Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1)

by Kristina Weaver

  Piggish, yet so true.

  My other concern is adding stress to her already full plate. She’s been expanding by leaps and bounds since we’d returned home two months ago, and waddles around like a cute little duck, her hand firmly planted in her back, as if she’s holding herself up with the thing.

  “You gonna stop daydreaming anytime soon, or can we get a move on with this contract?” Brody gripes, tossing a dirty lunch napkin at me. “Jesus, man, you’ve been distracted since you got married, and as much as I love Ash, I’m starting to think she’s got your balls in her purse.”

  Ever since he’d let go and let God and allowed Cammy to bag him, the man has been insufferable.

  “Everything’s done. Just get Ducane to sign it, and we can move ahead. Oh, and bro, I have my balls right where they belong. Under my dick. It’s you I’m worried about, since my little sister cut you down and took your nuts. Who the hell wears a bloody pink silk tie?” I ask with a smirk, grinning when the arse smooths a hand over the fabric and grimaces.

  “She gave it to me for my birthday. Not like I had much of a choice,” he grumbles, flicking at the baby pink swath. “That woman is loony tunes. I caught her checking out wedding dresses online. I haven’t even thought about that shit yet, and she’s planning the whole thing.”

  I laugh, feeling a little lighter as he groans and grumbles about crazy females and their little club. For some reason that has my alarm bells ringing and I sit back, tapping my lips, contemplating.

  “Cammy said you were engaged.”

  “Uh, that would be a no. She only said that shit to give your mom a heart attack. We’ve only been together a few months, and we haven’t even…you know.”

  Huh.

  “And that would be because…?” I ask darkly, narrowing my eyes at my best mate.

  I have no trouble letting Cammy run roughshod over him and giving her a little help here and there, but I refuse to watch her give her heart to a man who is not capable of returning her affection.

  I’d throw away years of friendship and even look for another VP to save her from more heartache. She’d grown up wanting love and not getting it; I’ll make sure she does even if I have to beat this man to death and find her one worth her heart.

  My tone and whatever he sees in my face alerts him to his mistake, and I watch him swallow before his face hardens.

  “You mind your wife and I’ll mind mine, Jasper. Fair warning: I won’t tolerate shit from you while I bring my woman to heel.”

  Huh.

  “Still got one nut in there, huh? Good for you. Break my sister’s heart and I’ll break every bone you own.”

  His smile is back in full force, and I laugh, feeling the world right itself once again. Good, now I can go back to worrying about my wife and the little monster I put in her belly.

  Love the kid, really I do, but the little bugger is draining my love.

  “What’s got ya so tense, man?”

  I release a breath and scrub at my neck, closing my eyes on a sigh.

  “Ash isn’t doing so well, the children are running wild, and my unborn child seems to be growing like a weed. The poor woman looks like she swallowed a beach ball, and she’s only just over six months along.”

  Brody whistles and purses his lips, giving me a pointed stare.

  “Dude, I’m gonna do something that’ll chap your ass, but it’s gonna win me some much needed respect with my woman.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “I’m laying down a grand and that winter place you got in France that your girl’s breeding more’n one little Jasper heir in her belly.”

  My face, I literally feel it pale as blood rushes out of my suddenly pounding head and settles somewhere in the vicinity of my gut, making me feel woozy and lightheaded.

  I’m up and out of my chair, running for the door without a word, when I hear Brody laughing heartily at my dilemma.

  Twins?

  Well fuck me.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  “Lucian, goddammit! Stop that shit right now and put me down!”

  “Shh, love, we’re just going to a doctor’s appointment,” he mutters, cradling me in his arms and carrying me to the waiting car.

  “Hey, Mrs Jasper.”

  “Hi, Harry, how’s your wife?” I ask, glaring at my husband when he attempts to buckle the seat belt around me and curses when it won’t go around my girth.

  Stupid cravings! I’m big as a freaking house, and he wants me to fit into this shit? As if I don’t feel gross enough as it is.

  “I have to get Mad from school and take her to her dance classes. I don’t have time for this shi—stuff today. Anyway, we were just at the doctor’s a few weeks ago,” I mutter, slapping his hands away when he goes for the belt again. “It’s not gonna fit, asshole, so stop trying already!”

  He mutters something obscene, a rarity, since he’s pedantic about not cursing in front of me unless he’s inside me and out of control, and settles for taking me onto his lap.

  “Harry, call Mavis and have her get Maddy from school and to her classes, and get Philip to swing by Benjamin’s school once he’s done with football. Stop squirming, love, it’s not doing any good,” he groans, trying to pull his crotch away from my twitching butt.

  Well, hello there!

  “Okay,” I sigh, relaxing all my weight onto his thighs.

  If he never wants to walk again that’s his business, not mine. My fat ass can’t help it if he insists on this macho crap.

  “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Love, haven’t you been wondering why you’ve…expanded so rapidly?” he asks haltingly, cringing when my eyes go molten and I glare down at him with a curled lip.

  “If this is your way of telling me I’m fat, you’d better let me off your lap before I do something you’ll never recover from, buddy!” I hiss.

  That makes him laugh. Yeah, like I really need to be amusing right now, and I find myself trapped between his hands as he kisses the hell outta me.

  “Love, I am in no way calling you fat. Trust me on this.”

  “No?”

  Okay, so I’m really deflating fast, but who can blame me? After I’d tried and failed to button up the newest pair of maternity pants this morning, and had to resort to wearing what looks like Mama June Shannon’s camping tent, I’d gone into something of a funk and almost cried myself sick.

  “Um, I was in you before you even woke up this morning, love. Does that tell you nothing?”

  Weeeell…

  “Then what’s with the expansion talk, wise guy?” I ask, going hazy-eyed when we stop at a light beside a bakery truck that smells like my next wet dream.

  “Fine, you don’t think I’m gross. Why exactly are we going to the doctor again?”

  It’s really hard to concentrate and give a shit about what he’s saying when my vision and every other sense is focused on the drool-worthy donut emblazoned on the side of that van.

  Lately just the sight of certain foods sends me into what Cammy and the others call ‘the food mood’. I eat all the time, as if my body just can’t get enough, as if it’s desperate for whatever it can get.

  Sure, I know that Junior is way too big—I should know, I’ve been wetting myself at least once a day thanks to him playing football with my bladder—but no matter how much I tell myself that I should be eating healthier and much less than I have been, my body just won’t get with the program.

  Add to that the fact that he also seems to be pushing on my stomach, causing me to puke a lot of the time, and I’m pretty darn sure I should really stop eating so much.

  “Love, have you been listening?”

  Uh, that would be a big fat no.

  The light changes, and my eyes almost tear when the van turns the corner. Goodbye, donuts.

  “I need a donut, Lucian. Like right now.”

  “No. We’re going to the doctor, and then I’m taking you home. Harry, what’s taking so bloody long?”

&nbs
p; I can’t understand his urgency, and feel myself tense a little despite his hand rubbing lazy circles over my back.

  ***

  “What! Oh my God, are you fu—freaking serious?”

  Let’s backtrack here for a second… Please backtrack, so that I can go back to the minute before they told me something I really didn’t want to know.

  I’m a strong woman, have been since my mom took her last breath and my douche of a dad left me with a kid and no money, barely scraping by on a good week.

  I’m strong. I have two kids, both of whom aren’t even mine, and I manage my home and husband like a well-oiled machine. I’m definitely strong…I think, but as that doctor continues to pass the wand over my belly, digging it in every now and then, and points out everything the other doctor hadn’t seen, I feel my strength vanish beneath a tidal wave of fear.

  “Three! Are you kidding? Where the heck would they even fit in there!” I yell, slapping at the doctor’s hand and sending a glare of outrage Lucian’s way. “You couldn’t just be like everyone else and give me one!”

  He’s grinning from ear to ear like the bastard he is, his chest puffed out with pride even as his face keeps the sickly green cast I’d seen on him when he walked into the house and kidnapped me.

  I can tell he’s as uneasy about all this as he is proud, and that thought settles me enough not to hurl all over the place.

  Three. Three little Lucians currently reside inside me, sucking me dry and turning me into a whale, and yet I can’t be as upset as I want to be because honestly, how can I be cheesed when the thought of it makes me so giddy?

  “Bed rest, young lady. I’ll set up the nurse for you and tell Jan to give you my emergency numbers. I don’t see anything too concerning right now, but I’d like to keep you as comfortable as possible. The longer they stay in there the better it’ll be. Can’t have them being too underdeveloped.”

  Seriously? He’s going to tell me that in a sing song voice that has my hackles rising even as Lucian cups my face and plants a gentle kiss on my brow?

  “No more donuts for you, love.”

  Aw, shit. And here I thought he’d go easy on me, since he’s hitting the kid jackpot.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  “Three! Oh my goodness, three! The things we can do with three babies. First we’ll get them all matching outfits, and then we’ll get them mini sneakers!”

  I snort as the girls all converge on me where I’m lying on the sofa in the entertainment room, their happy, cheery faces making me feel feral and not altogether sane.

  I’ve been lying on this thing for one freaking day and I’m ready to lose my damned mind with boredom. There’s only so much TV I can watch before I feel my brain trying to trickle out of my ears, so I’d turned the thing off and proceeded to stare at the walls as Becky the nurse bustled around me and chattered to her heart’s content.

  I don’t have the heart to tell her to shut up, but the chatter is seriously wigging me out. And now these four puloozas are jumping all over my fat ass to, what? See the terrible trio through my skin?

  “Oh, calm the heck down. They’re not the next Jackson Five, you crazy coots,” I mutter, stifling a smile when they all drop down one by one and start naming my kids, as if they have any say.

  “FYI, I’m not naming any of my kids River, Hope, or freakin’ Jamal, so you idiots can just stop right there.”

  “Oh, but River is such a lyrical name,” Cammy pouts, trying to flip up my top to get to the goods.

  “Stop that! I feel like a freaking side show the way you clowns are going on. As if Lucian rubbing himself all over me and talking to them like I’m not here isn’t enough.”

  Okay, so what if it’s a little endearing?

  I’m not allowed to have sex anymore, so having him touch me and rub all up over me is not putting me in the best of moods, either. Add to that the fact that I can’t see over my stomach, and Lucian’s taking the doctor’s advice and feeding me everything but sugar, and, well, I’m pretty raw right now.

  “We should have known there was more than one,” Nat mumbles, digging through her bag for a candy bar.

  When she unwraps it and licks her lips, I lose what’s left of myself and shriek.

  “Eat that thing in front of me and I’ll rip your throat out!”

  The silence is deafening as I watch her flinch and slowly push the uneaten bar back into her designer purse, her eyes holding mine, her movements slow, like I’m pointing a gun at her.

  “’Kay, Ash, just take a deep breath and calm the heck down. There, see? It’s gone, sweetheart,” Viv mururs reassuringly, sending Nat the stink eye. “He told you he’d be pissed if we upset her. Just don’t talk or make any sudden movements till she calms down.”

  She hisses this out the side of her mouth like I’m a wild animal or a snake coiled to strike.

  “I’m pregnant, not deaf! Now give me the candy bar.”

  I see four faces freeze, and almost chuckle when they look between each other, their eyes darting to the door as if some miracle is coming in to save them or something.

  “Uh, you’re obviously not in the mood for company, darling. Maybe we should just…” Cammy murmurs.

  “Hold it right there, you traitors!” I yell when they make a break for the door. “Come back here and—”

  “Tut tut, love, shaking them down for candy? You’re worse than the children.”

  Crapsickles.

  I press my lips together and watch as he strides in, greeting the girls with a smirk before bending down to kiss my mutinous lips.

  “You heard what the doctor said. We don’t want you overloading on sugars and salt. Now be a good girl and eat the lunch I’ve brought you,” he says, placing a tray on the coffee table and hoisting me up gently.

  “Blech, what the heck is it?”

  Looks like vegetables and something that smells like death and feels like leather.

  “Tofu and a crisp vegetable salad.”

  “Oh, gross. Really? You can’t just let me have something that doesn’t look and taste like old sneakers?”

  “No, because according to your results, you’re so full of sugar it’s a wonder you’re still capable of this piss and vinegar attitude, love. Honestly, they’re afraid of you developing gestational diabetes, among other things, so for the moment it’s healthy eating for you, unless you want to get sick.”

  So reasonable, and yet I’m not even a little mollified by his matter of fact nonsense. I’d like to see him grow three little barbarians at once on a diet of carrot food and tasteless shoe leather.

  “You can have a brownie after, if you’re a good girl and eat all your veggies, love,” he wheedles, and I grimace before nodding.

  The cowardly foursome made their escape while I was being distracted, so the only face I have to glare at now is one I love too much to be angry with for long.

  Handsome SOB.

  The hallowed brownie turns out to be the sugar-free variety that looks like a brown cow pat instead of a brick of joy, and I snarl, choking down the first bite before tossing it at his head.

  My husband, the ass, laughs so hard I have to wait for him to calm down, and then he kisses me to shut me up, giving me one of his rare, toe-curlingly sweet kisses.

  “Just try to behave and keep them in there a little longer, love. We want our boys healthy, don’t we?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Just do me a favor and don’t expect another kid anytime soon. I’m freakin’ exhausted, and knowing you, the next go round will be quads.”

  ***

  I wake two weeks later with a steel spike trying to dig its way out of my body and scream to holy hell when I realize something’s up with the terrible trio.

  “Lucian. Lucian! Wake up.”

  When he jumps out of bed, ready to swing at God alone knows what, I can’t stifle a puff of mirth and end up laughing till my belly contracts and leaves me panting in a moan that I’m sure sounds like the lowing of a cow.

  “Oh, Jesus,
what… Love! Oh, shit. Fuck!”

  The fact that he’s cursing calms me, and I take a deep breath, gritting my teeth against the pain streaking through my back, belly, and hips. I don’t say it, because I really don’t need him to lose his ever-loving mind yet, but the pain is nothing like the books describe labor to be.

  I feel more like I’m being ripped open from the inside out, and the pain is constant, not contractions.

  “Babe, wake Becky and get her to stay with the kids, and then I think you really need to get me to the hospital. Phone Doc Stephens and tell him I’m gonna need him there now.”

  It’s accomplished in under five minutes, and then I’m being lowered into the car, and we’re speeding down the streets as I feel the first gush of sticky wetness pool between my thighs.

  “I smell blood! Are you bleeding?” he yells, putting his foot flat and looking over at me at the same time.

  “Let’s just say…I’m…pretty sure…your leather seats…are ruined,” I pant, grabbing hold of the dash when he takes a sharp right turn and floors it through the curve.

  “Jesus Christ, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  By the time we get to the doors of the hospital I’m panicking and struggling not to cry. My crotch is covered in blood, along with his hands—he’d held my crotch the whole time, as if he could stem the flow—and I’m woozy.

  “She’s bleeding! Fucking do something!” he yells, grabbing me from the seat to run through the doors.

  “Put her here.”

  I feel the solid gurney beneath my back and hear the doctor’s voice fading in and out as the enormity of the situation hits me. I’m bleeding, a lot, from the smell and feel of things, and I’m losing focus.

  The only constant is the feel of his big, strong hands wrapped around one of mine, and the blue of his eyes as he runs beside the nurses to keep up, his breath sawing over my lips.

  And then it hits me. I haven’t told him yet. I could die and I haven’t told him.

  “Lucian.”

  “Don’t talk, love. Just stay with me. You’ll be fine. You will be.”