Page 31 of Unexpected Delivery

I get it—she’s doing the best she can.

It still eats me up inside.

My head shakes as soon as she walks in the front door. “No way. It’s not safe. You can’t stay out here with no car and a phone that only works sometimes.”

“Ever the tactful gentleman,” Hael says, chuckling. “But I have to admit, I agree with Morris. One bad storm, the electricity goes out, and then you’re really in deep shit.”

Hayes steps up behind the little omega. He has Gracie’s car seat held in one hand, and the smooth fucker slides the other around Arbor’s waist from behind. “I don’t want to scare you, but I just saw a mouse. You really don’t want the baby around mouse droppings. Why don’t you stay with us for a little while? Just until you get back on your feet.”

Arbor’s eyes widen. “I’m on my feet now.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Hayes smiles. “Grab what the two of you will need, and we can put it in the bed of the truck. If there’s more, Hael and I can make a second trip.”

I erase the few feet of space separating us and pull a hand up, tenderly brushing my fingers over her cheek. “Please? I’m not going to sleep a wink knowing you’re out here all by yourself with Gracie.”

“This is a bad time to ask, but do any of you have romantic partners?” She glances between the three of us. “If I was dating someone, and they had a random woman and her newborn move in…”

I like the sound of hermoving into our house a little too much, and a lazy smile crosses my face.

“I don’t know what that look means,” she says, jabbing a short finger at my stomach. She’s tiny compared to me, but I think that’s because I’m a giant and not because she’s short for a woman.

“It means,point to whatever you want us to load up.” I laugh as her look only gets more indignant. “No, you’ve got nothing to worry about with non-existent significant others popping up.”

Does she honestly think we wouldn’t have mentioned something like that over the last few days?

There’s a bassinet, a play yard, a portable mat for changing the baby, and not much else, but we get Arbor settled into the guest room downstairs. It doesn’t even have an attached bathroom, and I’m unreasonably pissed about that.

I love this house.

Normally.

My parents passed it on to me when they moved to Texas six years ago.

I lived alone for a while, but then I met Hael during an expo in Baltimore, and we hit it off. He moved up to the frozen North to be my roommate and eventually bought in on the shop.

Once Hayes got back to the US, he came to visit his twin and never left. And it’s been seamless, like we were always meant to be a pack.

I hate that there’s nowhere I can sleep downstairs that won’t be noticeable.

This house I’ve loved my entire life is officially on my last damn nerve. We don’t even have a couch because the twins carried it outside for trash pickup when they went to the shop yesterday.

Apparently it did end up stained from Gracie’s birth, but I would have recommended getting rid of it, anyway. I’m sure seeing it would have been traumatic for Arbor, but without it, the only place to sleep is one of the club chairs.

I’ve been up and down the stairs five or six times since we left Arbor and Gracie in their new room.

I initially hoped to run into Arbor in the kitchen or something, but she breastfeeds, so she doesn’t need to pop in to make bottles.

A huge part of me is content knowing they’re safe here in the house with us, but another piece relished the time we were trapped together in the hospital suite.

I want to refill her cup if she’s out of water and check on Gracie to make sure those gentle grunts are just her grumbling in her sleep. If she does wake up, I want to be the one to change her diaper so Arbor can get a few more minutes of precious sleep.

I’m bordering on full-blown stalker territory as I shove my ear to Arbor’s door. The bedside table lamp is on. I can see the light from under the door, but I don’t hear anything.

It has to be hard for her to be alone with no help. She’s still healing from some pretty significant tearing, based on what the doctor said and all the products the twins picked up.

Running my hand over my face, I mentally weigh my options. I could knock and risk waking them both up. Then again, I could peek inside to see if she’s awake, and if she is, I can hide it under the guise of checking whether she needs anything. Or I could haul my big ass back upstairs and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if they’re all right.

The door pops open as I’m busy arguing with myself, and Arbor’s red face greets mine.

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