Page 52 of The Wild Charge

Michelle looked tired, but her eyes widened and her smile slipped the moment she caught sight of Eden. “What’s wrong?” Though feminine, in times of high alert, her voice had a certain cold, snappish quality that reminded Eden of Fox. That bloodline ranstrong.

“Wrong?” Eden tried to play innocent.

Michelle wasn’t having it. Her gaze narrowed. “You’ve been crying.”

“I–” Oh, what the hell? “Yeah. I just told your oh-so-charming uncle that I’m pregnant.”

Under different circumstances, Michelle’s face journey would have been priceless. But Eden didn’t have it in her to laugh at the moment.

Finally, Michelle shook her head, and schooled her features. “Okay,” she said, voice surprisingly level. “That’ll do it.”

Eden sighed. “Yeah.”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions, but…”

“No, it wasn’t planned. And, honestly, I could have been more tactful about telling him.”

Michelle frowned. “No doubt you’ve been dealing with it on your own. Tact doesn’t matter to Charlie. He needed to know.”

Michelle wasn’t the first person Eden had thought of telling, but she realized she was the right person to have told – aside from Axelle – as some of the tension down her spine eased. Michelle was as practical as a number-cruncher should be, and analytical like her uncle, though gentler. More than anyone, she was equipped to cut through whatever bullshit Eden was feeling at the moment.

“Right,” she said.

Michelle said, “Is he still there?”

“No.”

Michelle snorted. “Of course not. Stupid sod. Well. You’re pregnant, then.”

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations.” Offered softly, sincerely, and with a smile.

Eden sighed again. “Not sure if those are in order at the moment.”

The smile melted away, straight off, replaced by a serious, attentive expression that made Eden want to squirm, just a little. Michelle would have made one hell of an agent – if not for the entirety of her family running a criminal enterprise. “Whatever you decide, you’ve got support, yeah? Me, and Jenny, and everyone here. I know you’ve got Axe there. And Emmie’s a good shoulder to lean on if you need it.”

Eden nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “Thanks.”

Michelle let a beat pass; let her get her breathing under control. Then said, “Tell me about Alabama.”

Gladly, Eden did.

~*~

Fox didn’t do shell-shocked, as a general rule. A therapist would probably have something to say about the way he decompressed after ops, but he wasn’t ever going to go to a therapist, so he didn’t care about their opinion.

But the last time he’d felt this way, he was reading the letter the coward Devin had sent him. That had been a gut punch, and so had this – albeit it didn’t taste like acrid betrayal.

He didn’t know what it tasted like.

Just like he didn’t know why he found himself parked in front of the barn at Briar Hall when he killed the engine.

He blinked, and his vision cleared as if he was emerging from fog, and found, to his surprise, two bikes already parked beside Becca’s truck. Familiar bikes: Tenny and Reese’s.

Curiosity pulled him down the wide barn aisle, past empty stalls. He threw a wave to Emmie’s groom, George, and went out the back doors, down the gentle slope toward the tree-shaded arena. He paused partway down, and took in the scene before him.

Reese stood at the rail, in jeans and cut, breeze toying with his now-shoulder-length hair. He had his arms folded over the top board, gaze trained unwaveringly on the figure cantering a leggy black horse around in the arena: Tenny, he realized with a lurch. A Tenny he didn’t recognize, in riding clothes, and tall boots, with his shirt tucked in, and a long whip held easily in one hand.

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