Page 19 of Tangled Threads Of Fate

He shrugged. “My mom told me about Mrs. B, and I wanted to pay my respects.”

Mrs. Byrne had never thought Thomas was right for me, mostly because she believed he was as stupid as a box of rocks and not half as useful.“Simple men want simple things, and you, my sweet Wren, deserve more than simple. You deserve someone who’ll give you the whole world.”That was what she’d told me when we broke up, and I had to admit, it had lessened the burn of the fact I’d caught him cheating on me.

Still, I reached out and squeezed his arm, ignoring the fact that Nate pressed me tighter to his side. “She would have appreciated that.” I dropped my voice. “How’s Ivan?”

I knew cheating was cheating, but there was something reassuring about the fact that he’d cheated on me with someone who could give him something I couldn’t. A hairy chest. And an equally hairy back.

Thomas looked around as if his mother might appear, like the vengeful old hag she was. He was still firmly in the closet. “He’s good. He sends his condolences.”

The silence stretched between the three of us. “We should go,” Nate muttered, and Thomas narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Is it”—his eyes dropped to my stomach, then flicked back up to Nate disapprovingly—“yours?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

My denial and Nate’s affirmation melded together, and I whipped my head up to stare at him.The fuck?

My cheeks flushed pink as my eyes darted back to Thomas. “They aren’t yours, and I think that’s all that should matter to you, right?” I asked lightly. “I’ll be seeing you, Thomas.”

I strode off, forcing Nate to follow along, ignoring Thomas’s shouted, “They?!” as I made it to Nate’s truck. He held the door as I climbed in like an ungainly beluga whale, shutting the door softly behind me. Then he climbed in the driver’s side, buckled me in, and put the keys in the ignition, all the while not looking in my direction, which was kind of impressive.

And because he wasn’t stupid, he didn’t start the truck.

I turned to stare at him, my eyes trying to bore holes in his face. “And what the hell wasthat?”

He grunted and started the truck. Okay, maybe hewasstupid. “You need a father for the babies so people will stop looking at you like a jezebel.”

I slow-blinked. Like, I could feel my eyelids flutter at the patriarchal bullshit of that statement. “Let them look, Nate. I don’t care.”

“I care. Makes me want to wring all their necks. Do it for their health, if not for your own reputation.”

I shook my head, like that would improve the crap spilling from his mouth. “You areunbelievable, you know that?”

I thought I might’ve seen his lips curl before he schooled his features back into his normal grumpy mask. “Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. As we drove, I stared out the window, trying to squash the tiny bit of my heart that fluttered at the thought that Nate cared enough about me—about us—to claim my babies in public.

Chapter 9

WREN

Three days after Mrs. Byrne’s funeral, I knew it was time to go back to my own apartment. Nothing else had happened. There’d been no more shadow monsters or supernatural things, and I was beginning to wonder if it had ever happened at all. Nate didn’t glow any more than normal, and his ax was on the wall where it had always been. The longer nothing happened, the longer I wondered if the streaky lights in my vision had just expanded into full-blown delusions.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that Mrs. B was still dead, and that Nate hadn’t ever contradicted that the events of that night were real, I’d really begin to wonder.

In fact, Nate was still pretty against me going back to my own apartment, even though he’d been sleeping his six-four ass on the couch, which had to be uncomfortable. But I’d imposed enough, and I hated sitting around his apartment all day while he went off to work.

I’d discovered he was an employee for an equestrian center outside of the city, where he worked as a stable manager, teaching children how to ride. My brain had almost exploded at the idea that the gruff, tattooed man who lived in the apartmentbelow me had been out there teaching preschoolers how to ride ponies all these years. He also donated his time to helping people overcome their fear of horses, and ran a program for teens and adults with disabilities who wanted to ride and do animal husbandry.

Who freaking knew?

I slowly walked up to my apartment, wearing one of Nate’s oversized hoodies. I needed to get around to buying maternity clothes, because nothing I owned fit anymore. I was hooking my jean shorts together with hair elastics now. Even my comfiest sleep shirts just fit as regular shirts these days.

If I thought the nightmare creature had just been a delusion, one look at my apartment fixed that assumption. My furniture had been flipped, and the long scratch marks on the walls were straight out of a horror film. My heart thudded loudly in my ears, and I backed away.

I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t.

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