Chapter One Hundred Eighteen
Ruby
The Next Day
The windshield is still frosted when Dad pulls onto Main Street. Brookhaven looks the same as always. Chloe’s Bakery already has customers inside. Mr. Hart hangs Christmas lights above Hart Hardware while a group of older men supervises with coffee cups in hand.
Things are different, yet somehow the same.
Dad turns into Bella’s driveway and parks behind my car. I asked the girls to move it here before I realized that Xavier was staying at the house. Neither of us moves right away.
Dad squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to do this today.”
“Yes, I do.”
His jaw flexes. “Dizzy?”
“Not really.”
“Headaches?”
Seriously? I love the man, but I’m looking forward to getting away from his constant hovering. “Sometimes.”
“Nausea?”
I glare at him. “That’s not concussion-related anymore, and you know it.”
He mutters something suspiciously close to “Still counts.”
I laugh as I climb out.
A few minutes later, I’m following his truck toward my house, trying not to think about what waits there. Xavier.
Or more specifically, telling Xavier I’m pregnant.
I don't know which scares me more….that he won't want the baby, or that he'll immediately decide he has to stay with me because of it.
But he deserves to know.
Dad slows near the vet clinic. Dr. Carter stands outside one of the animal pens wearing a heavy coat and holding a clipboard. She spots him and waves.
He immediately pulls toward the curb.
Oh, this should be good.
I stop beside him and roll down my window.
“Wait a minute,” he says. “I need to ask Hannah something.”
“Hannah?”
His cheeks turn pink. “Dr. Carter. I need to set a date for vaccinations.”
“A date? Is that what we're calling it?”
“Ruby.”
Behind him, Hannah suddenly becomes very interested in her clipboard.
I grin. “Take all the time you need.”
Dad points at me. “You wait here.”
“It’s daytime. Nobody knows I’m back, and I'm only stopping at the house.”
“I'll be right behind you.”
“I’ll be fine.” That overprotective smothering look forms on his face again. “I promise. I'll call if anything feels off. And, if it does, I won’t get out until you get there.”
Finally, he nods.
As I pull away, I catch Hannah smiling at him while Dad rubs the back of his neck. The sight makes me smile.
A few minutes later, I turn onto my street alone. For the first time since the attack. My nerves tighten, but I keep driving. I'm not letting whoever did this chase me out of my own life.
Moments later, my house comes into view. No broken windows. No plastic over the glass. Just home.
The second I step out, Samson and Delilah start squealing like they haven't eaten in weeks. “Oh, my God.” I laugh as the piglets scramble through the straw. I count automatically. All there. All healthy. “You're all ridiculous.”
My shoulders loosen. Xavier did this. He took care of them when I couldn't.
I climb the porch and pause long enough to check the yard. Cameras positioned correctly. Nothing near the tree line. Nothing out of place.
Then I unlock the door. Fresh wood. Coffee. Clean laundry. And paint.
I stop in the middle of the kitchen. The finished kitchen. Cabinets installed. Counters spotless. Sink gleaming beneath the window. Even the floors are clean.
“He finished it.” My fingers trail across the countertop. I move through the house slowly. Trim repaired. Flooring finished. Fresh paint. Everywhere I look, there's evidence of Xavier.
When I reach the bedroom, something makes me stop. The closet door is cracked open. I pull it wider. Two of Xavier’s flannels hang beside my clothes.
My heart stutters. I open the dresser. Jeans. T-shirts. Socks. His things. Not tossed here because he stayed overnight. Not forgotten after one of the nights we spent together. Put away. Like he belongs here. Like he intends to keep belonging here.
My throat tightens. This isn't casual. It hasn't been casual for a long time.
“Xavier?” The name escapes before I can stop it. Silence answers.
Of course. He's probably at work. Still, when I look at his clothes again, something has changed.
For weeks, I've been terrified that telling Xavier about the baby will make him stay out of obligation. But he did this before he knew. He stayed.
My hand settles over my stomach. It's time to tell him. I turn too quickly and immediately wrinkle my nose. Okay. It may be time to tell him after the room stops moving. Apparently, our baby doesn't like spinning.
Or greasy hamburgers.