Page 97 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

“Ivy,” I say, my voice rough, “please.”

She sighs, turning away from the fridge. “What, Hank?”

I don’t even know how to start, how to say everything I need to. Sorry doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing does. But I have to try.

“I was wrong,” I tell her, forcing the words out. I gesture vaguely toward the sonogram, toward her. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Her expression doesn’t change, doesn’t give me anything to hold on to. “You did, though.”

“I know.” Guilt sits heavy in my chest. “And I hate myself for it.”

She crosses her arms, and that hurt I thought I saw earlier? It’s not hidden now. It’s right there in the way she won’t quite look at me.

“I needed you, Hank,” she says quietly, “and you made me feel like a mistake.”

I flinch. “You’re not.” My voice comes out raw. “I swear, Ivy, you’re not.”

She shakes her head, stepping back. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Ivy—”

“No,” she cuts me off. “You don’t just get to decide you’re ready now. I’m not.”

She disappears down the hall, and I’m left standing there, feeling like someone just ripped my insides out.

A of couple hours later, Holt’s truck is kicking up snow as it rolls into the driveway. But there’s another vehicle pulling up right behind him.

Big. Black. Expensive.

Shit.

I don’t need to see who’s behind the wheel to know exactly who it is.

I step out onto the porch just as Holt slams his door shut, his whole body coiled tight, already preparing for a fight. Wyatt’s right behind me. His hair’s still damp from the shower, and a towel is slung over his shoulder.

Ivy’s mother climbs out of her ridiculous SUV, looking like she’d rather swallow bugs than be here. Woman looks like she took a wrong turn on her way to a red carpet. I can see the resemblance to Ivy, but this woman is so airbrushed and botoxed, it’s only slight. Her hair is perfect, her makeup flawless, and her eyes are colder than a winter up on this mountain.

“Gentlemen,” she says, looking us over like we’re something she scraped off her shoe. “I assume you know why I’m here.”

Holt crosses his arms. “Oh, we know.”

Wyatt snorts, rubbing his jaw. “Damn shame you drove all the way up here just to turn around and head back.”

Her eyes narrow. “Ivy is coming with me.”

“No, she’s not,” I say, my voice flat.

Her lips curl like I’ve just personally offended her. “This is kidnapping.”

Wyatt barks out a laugh. “Kidnapping? Lady, she’s not locked in a basement somewhere. She’s here because shewantsto be.”

“She’s confused,” her mother snaps. “Clearly she’s being manipulated?—”

“She’s ours.” The words are out before I can stop them, and I don’t regret them for a damn second.

Her head snaps toward me, eyes flashing with something between fury and disgust. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I say, jaw tight. “She’s ours.”

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