Chapter 28
HARPER
Istood in Connor's kitchen making a grocery list, my pen tapped against the notepad in that absent way it did when I was trying to remember what we needed while my brain was occupied with approximately seventeen other things.
The morning sun streamed through the windows, and Chester lay at my feet hoping for dropped food that wasn't coming because I wasn't actually cooking anything.
“We're out of coffee,” Connor said from behind me, his arms sliding around my waist, his hands settling protectively over my still-flat stomach in a gesture that had become automatic in the four days since we'd seen our baby's heartbeat flickering on that ultrasound screen like a tiny miracle.
“And milk. And pretty much everything else because someone keeps forgetting to write things down when we run out.”
“Someone has been distracted,” I pointed out, leaning back against his chest and letting his warmth seep into me. “Someone saw an ultrasound and hasn't stopped thinking about it since. Also, someone is pregnant and therefore has pregnancy brain as an excuse.”
“Guilty.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, and I felt him smile against my skin.
“Can you blame me? We're having a baby, Harper. An actual, real baby with a heartbeat and everything.” The wonder in his voice hadn't faded even slightly.
If anything, it had grown stronger with each passing day, like he was discovering the miracle all over again every morning.
Connor had the ultrasound photos on his phone, in his wallet, probably tattooed on his body by now.
He started researching cribs and car seats with the obsessive focus he usually reserved for training horses after he measured the spare bedroom three times to figure out furniture placement, drawn diagrams, and started making lists of his own that were honestly more organized than mine.
It was adorable. Overwhelming.
“I was talking about me,” I said softly, covering his hands with mine where they rested on my stomach. “I still can't quite believe it's real. Like maybe I'll wake up and it was all some kind of elaborate fever dream brought on by bad Chinese food.”
“It's real.” His voice was firm, certain in a way I desperately needed. “In about seven months, we're going to be holding our baby. Our little January baby who's going to be born during the coldest month of the year because apparently we don't do anything the easy way.”
The timeline still felt impossible. Seven months seemed both forever away and terrifyingly soon, like time was moving at different speeds depending on when I looked at it.
Seven months to prepare for becoming parents.
Seven months to figure out how to keep a tiny human alive.
Seven months to learn everything we didn't know about babies, which was basically everything.
Seven months to make sure whoever had been threatening me was caught and locked away so our baby would be safe.
The reminder that danger still lurked even in these peaceful moments, even when we were standing in Connor's sun-drenched kitchen talking about grocery lists like normal people made my stomach clench with anxiety I tried to push away.
“Hey.” Connor felt the tension in my body immediately because apparently, we'd reached that couple stage where he could read my moods through osmosis. He turned me to face him with gentle hands. “Where'd you go just now?”
“Nowhere. Just thinking.” I forced a smile that probably didn't reach my eyes. “We really do need groceries. I can go this afternoon—”
“Not alone.” His voice was gentle but immovable, the voice that said this wasn't up for negotiation. “Harper, we talked about this. Until Davies catches whoever's responsible, you don't go anywhere alone. Not even to the mailbox.”
“I know. I was going to ask if Jaxon could come with me.” I gestured to the list like evidence.
“You have that meeting with the Hendersons about their horses this afternoon, and I'm going stir-crazy being stuck at the ranch.
Please, Connor. It's the middle of the day.
Main Street will be busy with tourists and locals. We'll be careful.”
He studied my face, and I could see the internal war playing out behind his eyes. His need to keep me safe—keep us safe—versus his understanding that I couldn't live in a cage of fear forever, that eventually I'd suffocate under the weight of constant vigilance.
Finally, he sighed in that way that meant he was giving in even though every instinct was screaming at him not to.
“Fine. But Jaxon stays with you the entire time.
You don't go anywhere without him. Not even to the bathroom.
You park close, you're in and out fast, and you call me the second you're done. Understood?”
“Understood.” I stood on tiptoes to kiss him, tasting coffee and the mint toothpaste he'd used this morning. “Thank you. I promise we'll be careful.”
“You better be.” His hands moved to my stomach again. “You're carrying precious cargo now. The most precious cargo in the history of cargo.”
Two hours later, I sat in the passenger seat of Jaxon's Jeep as we drove toward town, my grocery list clutched in one hand and my phone in the other like talismans against disaster.
The countryside rolled past the windows, green and alive with spring wildflowers dotting the roadside in purple and yellow clusters like someone had gone crazy with a paintbrush.
Beautiful. Wyoming in May was absolutely beautiful.
Jaxon drove with his usual casual competence, with one hand on the wheel, country music playing low on the radio. But I could see the way his eyes constantly scanned our surroundings, the alertness in his posture that never quite left him even in peaceful moments.
The former Marine, always assessing threats, always prepared for the worst-case scenario, probably planning exit strategies in his sleep.
“How you feeling?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “Any morning sickness yet?”
“Not really. I've been nauseous sometimes but nothing terrible.” I touched my stomach unconsciously. “Dr. Nysor said I'm lucky, some women have it much worse. Like can't-keep-anything-down-for-months worse, which sounds like actual hell.”
“Anna's already buying baby books,” Jaxon said with a grin that softened his usually guarded face.
“She's more excited about this than I think you and Connor are, which is saying something considering Connor won't shut up about it.
She's convinced it's going to be a girl and has already picked out about fifteen potential names.”
“She hasn't even asked if we want to know the gender,” I laughed, warmth flooding my chest at the thought of Anna's enthusiasm. “We might want to be surprised. Live dangerously. Not plan the nursery down to the last detail.”
“Trust me, Anna will want to know. She's already planning the nursery in her head.
I caught her looking at paint samples last night when she thought I wasn't paying attention.” His expression softened when he talked about her, that look of complete devotion that still seemed new on his usually controlled face.
“She's going to be the best aunt and spoil that kid absolutely rotten.”
“And you'll be the fun uncle who teaches them questionable skills like how to pick locks and hotwire cars.”
“Damn right. Every kid needs to know how to shoot, track, and survive in the wilderness.” He winked. “Plus, someone needs to balance out Connor's overprotective helicopter parenting that's definitely going to happen. That man's going to bubble-wrap that kid.”
“He's going to be so overprotective,” I agreed, warmth and exasperation mixing in my chest. “The baby won't be able to breathe without him worrying they're not getting enough oxygen or the wrong kind of oxygen or oxygen that's been contaminated by evil forces.”
“Can you blame him? After everything you've been through?” Jaxon's voice turned serious in that way that meant he was about to say something profound.
“He could’ve lost you, multiple times in multiple ways.
Now you're carrying his child. Harper, that man would wrap you both in bubble wrap and keep you in a padded room if he thought you'd let him.”
The reminder of the threats, the danger that still loomed like a storm cloud we couldn't quite see, dampened my mood slightly. But I pushed it away. Today was supposed to be normal. Just grocery shopping and enjoying the sunshine.
We pulled into town twenty minutes later, Main Street was busy with afternoon shoppers and tourists wearing expensive outdoor gear that screamed I'm on vacation and have disposable income.
Jaxon found a parking spot near the grocery store, close, just like Connor had insisted.
Probably closer than was strictly necessary, but whatever made the overprotective golden retriever happy.
The store was blessedly normal. The fluorescent lights were too bright, generic pop music played overhead, and had the familiar layout I'd memorized from years of shopping here. We grabbed a cart and started working through my list, Jaxon occasionally adding items Anna had texted him to pick up.
“How much milk does one household need?” he asked, staring at Anna's request for three gallons like it was written in a foreign language.
“She's probably baking for the official engagement party.” I grabbed decaf coffee, which felt like a cruel joke from the universe, and added it to the cart. “When is that, by the way?”
“Next month. June 18th. Anna's determined to celebrate properly now that she's got the ring back from being sized.” He grinned. “Fair warning, she's going to ask you to help plan it. Something about maid of honor duties that apparently come with the territory.”
“I'd be honored to help.” Planning parties and weddings felt like a gift after everything else.