Page 140 of Oathbreaker

“Figure what out,” I murmur.

“That you’re pregnant.” I go rigid in his arms and look away. I contemplate lying for a few seconds, denying the truth. But then he sighs and pulls me back into his body again.

He rocks me gently from side to side for a full minute before he steps back. My body automatically misses his warmth.

“Let’s order some food. I’m starving. What sounds good to you?” He strides over to the kitchen island and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Scrolling through the food ordering app, he says, “Italian, Asian, Indian, Mexican, American....”

At that exact moment, my stomach growls. “I want a quesadilla,” I blurt out. “With extra chicken and pico de gallo. Guac and sour cream on the side.”

I’m salivating. “Oh, and chips and salsa. Extra jalapeño.”

He smiles. “I’ll put a rush on it.”

“A lot of jalapeños. Like, double what they think is a lot.”

His eyes dance with amusement, twinkling in the overhead lights.

“Got it, baby,” he says with warmth diffusing his tone.

“Awesome,” I say to fill the space. The silence is heavy and awkward because I ignored his massive declaration.

He knows.

I know.

We know.

But neither of us are talking about it.

Hunter heads to the bathroom, and as soon as he’s out of eyesight, I sag onto the edge of the bed. Just say the words, Winter: I’m pregnant.

But if I say the words, that makes it real, and that makes the risks of everything surrounding our lives even more real. Sharper. There’s so much at stake. It’s one thing to keep myself safe, but to protect a baby?

I drop my head into my hands. I will not spiral.

The sound of running water startles me out of my thoughts, and then Hunter stands in front of me.

“Come, I got a bath ready for you.” He holds his hand out to me.

I take it.

Once we’re both in the bathroom, I allow him to strip me down. There’s nothing sexual about his movements until I’m completely naked, standing next to the nearly full, fragrant tub. Then he pulls me to him, my back to his front. His arms circle my stomach, and he rocks us from side to side with his head pressed to mine.

One hand goes to my breast—my heart. The other spans my lower stomach, right over my womb.

My breasts are so sensitive that the feeling of his warm palm against my nipples hurts, but I don’t stop him.

I just drop my head back against his chest.

We stand like that for a few more moments before he releases me, helping me into the tub. He turns off the water and says, “I’ll let you know when the food is here. For now, relax.”

And then he’s gone.

Left alone with my thoughts, I battle embarrassment at how I acted today.

Not only was it foolish, it was also dangerous. Stupid.

Don’t beat yourself up, I hear Genevieve say.

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