Page 28 of Wylder Ranch
A thick brow raises. “Even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”
“Mum.” Alex’s voice is low with warning.
I shake my head. “It’s okay. I get it. You’re right, theyare less than ideal. Nothing about this is ideal.”
Alex and Clementine are silent while their mother holds my stare, and I deliver the lines I’ve been practicing since before I arrived. Though I did think I’d be saying them to Alex, not his mom. But, whatever. He’s here too.
“I understand that you’d be protective. I’m happy to have Everly take a paternity test for you, and I’m not asking for anything from Alex. I’m not here for me, I’m here for my daughter. I lost my parents when I was a teenager, and I don’t want her to miss out on the opportunity to have two.”
Victoria’s lips roll and purse, but she seems satisfied with my answer. Especially when she says, “Then if you’re happy to come now, we’ve arranged for our family doctor to meet us at Alex’s house.”
“Mother,” Alex hisses. “Absolutely not, this can wait.”
I shake my head, holding my hand up to stop any more objections. “No, it’s okay, let’s go. I prefer to get it over with.”
Alex tuts loudly and glares at his mother, but stands anyway. I’m expecting to put Everly back in her harness, but he insists on carrying her, so I wrap her up in a blanket and tuck her in. I have no idea what a paternity test entails, but I hope it’s quick, and we can get through it without a meltdown, because she’s still wide awake, and I know she’s going to want to eat soon.
The route we walk along Valentine High Street takes us past the bar where I first bumped into Alex and down to the fountain. Instead of turning left toward Miles’s cottage, we go right, and a little way up the road, we come to another charming house.
Pale brick, with large black-framed windows and a thatched roof with two chimneys at either end. The rosebushes I’ve been seeing everywhere are once again in abundance. Around the edges of the large front yard run a row of fruit trees, with no fruit on them, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping a goat from stripping the branches of what little is left.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex grumbles before yelling, “Churchill, will you fuck off.”
The goat lifts his head, regards him for a moment, then carries on munching away like nothing ever happened.
Alex’s mom tuts loudly and mumbles something I don’t catch while Clemmie giggles.
“Whose goat is that?” I ask.
“Mrs. Winston’s. It’s always out. He’s the most sociable but greedy resident of Valentine Nook. The trees around here are more heavily guarded than the Tower of London once they start blooming. Otherwise, Churchill will eat everything in sight.”
I suck the inside of my cheek, pulling in a smile at how annoyed he is, and follow him along the paved path, stopping at a black front door. A huge silver knocker in the shape of a fox sits in the middle.
“Is this your place?” I ask Alex.
He nods, stepping aside to let me in first. “Yes, welcome.”
I expect it to be like Miles’s—organized chaos, but it’s, well,organized. Thick, dark-stained floorboards stretch the length of the hallway, covered with a pale, striped runner, and a wide staircase is off to the left. The faint scent of oak and leather lingers in the air.
I follow Clemmie and her mom until we reach a large kitchen at the back, where a man is setting up a tray with rubber gloves, Q-tips, and cotton balls.
“Jesus, Mother,” Alex grumbles from behind me and tips his chin to the man. “Hi, Oliver.”
“Alex.” He nods. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Alex snaps and sits down, his eyes finding mine, again with an apology. “Haven, this is Oliver Evans, our family doctor.”
Dr. Evans gives me little more than a basic acknowledgement, and I do my best to smile back from where I’m standing next to Alex as his mom and Clementine move to the opposite side of the kitchen. I know this has to happen. I know they’re just protecting Alex, but something about the cavalier way they’re going about it makes my skin prickle.
“Wait.” Panic rises like bile in my throat when Dr. Evans snaps on a pair of latex gloves. “You’re not drawing blood from her, are you?”
He shakes his head. “No, just a simple cheek swab will suffice, and we’ll do the same for Alex. The results will be back in forty-eight hours.”
Everly is still wide awake in Alex’s arms and barely throws out a small squeak of objection when the doctor gently pushes in a Q-tip to wipe against the inside of her mouth.
“You next,” he says to Alex, securely fastening Everly’s swab inside a forensic bag, but before I let him repeat the process, I block his path. My anxiety is getting the better of me.
“I’m going to take her now. She needs to be fed.”
