Page 71 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
She exhales, rests her head on my chest. “You know—you still haven’t admitted this place changed you.”
“It didn’t change me.”
“No?”
“It gave me a reason to stop pretending I didn’t want things.”
She looks up at me. “And what do you want?”
I cradle her belly again, brushing my thumb over the stretched fabric of her pumpkin dress.
“Everything that’s mine.”
She shivers. “Possessive much?”
I growl. “You’re mine.”
“Oh, I know.” She smirks. “Clarify it daily, why don’t you?”
“Planning to.”
We stand there, watching our accidental dream unfold in pumpkins and firelight.
Then Aspen whispers something I never saw coming.
“I want more.”
I go still. “More what?”
“Kids. Chaos. Coffins. All of it.”
My heart punches hard.
“You’re sure?”
She nods, eyes fierce. “I was born for this. For you. For them.”
Our son, Ash, barrels toward us, plastic fangs falling out of his mouth as he shouts: “MOM! DAD! The skeleton dunk tank is full of slime!”
Aspen kisses my jaw. “See? Heaven.”
Ash crashes into Aspen’s legs and hugs her belly. “Hi baby!” he shouts at her bump. “You’re gonna like it here! Daddy yells a lot but Mommy said that’s just how he says I love you!”
I groan.
Aspen grins.
“I was thinking on baby names for our girl,” I say, lifting Ash in my arms, “what do you think about Hazel or maybe Autumn?”
Ash scrunches his nose. “Can we name her somethin’ fun?”
“Like what, buddy?” Aspen rubs his back.
“Like Pumpkin!”
A laugh barrels out of me. “Pumpkin Maddox. It has a great ring to it.”
Aspen tickles Ash then and our little man bursts into a fit of uncontrolled giggles.
