Page 60 of Halfway to Hell
Later, tangled beneath the covers, Texas found the strength to open up about his life before Lisa died. He spoke quietly, every word weighted with pain and loss.
Sunday’s body stiffened at times, an involuntary, physical reaction to his story. When he told her about their baby, her eyes snapped open, wide and searching.
He sensed her fear, the same terror he carried. What if their child inherited that same cruel birth defect?
And then he saw it, the glimmer of tears pooling in her eyes.
She reached for him, voice thick with empathy. “I’m so sorry you and Lisa had to endure that.”
Her words took his breath away. How deeply he loved her. How fully she accepted him—without judgment, without hesitation. He pulled her down to him, wrapping her in his arms.
They lay there together, the world outside fading away until sleep claimed them both.
Chapter 24
Seven months later …
The first sign the day wasn’t going to go well came when she woke up late. The second hit when she found her clothes still damp in the dryer and third, the truck keys nowhere to be found. But when she glanced at the clock again, she realized she’d read it wrong. She wasn’t late at all. In fact, she’d been up hours earlier than she needed to be.
With a sigh, Sunday tossed the clothes back into the dryer and then went back to the bedroom and slipped under the covers again, curling up next to Texas, who was still sprawled out and snoring softly across the bed.
When her alarm finally buzzed at its usual time, Sunday rolled over and switched it off without opening her eyes. All she could think about was coffee—strong, hot coffee. That sounded perfect right now.
Stretching, Sunday smiled as she rubbed her extended belly, wondering what time Texas had gotten up. Tossing off thecovers, she screamed as two strong hands suddenly pulled her into a warm, broad chest.
“Morning,” a gruff voice murmured in her ear. Damn it, not the ears, she thought, flinching. A quick kiss on her forehead was all she got before he untangled himself, leaving Sunday with an unexpected pang of loneliness. Damn, she thought. They could at least snuggle a little.
As Texas headed to the bathroom, she couldn’t help but appreciate him. He really was the total package. But when the shower started running, she moved toward the kitchen, opening the bag of coffee. Almost immediately, her face dropped over the sink.
Barely finishing rinsing her mouth and the sink, Texas appeared, the scent of his bath soap trailing behind him.
“Are you okay, Doll?” he asked gently.
Before she could even turn to face him, she was throwing up again. The closer he got, the worse the nausea became—the smell of his body wash was setting off her gag reflex.
“Your bath soap,” she managed weakly, before he backed away.
“I’ll take another shower and try to get the smell off,” he said, retreating to the bathroom.
“What else is triggering you?” he asked from the doorway.
Sunday only pointed at the coffee pot.
Texas wanted to tell her it’d be just a few more weeks and then the worst would pass. Instead, he went back to the shower.
An hour later, Sunday lay on the bed, feeling defeated by her own body. The pregnancy had brought relentless bouts ofmorning sickness and dizzy spells that left her drained and vulnerable.
She’d changed everything from her toothpaste to processed foods. Just the thought of getting near a bag of Doritos made her start dry heaving. And pizza? That had become her arch nemesis. What she wouldn’t give for a slice of deep-dish meat lovers with extra sauce and garlic butter. But even the thought of greasy pizza twisted her stomach into knots.
Three more weeks until she’d have the baby. She prayed the sickness wouldn’t plague her much longer.
Easing off the bed, she tested herself by standing up. A sigh escaped her lips, maybe the morning sickness and dizziness were finally easing. Checking the clock, she realized she had enough time to get dressed and still make it to the gift shop to help out.
Things hadn’t gotten any better once she arrived at the gift shop. It had been a shit day from the start—the stock boy didn’t show up, and then the computer system went down. What was supposed to be a three-hour shift stretched into an all-day grind.
Sunday had resigned herself to the fact that this was life on the farm. “Everyone helps. No exceptions,” Kathryn had told her on the very first day she’d met the family.
Sunday hoped they’d make an exception for her once the baby arrived. But knowing Kathryn, the answer would probably be no. She’d be lucky if she managed to have that baby in a hospital—and not out in the orchard, picking apples.
