Page 268 of Lost Then Found
Lainey squeals like she’s proud of that.
I glance between the two of them—the wildest, loudest, most chaotic little masterpieces Lark and I have ever managed to create, besides Hudson. Then I hold up a hand like I’m taking roll call.
“Option one: banana pancakes. Option two: cheesy scrambled eggs. Option three: leftover cinnamon crumb cake from last night—only if we eat fast and your mom doesn’t catch us.”
Jack kicks his feet under the tray with a grin and a high pitched squeal.
“Oh, now you’ve got opinions?” I laugh, reaching over to rufflehis curls. “You didn’t even blink when I asked you five seconds ago.”
He narrows his big brown eyes at me, serious as ever. Eighteen months old, and he already looks like he’s plotting world domination—or at least how to sneak the syrup bottle off the counter.
He’s got my hair—thick, dark, already curling around his ears—and Lark swears he’s got my quiet curiosity too. Always watching, always thinking. He’s not the first to jump in, but he’s usually the one who figures out how something works before anyone else.
Lainey’s the opposite—hell, she’s a wildfire in a baby body. Curls so pale they catch the sun, big blue eyes that don’t miss a damn thing, and lungs strong enough to wake the cattle three pastures over. She shrieks when she’s happy, throws herself on the floor like the world’s ending when she’s not, and claps like she’s leading a damn parade every time someone walks in the room.
They’re twins, born four minutes apart, but couldn’t be more different if they tried. Jack’s got the patience of a monk. Lainey’s already climbed out of her crib twice this week and figured out how to open the snack drawer on her own.
So basically, she’s gonna give me gray hair by the time she hits kindergarten.
“Alright, alright,” I say, turning back to the stove. “Banana pancakes it is. But don’t go telling your mama we skipped the fruit cup again, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Their twin giggles bounce off the kitchen walls, loud and nothing short of pure joy.
Lark and I got married a year and some change after I proposed, right here on the ranch. Early October, just as the leaves were turning that golden amber color, like someone lit the whole valley from the inside out. It was warm enough we didn’t need jackets, but cool enough the groomsmen didn’t complain in their suits.
Lark wore this elegant, silky dress that hugged her in all the right places and complimented her baby bump. She was four months pregnant at the time and looked like something out of a damn dream, her blonde hairpinned back with little daisies tucked in, her skin flushed, her eyes shining like she already knew every moment of that day would live in my chest for the rest of my life. I remember standing there, watching her walk toward me across the field, with tears in my eyes and my heart thudding so loud I could barely hear the music.
The barn looked like a fairytale that night. Wren, Sage, Miller and Mom hung soft white drapes from the rafters and strung up hundreds of warm lights. Well, Miller stood back and told everyone else where to put things, so there’s that.
There were linen-covered tables, candles in tall brass holders, and simple wildflower arrangements that looked like they belonged on a magazine cover. It was still us—but dressed up like the kind of night you remember forever.
Mom and Loretta made all the food—rosemary roasted chicken, beef tenderloin with horseradish cream, buttery fingerling potatoes, fresh green beans, and warm rolls. They baked the cake too. Lark’s favorite. A cinnamon crumb cake layered with whipped mascarpone and sugared berries. She cried when she saw it.
Ridge spent most of the night trying to get Miller to dance with him. The man was relentless—pulling out every move he had. Miller dodged him like it was her full-time job. At one point, I think she actually ducked behind Loretta to avoid him.
Eventually, he pivoted. Started working the crowd, flirting with anything that had heels and a pulse, throwing compliments around like confetti. And of course, the women ate it up—laughing, twirling their hair, leaning in a little closer every time he spoke. Miller just sipped her champagne and rolled her eyes like she was over it, but I saw her. She watched him more than once when she thought no one was paying attention.
Hudson was buttoned-up in a black suit, hair combed back, shoes he kept scuffing because he refused to sit still. He danced with Lark once—arms wrapped around her—and smiled so big I swear my chest cracked open.
Later, he crawled up in one of the chairs outside and fell asleep with cakeon his face and his hands still clutching the glow sticks someone handed him.
It was a hell of a night. The best night of my life.
Well—until Jack and Lainey got here.
After Lark and I got engaged, she didn’t waste a lot of time. After a year of living together she was ready—really ready—to have more kids. She got her IUD taken out the week after we sat down and talked about it, even though I didn’t need convincing. Not even a little. We figured it might take a while.
It didn’t. She was pregnant a month later.
I remember the look on her face at that second ultrasound. Wide-eyed. A little pale. Like she could see it before anyone else could. And then the tech turned the screen and said, “There’s Baby A…and there’s Baby B.”
I damn near hit the floor.
She laughed so hard she cried. And I sat there with my head between my knees trying to breathe while she rubbed my back likeshewasn’t the one about to grow two whole humans at once.
Her body changed fast. It felt like one day she was still herself, and the next, she was carrying all of it—twice over. Her belly grew so quickly it surprised both of us. Her back ached, her ankles swelled, her energy dipped in ways that made her go quiet.
And still, I couldn’t stop looking at her. She was beautiful in a way I hadn’t known before. Something about knowing part of me was inside her—growing, becoming—made her feel even more like mine. Not in a possessive way. Just in athis is homekind of way.
