Page 71 of Wild Heart

Something inside her stirred, not fear, not quite. Just a ripple. Like when the forest goes quiet before a storm. Like knowing change was coming.

“You okay?” Olivia asked, noticing the change in her posture.

Natalie nodded. “Yeah. Just... emotional.”

Olivia chuckled. “Pregnancy’ll do that to you.”

Natalie didn’t answer. She was still watching Mason, who had turned and, as if sensing her gaze, looked up at her. Their eyes met across the distance. He smiled. And that’s when she knew. Something in her heart pushed in, urgently, fiercely, with the simple truth that this, this exact day, might be one of the last golden ones. That life had a way of turning without warning. And that joy, if not fully lived in, could vanish before it ever had the chance to take root.

She raised her hand to him. He waved back, mouth moving silently with a phrase she’d come to know well.I love you.

She smiled, blinking fast. “I love you too,” she whispered.

Beside her, Olivia placed a hand on the small of her back. “Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s go sit before that baby decides to take over your ribcage again.”

Natalie laughed, and they walked together toward the porch, the scent of lavender and sun-warmed wood rising around them, while down below, two men worked side by side, father and son, framed in the clean light of summer.

And above them, a hawk circled. Silent. Watching. Foreshadowing something only the wind seemed to understand.

29

The evening settled like a shawl around the shoulders of the sanctuary, with the chirr of crickets and the slow hush of wind through the trees. Inside their cabin, Natalie and Mason moved through familiar rhythms. The small table near the window had been set with two bowls of venison stew, hearty and rich, seasoned with rosemary and cracked pepper. Mason poured cider into mismatched mugs while Natalie adjusted the cushions on the wooden bench where she liked to sit, her back cradled against the window frame.

The lights above the table glowed soft and amber, casting their little world in warmth. Through the window, the sky was darkening, the first stars winking into view.

“I think this might be the quietest day we’ve had in months,” Mason said, easing into his chair across from her.

Natalie smiled and cradled her bowl between her hands. “Don’t jinx it.”

He grinned. “You don’t believe in jinxes.”

“Not usually,” she said, pausing to spoon up the stew. “But I’ve been pregnant long enough to respect the laws of irony.”

He laughed, and she watched him, heart tight and full. Hislaugh had changed over the past few months, looser, warmer. Like he’d shed something heavy. And maybe she had too.

She looked down at her belly, which rose beneath the cotton of her dress like a quiet moon. The baby had been quiet today. Peaceful. Still.

She brushed a hand across the curve. “I think they like the sound of your voice.”

Mason reached out and pressed his palm gently to her stomach, the way he always did now, like it was prayer. “I’m going to love them so much it hurts.”

“You already do,” she said softly.

They ate in silence for a while, the kind that only comes from shared understanding and the closeness of two people who no longer needed to fill every space with words.

The wind picked up outside, rattling the porch lantern. In the distance, a wolf howled once, long and low, a sound more solemn than sorrowful.

Natalie finished her stew and leaned back with a small sigh. “We should write vows,” she murmured.

Mason looked up. “Now?”

“Not this minute,” she said with a small smile. “But soon. Before we forget what this feels like.”

“What does it feel like?”

She tilted her head. “Like everything’s exactly where it should be.”

He reached for her hand. “It is.”

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