Avery gives a soft little hum of protest, but she doesn’t argue. Her head lolls toward his shoulder, her fingers tightening around the edge of her plate like she’s not ready to leave the moment behind.
“You’ve earned it, sweetheart,” Dan says warmly, pushing back from the table and rising to meet her. “Growing my grandbaby takes a lot of energy.”
She smiles, though it’s sleep-drenched and soft. “Love you, Dad.”
Dan wraps her in a careful hug, and the way he kisses her temple—like she’s still his little girl—makes something tighten in my chest. She’s loved. Fiercely. And we’re going to keep it that way.
Jaxton helps her up, steadying her as she groans and holds the underside of her belly. He chuckles, rubbing slow circles on her back. “Come on, Mama. Let’s get you horizontal.”
“Don’t let them eat all the leftovers,” she mumbles sleepily, pointing vaguely toward the kitchen. That earns a round of laughter from the table.
“We’ll guard the fridge with our lives,” Kam assures her.
She leans into each of us as Jaxton leads her around the table, offering quick goodnights and kisses on cheeks. She presses her lips to my forehead when I lean forward and grip her hand gently.
“Sleep tight, Bee,” I whisper.
She nods, eyes fluttering half-shut already, then lets Jaxton guide her to the door. He throws one last glance over his shoulder before they disappear into the hallway, mouthing a quiet got her like we don’t already know.