Page 96 of Montana Justice

Sadie chose that moment to voice her displeasure at being ignored, her imperious baby demands echoing through the kitchen. Caleb immediately joined in, because heaven forbid his sister get all the attention.

“Our very loud children want pancakes,” I said against Lachlan’s chest.

“Then we better feed them before they stage a full revolt.”

By the time we got both twins settled with cut-up pancakes and fruit, the coffee was cold and we were both covered in syrup. Typical morning, really.

“I need to get them ready,” I said, checking the time. “Lark’s expecting us by nine.”

“About that.” Lachlan pulled out his phone. “Beckett asked if we could do dinner tonight. All of us, at Resting Warrior.”

“Sure. Everything okay with him?”

“More than okay, apparently.” Something in Lachlan’s voice made me look up. “He’s actually bringing her.”

“She’s good for him.” I thought about the woman who’d turned Beckett’s world upside down in ways none of us had expected. “Once you get past all the complications.”

“The complications almost got them both killed.”

“But they didn’t.” I reached over to squeeze his hand. “Sometimes the best things come from the most impossible situations.”

Lachlan lifted my hand to his lips. “Speaking from experience?”

“Maybe a little.”

Later, at Pawsitive Connections, I settled both twins into the double stroller while Lark updated me on the morning feeding schedule. The April air still held a leftover winter’s bite, but the sun was trying its best to warm things up.

“Duchess is being dramatic about her grain again,” Lark said, rolling her eyes. “I swear that horse holds grudges. She’s still mad I trimmed her mane last week.”

“I’ll sweet-talk her.” I adjusted Caleb’s blanket as he tried to grab his sister’s toy. “She never stays mad at me long.”

“Because you spoil her rotten with those carrots you sneak her.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The twins started fussing, ready to be free of the stroller and explore. Lark helped me transfer them to the soft play area she’d set up in the barn’s heated office. Safe, contained, and visible through the window while I worked.

“Go on,” she said. “Duchess is waiting for her morning worship session. I mean grooming. Definitely meant grooming.”

The barn smelled like hay and horses and possibility. Six months ago, I’d collapsed right here, breaking apart at the sight of Duchess’s twins. Now, I drew strength from this place, from the work that kept my hands busy and my heart steady.

Duchess whinnied when she saw me, already stretching her neck over the stall door for attention. Her twins—not so little anymore at six months—watched from the paddock, all long legs and attitude.

“Morning, beautiful,” I murmured, running my hand along her neck. “Hear you’re being difficult about breakfast.”

She nudged my pocket, checking for contraband carrots. Some things never changed.

As I groomed her, I found myself thinking about tonight’s dinner. About Beckett and his new woman. About how we’d all found our way through darkness to something better. Not perfect—perfect was for fairy tales. But real and solid and worth fighting for.

“Mama!”

I turned to see Lark holding Sadie up to the office window, my daughter’s face pressed against the glass in delight. Caleb was probably trying to climb something he shouldn’t.

My children. Both of them. Here and safe and loved.

The adoption papers were just a formality. These babies had been Lachlan’s from the moment he’d held them. Had been ours from that first night we’d sat in the rocking chair, planning how to bring Sadie home.

But having it legal, official, recognized by the same system that could have torn us apart—that meant something too.

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