Page 66 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

“This might feel cold,” she says, her voice calm, as she squirts a greenish-looking gel onto my abdomen. Then she’s pressing the wand to my belly. “Just relax. This will only take a minute.”

A minute feels like an eternity. The room is silent except for the soft whirr of the ultrasound machine. And then—the whirr changes. A new sound crackles through the machine, faint at first, almost distorted, like a radio struggling to find a signal.

The doctor adjusts the wand, tilting her head slightly as she focuses on the screen. And then, clear as day, I hear it.

A rapid, fluttering thump-thump-thump.

I suck in a breath, my entire body going still. The sound fills the room, impossibly fast, impossibly real. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, but it’s not mine I’m hearing. It’s theirs.

“There it is,” the doctor says softly, her gaze shifting to meet mine. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

My throat closes. My vision blurs. I can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything but listen as my entire world shifts beneath me.

It’s real. It’s happening.

I’m staring at the screen in shock, my mind struggling to catch up with what my eyes are seeing. This changes everything. This changes me.

I press a trembling hand to my belly, swallowing against the knot forming in my throat. “That’s…that’s really it?”

The doctor nods, a small, knowing smile on her lips. “That’s really it.”

A tear slips free, rolling hot down my temple. I don’t know if I’m crying from relief, fear, or something else entirely. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it.

I'm pregnant.

Chapter 31

Wyatt

Iturn the corner to head back toward main street, when I see Ivy coming out of Doc Banner’s office. I know she’s been feeling off lately, so a trip to the doctor makes sense. Not sure why she didn’t mention it, though. One of us could have gone with her, kept her company.

My steps falter when I get a better look at her. Ivy looks like she just walked out of a horror movie. Not the kind where people are running from a masked psycho, but the kind where someone sees some messed-up supernatural shit and can’t even process it. She’s pale—like, about-to-pass-out pale—and there’s this wild look in her eyes that sets off every internal alarm I have.

My feet are faster than my brain, and I’m moving before I can even make the decision. I step in front of her, a hand on her elbow to slow her down.

“Hey, City Girl. You good?”

She doesn’t even slow down, just tries to breeze right past me like I’m not standing in her way.

“I’ll wait in the truck,” she mutters. “Or the coffee shop. Whatever. I just—” Her voice wobbles, and she shakes her head like she’s trying to physically fling whatever’s in her brain right out of her skull. “I’ll be fine. Just—just finish up here.”

Yeah, no. That’s not happening.

I fall into step beside her. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or, like, got diagnosed with something terminal, which—please tell me that’s not it.”

She keeps walking. Faster now, like she’s hoping I’ll take the hint.

I don’t.

“Hey!” I call again, but she doesn’t even turn around. “Ivy! Slow down!”

She keeps walking, her ponytail swinging like she’s on a mission to get as far away from me as possible. I’m losing ground, so I do the only thing that makes sense: I grab her arm.

“Ivy, just talk to me?—”

Something flutters to the ground between us. A piece of paper or a picture.

I bend down, scooping it up before the wind can carry it away, and holy shit.

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