Page 80 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

Holt knocks on the door, but I’m two seconds from barging in if Mason doesn’t answer fast enough. He doesn’t make us waitlong, though. Thank fuck. There’s a knowing look on his face as the door swings open, like he was expecting us. Before either of us can get a word out, he just steps aside and jerks his head toward the back.

“She’s out back.”

I damn near sag with relief.

She’s still here.

I don’t know how long I stand there, gripping the doorframe, but Holt nudges me forward. “C’mon,” he mutters.

We move through Mason’s toward the back door, and every second feels like an eternity. My heart’s pounding, my pulse hammering in my ears. Because now we have a new problem.

What if she doesn’t want to see us?

What if she really is leaving and it doesn’t matter what we say?

She’s on the back porch, bundled in a couple of blankets and enough winter clothes to survive an avalanche, sipping on tea. She looks so damn small, so tired, but still so fucking beautiful it hurts.

My throat tightens. But the sight of her makes me feel like I can finally breathe again.

Holt was right. This is her. Not the tabloid bullshit, not the version of her the internet thinks they know—this girl. The one who laughs with her whole body. The one who eats Oreos like they’re a delicacy, who cannot figure out that damn coffee machine no matter how many times we teach her. The one who lets us see her, really see her.

And we were about to let her walk away.

She glances up at the sound of the door creaking open, her eyes flicking between me and Holt. “Did Mason rat me out?” she asks, voice soft but edged with exhaustion.

“Didn’t have to,” Holt says. “We were gonna find you either way.”

She huffs out something that’s almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. She curls in on herself a little, fingers tightening around her mug. “Why?”

I step closer before I even realize I’m moving. “Because we’re not letting you go that easy.”

Her eyes flash, like she’s preparing to argue, but Holt beats her to it. “Ivy, you don’t have to go.”

She looks away, jaw tight. “I do.”

“No, you don’t,” I say, voice rough. “And if you don’t want to stay here, then we’ll go with you.”

That gets her attention. She blinks, brows furrowing. “What?”

I step closer, needing her to see how serious I am. “We’re not giving up. We’ll follow you anywhere. New York, L.A., Egypt, don’t care. You name it, we’ll go.”

Holt shrugs, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We can be anywhere, Ivy. I can fight fires anywhere. Wyatt can be a plumber anywhere.”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard. “But we can’t be without you.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. She just stares at us, eyes shining.

I take another step forward, crouching down beside her chair so she can’t look anywhere but at me. “I know you’re scared,” I murmur. “Hell, I’m scared too. But that doesn’t mean we just run.”

Holt kneels beside me, his hand brushing against hers where it rests on her lap. “We want this, Ivy. We want you. And the babies. No matter what.”

Her breath shudders out of her. “And what if—what if you regret it?”

I shake my head. “Not a chance.”

“But, I thought?—”

“We know who you are, CG,” Holt cuts her off. “We know who you are. We love who you are, and we want you, no matter what.”

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