Page 54 of Wilder Heart

“Do you have any ice packs?” She took the next shirt from him, and he bent to grab some more. Nearby, Annalise was chasing after a grasshopper. Very helpful, that one.

“Uh, no? I have painkillers.”

Mary-Beth snorted. “I have some you can use. They’ll help with the swelling.”

“Don’t go to any trouble for me. I’ve had—” He stopped short of saying it again.

Her assessing gaze found his. “Worse?” she guessed, and he watched her eyes fall to the knife tattooed on his neck.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

She lowered her arms, worrying the blouse in her hands. There were unspoken things on her face, worries and questions. History stretched between them, and he waited for it all to come tumbling down. But then Annalise shrieked with laughter and dove out of the way of the grasshopper, reminding them that they weren’t alone.

She cleared her throat, plucking two more clothes-pins off the line and adding the next shirt. “I think Lain’s a little daunted by the idea of raising twins.”

Wilder braced himself. He could do this. He could be normal. “Well, he’d know firsthand how wild they can be.”

She chuckled. “Any advice?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t dress them alike.”

“Aw, really?”

She looked so disappointed, he couldn’t help laughing. “Fine, fine, have your cutesy photoshoots of them in matching outfits.”

She laughed loudly. “Just when they’re little babies. As soon as they can start choosing for themselves, they can wear what they’d like. It’s just easy to buy two of something instead of hunt for two different kinds of things.”

“I guess that makes sense.” He wracked his brain for something else to say. “Lain and I…” His voice broke, and her head whipped toward him. He coughed. “Sorry. Lain and I used to sneak into each other’s bedrooms.”

He stopped, staring out at the line where the grassy hill met the cloudy sky. Dad’s voice rang through his memory, followed by the sharp smack of pain between his shoulder blades.

“Wilder?” Mary-Beth ventured softly, closer than before.

He inhaled sharply, blinking the memory away. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and rather than shying away, he took strength from it, straightening his spine as he met her eyes. “He hated it when he’d find us in bed together. Said it was wrong for two boys to sleep in the same bed. Even brothers. Even if wewere scared of a thunderstorm or he’d gone on another fucking bender—” He stopped, glancing over to make sure Annalise couldn’t overhear him. “They’re twins,” he breathed. “They’ll be closer to each other than anybody. Let them be. Don’t separate them if you don’t have to.”

She looked down at her stomach, rubbing in a circular motion. “We won’t. I promise.”

And then she gasped, her eyes bright with happiness, and grabbed his hand, laying it on her stomach. It felt intimate, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt, but before he could protest, he felt it. The baby—one of the babies—pressing against his palm from inside her. He couldn’t tell what body part it was, but it was big and round.

She groaned, chuckling. “That’s a butt.”

He sputtered out a laugh. “What?”

She nodded. “Yeah. They’re both upside-down now. That’s Baby B straightening his legs out this way,” she guided his hand to the other side of her stomach, where he felt two smaller lumps which had to be feet, “and pushing his butt out here.” She laughed. “Which means Baby A is curled up just below his legs. They take turns stretching out. I’m hoping that means they’ll take turns when they’re old enough to scream about it.”

“Baby A and B?” he asked. “No names yet?”

“Not yet. We’re still debating between a handful. It’s hard enough deciding on a name foronebaby, let alone two.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

They finished hanging up the clothes, and with nothing more to do, Wilder picked up his crutches with the intention of making his escape.

“Annalise, honey, can you grab the basket and run it inside for me?” Mary-Beth called, and Annalise bounded over with all the energy of a seven-year-old, snatching up the basket and racing toward the back door.

“Why don’t you come in for a bit, take a load off? I’ve got an apple pie cooling on the stove.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” he said quickly.

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