Page 36 of Silver Fox's Twin Surprise

“I’m saying I’m done,” I said, my throat tightening. “I’m quitting my job at Twin Peaks. I can’t handle the long shifts, the stress. It’s not safe for me or the babies. I’m going back to my mom’s house. She can help me, and I’ll have time to figure things out.” I felt horrible. I knew she relied on my income to pay her bills here, and meeting me was an answer to her prayers. I felt like a bad friend and on top of that, I felt like a failure.

Alana blinked, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. Finally, she said, “If that’s what you need to do, I get it. I just… I’ll miss you so much.” Her lip quivered as she spoke, and I knew she was feeling as sad about this as I was, but I didn't have a choice. At twenty weeks pregnant with twins and struggling with health issues on top of that, I needed rest and my mom.

I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’ll miss you too. But I have to put the babies first. I don’t have a choice.”

She nodded, though her smile was sad. “Rick and I will manage. You just focus on you, okay? And don’t forget to call me. A lot.” The idea that Rick would move in and help her was comforting, but I got jealous too. I just knew I couldn't do it anymore and I tried not to take offense.

“I won’t,” I promised, though the words felt hollow. It already felt like goodbye.

After Alana disappeared into her room to call Rick, I sat there alone, staring at the beige carpet like it held all the answers to the mess my life had become. The apartment felt too quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against my chest and made it hardto breathe. The rain outside had slowed, the rhythmic patter against the window the only sound keeping me company.

I attempted to pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them, but my growing belly got in the way. Cole’s empty living room flashed in my mind. I’d sat there tonight, ready to tell him about the twins, ready to give him a chance to step up—and instead, I’d gotten nothing. No Cole. No explanation. Just more evidence that I was in this alone.

I pressed my hands against my belly, feeling the faintest of flutters. The thought of raising twins by myself terrified me. Would I be enough? What kind of life could I give them on my own? I was already stretched so thin, my health teetering most days. I couldn’t keep working long shifts at Twin Peaks, running myself ragged.

And yet, what else could I do? Cole wasn’t reliable. Tonight proved that. If I told him about the twins now, what would happen? Would he suddenly show up with roses and promises? Would he even care? And if he did, would it last? A small, bitter laugh escaped me. I already knew the answer.

I had to protect myself. More importantly, I had to protect the twins. No chasing after Cole, no bending over backward to accommodate him. If he wanted to be part of their lives, fine, but it would be on my terms. And if he didn’t? Well, I’d figure it out. Somehow.

I glanced at my phone on the coffee table, hesitating for a moment before picking it up. My hands were shaking as I scrolled through my contacts and found my mom’s number. She’d told me I could come back home any time. I’d resisted for weeks, stubbornly clinging to the idea of independence. But I wasn’t independent. Not anymore.

The line rang twice before she picked up, her voice warm and familiar. “Rose? Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

I took a deep breath, my throat tightening. “Mom, I… I need to come home.”

Her answer was immediate, firm, and exactly what I needed. “Of course, honey. Your room is ready.”

29

COLE

The call went straight to voicemail again. For the fifth time today. I clenched my phone so hard I thought it might snap in half. “Rose,” I said after the beep, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s me. Please, just… call me back. I need to talk to you. I’m sorry about… everything.”

I ended the call and stared at the screen, waiting like an idiot for a text, a missed call notification, anything. Nothing came, just like it hadn’t come yesterday or the day before. I tossed the phone onto the couch and rubbed my face with both hands. I needed to shave, but the thought of holding the razor made me wince.

I looked at my hands, holding them out in front of me. They had become my enemies, trembling the same way they did frequently lately. I’d tried the treatments—meds, therapy, even that damn brain stimulation they recommended. Nothing worked. The tremors came and went as they pleased, cruelly reminding me that my body wasn’t my own anymore.

The lawsuit had been dropped weeks ago, but I didn’t feel free. I didn’t feel anything close to normal. Kansas City was supposedto help me reset, give me space to think. Instead, it felt like I’d packed all my problems into a suitcase and brought them with me. I carried it all around on my shoulders again, and it felt as bad as the anxiety over that lawsuit had felt. The one thing I hadn't done was start drinking again.

I shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge out of habit more than hope. A few takeout boxes stared back at me, their contents unappetizing and stale. I hadn’t cooked in days. Maybe weeks. It was easier to order out, to avoid handling knives or pots that reminded me of what I’d lost.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it, slamming the fridge shut and leaning against the counter. I stared at the cabinets, willing myself to do something, anything productive. But the thought of chopping vegetables or even boiling water felt like scaling a mountain.

Instead, I grabbed my phone again and scrolled through my delivery app. Burgers. Pizza. Tacos. It didn’t matter. I picked the first place that looked halfway decent and placed the order. Another thirty bucks wasted, but at least I wouldn’t go hungry.

As I waited for the food, I stared at the blank TV screen across the room. It felt like my life—empty, static. Rose had been my anchor in all this, and now she was gone. I didn’t blame her. Not really. But if she didn’t call me back soon, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending I was okay.

I stared at my phone again, the delivery timer ticking down in the corner of the screen. Fifteen minutes until the food arrived, but it might as well have been fifteen hours. My gaze kept drifting to the call log—her name sitting there over and over, a painful reminder of every unanswered attempt.

She wasn’t just ignoring me. She’d turned her phone off. That hurt more than I wanted to admit. Rose wasn’t the type to ghost someone without a reason, and I knew I’d given her plenty. Still, I couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my chest, the fear that I’d pushed her too far.

What if she didn’t want to talk to me? What if she never wanted to talk to me again?

I ran a hand through my hair, the tremors making it hard to focus. She had to call me back eventually… didn’t she?

The cab ride to work felt like it took forever, though the driver barely spoke and the streets were clear. I’d debated calling in sick, but what was the point? Sitting at home wasn’t going to make me feel any better, and I’d already missed enough time during the lawsuit and my treatments. If I didn't show up, I'd be fired. My hands fidgeted in my lap, trembling slightly. I shoved them into my pockets before the driver noticed.

When we pulled up to the hospital, I hesitated before stepping out. The place felt different, like I was walking into someone else’s life. I used to belong here. Now? I wasn’t so sure. I'd done everything humanly possible short of having part of my brain cut out, and I'd never perform a surgery again. I couldn’t wrap my brain around that. And how would I tell my bosses?

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