Page 113 of Fractured
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I peed on myself.” She snapped.
Not even caring about the eyes that came to her, instead understanding flashed in everyone’s gaze.
I added ten more boxes of diapers, wipes, and creams, and had the cart already full by the time she came back.
She eyed everything and nodded.
That night, after I unloaded everything, growling at her every time she tried to help, I had just put the rocking chair together in the nursery so she could sit and keep me company while I built the furniture.
“Jacob,” she said.
I shook my head, “Reminds me of old man Hooper.”
She nodded, “Travis?”
“Not bad,” I said.
“Court?” she asked.
“Boys. Talia. Boys.”
She snickered.
“Kane?” I asked.
She nodded, “Not bad.”
Then she tilted her head to the side, “What about Ryder?”
I looked at her, because I liked that name. “What made you think of that?”
“Your dad’s name is Ryan. Make it a play-off of that?” she said.
I nodded, “Fucking like it.”
Then I asked, “What was Henrietta’s husband’s name?”
She sniffed, “Hormones.”
I chuckled, “His name was hormones?”
She threw a Reese’s cup she hadn’t opened yet at me.
I tagged it, opened it, winked, and popped it in my mouth.
“His name was Isaiah.” She told me.
I nodded, “Fucking fits.”
She smiled, then she nodded. “Middle names.”
I groaned.
She laughed.
I had finished with the baby furniture, and we were squabbling about middle names.
