Page 7 of Saving Their Forever

“What if they need me to go on mission again?” I whisper. “I was lucky when we had to rescue Hope. But that was mostly Ry’s doing. Next time, I might not be able to stay in the van.”

Cara pulls back enough to hold my gaze. “Then you’ll get out of the van. And you’ll protect your brothers and sisters—and whoever you’re there to rescue—because that’s who you are.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Wren

“No. The last time you came with me, the poor ladies at the salon were so scared, Daria dropped her grandmother’s teapot and it shattered into a million pieces.”

Ry’s shoulders jerk halfway up to his ears for a brief moment before he mutters, “I tried to buy her a new one.”

I roll my eyes. “You know that’s not the same thing.” I push up the sleeve of the tent-of-the-day—aka the only maternity clothes I can wear at almost forty weeks—and run my fingers over the fluorite beads around my wrist. “Would you buy me an exact replica of my bracelet if it broke?”

He sighs, conceding my point. “No. But I don’t like the idea of you going alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Evianna and Cara will be with me the whole time. It’s only three blocks away. I’m pregnant. Not a ticking time bomb.”

His jaw hardens, and a vein at his temple throbs. “That’s exactly what you are.” He drops to his knees in front of me, framing my belly with his hands. “Your due date is in two days. You could go into labor any time.”

“Even if I do, you’ll be able to reach me, soldier.” I cup his cheek. “You can always reach me.”

* * *

Evianna wiggles her bright red toes as she stretches in the massage chair. “God, I needed this. I hired a new CTO for Beacon Hill Technologies last month. Once she’s fully up to speed, she’ll be able to take a lot of work off my plate. But until then…I’m doing my job and part of hers.”

“I wish we’d had time to book massages,” Cara says and closes her eyes. “I made two hundred Pop Tarts after the breakfast rush this morning, and my shoulders are killing me.”

I take a sip of herbal tea and admire my glittering purple nails. “I’ve only had a massage once in my life. It…didn’t go well.”

“How does a massage not ‘go well’?” Evianna asks.

My cheeks flush. “I had a panic attack on the table.”

“Why? Did something trigger you?” She presses a button on the chair remote to turn the vibrations down and drains the last of her sparkling wine.

Though the three of us are close—almost as close as sisters now—I don’t talk about my panic disorder very often. I shrug. “Nothing I know of. There isn’t always a reason though. Mani-pedis are about all the pampering I can handle.”

On the other side of me, Cara stifles another squeal. Apparently, she’s ticklish, and the poor young woman painting her toes barely managed to escape a kick to the chin when she tried to scrub Cara’s instep.

Cara runs a hand through her dark locks. “I love you, Wren, but this is my first and last pedicure.”

“I know I’m one to talk,” Evianna says, “but the two of you really need to learn how to relax.”

I almost choke on my tea. “Says the woman who worked all morning and has been answering texts every twenty minutes.”

“Only two of those were from work. The other two…well, the Five Points remodeled last month. The furniture isn’t the same, and the whole place is a mess. Dax is having a hard time. Apparently housekeeping left the chair pulled out and moved everything on the bathroom counter.” She shows us her phone—and the photo of their toiletries shoved into a corner behind the sink.

Despite working with Dax for years, I never stopped to think how hard it must be for him to travel. Yes, he’s blind. But he navigates the world better than half the sighted people I know. Better than me most days.

Her phone buzzes again, and after a few seconds, her cheeks are almost as red as her nails.

“Evianna?” Cara asks. “Oh, my God. Is Dax…sexting you?”

“I can’t think about Dax sexting. He’s my boss!” I avert my eyes, pinning my gaze to one of the ceiling tiles as Evianna types out a quick response.

“Well, I could tell you what happened after the baby shower last night,” she says.

“Nope. Unless it involved being able to see your feet, tie your shoes, or go more than twenty minutes without peeing. Those are the only fantasies I’m interested in right now.”

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