Page 66 of Breakaway Daddies

They all stop abruptly, like a film paused mid-action.

“Someone needs to put Lily back before we leave,” I say.

Thomas stares at me incredulously, as if I’ve grown a second head. Rowan’s grip tightens on my elbow, his brow furrowed. “Seriously?”

“She’s gonna escape. And she hates the living room,” I insist, gesturing feebly toward where my enormous snake, Lilith, is sprawled across the table.

Bruno mutters something under his breath in Slovak, a string of words that sound distinctly like a complaint as he trudges over to the table. He approaches her cautiously, like he’s handling a live wire, mumbling to himself the whole time.

“Don’t you dare bite me, little lady, or I swear you’ll be a belt by morning,” he warns, his voice a mix of teasing and genuine concern.

Once Lilith is safely nestled in her glass enclosure, Bruno secures the lid with a decisive click and turns back toward us.

“Done. Let’s go before one of us ends up needing a ride to the ER too,” he says, urgency threading his words as we prepare to leave.

Before I can protest, Thomas effortlessly lifts me into his arms, as if I’m as light as a feather. His chest presses warmly and securely against mine, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his uneven breaths.

I let my head rest on his broad shoulder, too drained to protest but comforted by the firmness of his embrace, as if he’s a fortress keeping everything else at bay.

Rowan’s hand finds mine almost immediately, his thumb brushing softly over my knuckles in a gentle, calming rhythm. He fumbles in his pocket for his key fob, pressing the button with a click that sends a reassuring beep echoing from the distance.

“You scared the shit out of us,” he murmurs.

Behind us, Bruno closes the front door with a solid thud, turning the key twice in the lock before jogging to rejoin us. As he reaches me, he gently tucks a few stray strands of hair behind my ear, his eyes a blend of gentle reprimand and deep, worried affection.

They hover around me like protective satellites, buzzing with anxious energy. I should be rolling my eyes at their fussing. I should be feeling annoyance prickling at my skin.

But I’m not.

Instead, a warm sensation flickers deep inside me, as if their care is seeping into my icy core, thawing the chill I’ve carried for too long, like an ice cube slowly melting under the heat of their concern and warmth.

Three men who’ve never once made me feel like I need to pretend, who accept me wholly as I am.

Three men who dropped everything and came running the moment I reached out.

I nestle closer into Thomas, my body aching and unsteady, but something within my chest, something that has been hard and jagged, begins to smooth and soften.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Jinx

The emergency roomis harshly lit, its brightness bouncing off the sterile white walls, making my eyes squint.

The monotonous whoosh of the air vent above creates a backdrop of sound, punctuated only by the occasional beeping of machines monitoring patients.

In the hallway, nurses shuffle past with their soft shoes, creating a rhythm that barely breaks the silence. I recline against the plastic-coated pillow, feeling the crinkly paper beneath me stick uncomfortably to the backs of my legs.

The pervasive scent of bleach and hand sanitizer hangs in the air, while the scratchy hospital gown irritates my skin, making me want to escape my own body.

The wait for both mine and the baby’s results feels interminable. The nurse attending to me has been a bright spot in this dreary room—her red hair pulled back into a neat bun, bright pink compression socks peeking out from her scrubs, and a voice so gentle it feels like a balm to my frazzled nerves.

She gives my wrist a reassuring pat just as the ultrasound technician enters, wheeling in the portable machine.

The technician spreads the cold, sticky jelly on my belly, causing me to flinch. Instantly, the boys gather around, their curiosity palpable.

I wouldn’t dare call them vultures to their faces, though; they’re too captivated by the moment, their expressions akin to children on Christmas morning, with me as the centerpiece of their wonder.

The ultrasound screen flickers to life, initially displaying grainy, indistinct blobs until, suddenly, a clear image emerges. A tiny, flickering shape appears, and all three boys inhale sharply, as if witnessing a miracle.

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