Page 66 of Better as It

I groan. “He’s a snitch.”

“He also told me you’re the strongest person he’s ever met.”

I blink.

“Did he also say that with his mouth full of sausage?”

“Most definitely.”

We laugh.

Then I take his hand and place it over my belly.

“Soon,” I whisper.

“Soon,” he echoes.

We’re not guaranteed forever.

Hell, we’re not even guaranteed tomorrow.

But what we have?

This love, this family, this fierce, wild, broken, beautiful life?

We’re holding onto it with everything we’ve got.

I can’t sleep.

Not because of the kicking—though the baby is currently practicing for the X Games inside my ribs—and not because of the backache or the heartburn or the fact that I’ve peed five times in the last two hours.

It’s something else.

A stillness in the air.

A kind of pause.

Like the universe is holding its breath.

I roll onto my side—slowly, because at this point turning over feels like steering a cruise ship—and find Justin already awake.

He’s lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the other resting gently over my hip. He doesn’t move when I look at him. He just watches me.

“You feel it too,” I whisper.

He nods. “Yeah.”

“It’s close.”

“I know.”

We lie there in silence for a minute, listening to the ceiling fan hum.

Then he says, “Remember the night Clutch took you on your first ride?”

My throat tightens. “Yeah.”

“BW followed behind. Tripp made him, but he reported it back to me. Wanted another pair of eyes on the road in case something happened.”

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