Page 81 of Snow in Texas

The first few nights were the hardest, for reasons she didn’t want to think about. Namely that she was more attached than she ever would have thought possible.

Maybe that wasn’t such a terrible affliction. If Ava was right and Colin was capable of being a very involved husband…

Not that she was thinking about rings and vows.

Shit.

Sometimes she really hated herself for being such a fan of commitment.

In any event, the urgency of longing faded as the days melted into weeks. Still there, but stowed carefully inside her in a way that wouldn’t prevent her from going about her day.

Days like today.

“Cletus,” she said, praying for calm as she faced off from one of the twins in front of the washing machine. “What did you put in here?”

He shrugged and gave her one of his mostly blank stares. “Nothin’ but my clothes.”

She leaned over and peered down into the machine. It had been screaming when she passed it in the hall, out of balance and knocking so hard the whole unit had scooted forward a few inches across the floor. “Yeah, but what was on your clothes?”

Without apparent shame, he said, “Wet concrete.”

A lot of it, apparently, which was currently gray sludge in the bottom of the machine.

She took a breath and kept her voice even. “And how did you get that on your clothes?”

“I fell in it.”

She lifted her brows, inviting further explanation.

“Catcher and me was–”

“You know what?” She held up a hand. “Changed my mind, I don’t want to know. Just clean this out as best you can and maybe we can salvage it.”

That was doubtful. Thank God she and Candy had a machine in the sanctuary.

Thank God she had a private bathroom back there, too, because that’s where she sprinted, just in time to lose her meager lunch of saltines.

The problem with morning sickness, she reflected afterward, was that it didn’t just strike in the morning, but afflicted her all day long. Her stomach gave her a brief spell of quiet around three most afternoons, but would turn on her with a vengeance an hour later.

She rinsed her mouth out and checked her reflection. She looked haggard; pale and droopy-eyed, and not herself. If Candy could see her right this minute, he’d know something was off. She managed to smile a little, thinking about his array of facial expressions when she told him. She ought to tell Colin ahead of time, so he’d have his running shoes laced up tight.

Thinking of them – both her boys – made her smile, and then wilt with loneliness. Did she love the club? Yes. But without Candy and Colin around, the antics and idiosyncrasies of the rest of the guys were more exhausting than they were entertaining.

With a quick mental pep talk, Jenny left the sanctuary, only to bump into Talis out in the hall. “Oh.” She pulled up short, more rattled than she should have been. “Sorry. I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

He tilted his head and studied her, but the gesture was nothing like Colin’s puppy-like, quizzical stance, which she thought was cute and charming. This was like having a buzzard decide if you were dead enough to eat yet. If she was totally honest, Talis had always made her uneasy. She trusted him with her safety, trusted his loyalty to the club. But she could find no inroads to connect with the man. Sometimes, sharing the same cause and pledging loyalty to the same people wasn’t enough to bridge any kind of friendship.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and gruff as always. He gave the impression that he didn’t like talking, the words seemingly reluctant, always.

She smiled. “Fine. What’s up?”

His head titled the other way, the same study at a new angle. “Ginger,” he said.

“What?”

“Ginger,” he repeated. “When my…” He cleared his throat and it sounded painful. “When Tracy was pregnant. She chewed ginger, said it helped with feeling sick.”

Jenny sucked in a breath. “How did you know?” Her heart thumped hard in her chest, and her palms itched, a sudden prickling beneath the skin.

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