Page 126 of Things We Burn

I’d slept almost twelve hours.

Never in my life had I slept in till almost noon, not even in my teenage years.

“Good morning to you too,” I murmured to the soccer player in my stomach, obviously making up for the sleepy day yesterday.

I quickly made my way to the bathroom, since that kick jabbed right in my full bladder. Once that was done, I splashed water on my face, squinting at my reflection. I expected to look like a fright after hours upon hours of crying, but aside from the redness around my eyes, I looked fine. Good actually. My face had color and my eyes were bright, a more vibrant green than they’d been in months. My messy hair looked shiny.

It wasn’t superficial, though; it was like a weight had been lifted off me. I didn’t understand when Kiera had told me a good cry was almost better than a facial for the skin and a $700 an hour therapist for the soul.

I got it now.

But it might not have been the cry. It was more than likely the man I could hear downstairs.

I froze as I heard the voice of someone else.

Voices.

I frowned, quickly brushing my teeth and throwing sweats on.

I probably should’ve put on something else, but it was my house, and I still felt half asleep. And panicked. What if it were Victoria? Here to say there had been a mistake, and they were locking Kane up again? My fear was a physical thing, clawing at my chest.

The journey down the stairs took longer and longer these days, and I winced at the pain in my hips as I descended.

Voices.

I definitely heard voices.

It wouldn’t be Kiera. She was in Bora Bora on some influencer trip. She was scheduled to come on my due date.

There was no one else who could’ve been in my house at eleven in the morning without an invitation.

When I walked into the kitchen, I blinked to make sure I was seeing straight. The woman in the kitchen was in her early 60s, her long hair fully gray and braided loosely. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt, a thick belt accentuating her hourglass figure. Her skin was lined from laughter, tanned from years tending to her garden. She looked ten years younger than she actually was.

A soft jangling sounded in the air when she moved her hands, coming from the many bracelets she always wore. A walking wind chime.

“Mom?” I rubbed sleep from my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

It was still a possibility that I was dreaming. That made more sense than my mother’s presence.

“What am Idoinghere?” she asked, her tone bordering on shrill. Or maybe any tone would seem shrill when I was shaking off sleep, battling the pain in my hips and trying to dislodge a baby’s leg from my ribs.

She put down the coffee that Kane had apparently made for her since he was standing in front of the coffee machine with a mug of his own.

I shot a scowl in his direction, making plans for his demise for not only letting my mother in but for making her a coffee and letting me walk down to her in the kitchen unaware.

Instead of responding to my scowl with a look of his own, he put his mug on the counter, strode over to me, grabbed me by the face and kissed me gently, his other hand rubbing my stomach. “Good morning, baby,” he murmured against my lips. His eyes darted down to my stomach. “Good morning, baby,” he repeated, still rubbing.

All thoughts of Kane’s demise flew away, and my body went all soft and melty.

My chest warmed at Kane’s ruggedly-handsome face, his easy smile and the soft way he spoke.

Yesterday had changed something. He’d changed. He’d come back to me. Mostly. I saw the remaining shadows in his gaze, he held himself just a little tenser than before, but he resembled himself more. He was changed, I reminded myself. Forever changed. We both were.

“Good morning,” I whispered as he tucked hair behind my ear.

“Should we run down to see if hell has frozen over?” my mother’s voice filtered through my haze.

I looked to her, trying to step away from Kane, but he merely tucked me into his body. I didn’t fight it because it felt nice, warm.

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