Page 108 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

I stare at it in the firelight where I sit in Pops’ old leather chair, as if examining it longer might somehow change what’s on it or what it means for all of us.

With Pops, Camille, and Davey long since headed to bed, all I’m left with are my thoughts—and they aren’t good ones.

Any efforts to try to keep the welling panic at bay have failed.

I can’t help but feel like something is coming—something we won’t be able to win against.

Even what happened with Camille in the barn this afternoon hasn’t been enough to quell the tide of rising anxiety over what we could be facing.

She did her best to help ease my fears. Her strength should have bolstered mine, but all it did was make me realize that, if push comes to shove, she will be the first one to step into the line of danger to protectus.

And the thought of that happening has only made thingsworsein my head as darkness has descended both inside and out.

I take a sip of my beer and set the glass on the small table beside the chair, then return to analyzing the piece of paper that has changed everything.

How can Pops even sleep right now?

I’m too amped up, too worried about what might come through that door to ever be able to close my eyes, let alone let myself drift off. Not even having Camille in my bed will be enough to allow that tonight.

The stairs creak behind me, and I turn my head back, expecting to find Pops coming down for something or even Camille checking on why I haven’t come to bed. But a different set of sleepy blue eyes stares back at me from the base of the staircase.

Teddy bear clutched in one hand, his blanket in the other, Davey blinks slowly, like he’s trying to decide if he wants to be awake or go back to dreamland.

“What are you doing down here, buddy? You should be asleep.”

He shrugs slightly, hugging his stuffy closer. “Can’t sleep.”

No shit, kid.

I feel you on that.

Probably because he feels the energy and tension that has permeated the air all day, even though we’ve all tried to keep things light with him and have avoided discussing anything that might upset the almost-five-year-old.

I motion for him to come over and set the scrap of paper on the table beside my glass. “Come here.”

He pads across the wood floors on bare feet, then climbs up into my lap and settles there, snuggling close and pressing his cheek directly over my heart.

I wrap my arms around him, his tiny weight so much more welcome than the one I just had in my palm. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He shakes his head. “No. Where’s Mama?”

“Mama’s sleeping.” I run my hand up and down his back softly, trying to get him to calm enough to go back to bed. “She is very tired. We should let her sleep.”

He nods, shifting to get a better grip on his blanket.

I can’t imagine how exhausted she must be.

Not only from the physical toll her pregnancy is taking on her but also the emotional one of everything that’s been going on, of all the changes that have been happening and the revelations that are starting to paint a very dark picture.

All I can do is hope she’s as prepared to face it as she seems and that this little boy doesn’t suffer from the fallout.

I squeeze Davey tightly and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Are you scared about something?”

He shakes his head, snuggling even closer, like this is the only place in the world he wants to be in this moment.

And despite all the uncertainty swirling around us and permeating the air, it does feel pretty damn good to have him in my arms.

Right.

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