“She won’t stop cryin’. Won’t sleep. Barely eats. Just spits up and drools and throws shit. Andshits.”
I bite down a laugh and press my face to his chest to smother it.
“Ethel says she’s teething,” he grumbles. “But Christ, I don’t remember it being like this with the twins. Don’t remember them hating the world this fuckin’ much.”
“Well,” I say softly, my voice trying to sound steady even though my brain’s still short-circuiting from everything that’s happened in the past five minutes. “The twins were your sisters. You weren’t their parent. And you were still a kid.”
“I was thirteen when they were born,” he defends, fingers weaving through my hair.
It's down and curled by a curling iron today because I was so overoverthinkinghim, I spent hours blow-drying, straightening, and curling my hair in front of the same stupid TV show we binged when I was here, being a masochist to the extreme.
“This is pretty,” he hums, low and warm. “Miss your curls, though, baby.”
Baby.
The word settles something wild and frantic in my chest, anchoring it in place. I finally manage to pull back enough to meet his eyes, cupping his face as I search him.
“You haven’t slept, have you?”
He shakes his head in my hands, eyes closing.
“She showed up Monday,” he mutters. “Was gonna call you, but then my whole family showed, and the guys...”
He trails off, shrugging helplessly before pressing his face into my palm.
“Everyone hung out, getting to know her. Mom stayed two nights, but she had to take Gemma to the airport yesterday and got stuck in Rydell because of the storm. Hazel’s out of town with Ridge at some equipment sale up north.”
“Ridge?” I ask gently, sorting through all the pieces. “The ranch manager?”
He nods, something like guilt flickering across his face. “They handle most of the shit for the farm these days.”
“And the twins?” I ask, eyes narrowing as protectiveness swarms my system. “They aren’t at the big house alone with yourbuddies, are they?”
He snorts. “Fuck, no. Mom’s got them staying with a friend till she’s back tomorrow. Griff took Wilder to the airport this morning.”
I nod, the tension in my shoulders finally starting to ease. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye to Wilder. Your friends seem like good guys.”
His eyes snap open, arms tightening around me.
“They’re not that damn good,” he growls, and I catch the hint of possessiveness in his tone that sends shivers down my spine. “Don’t get any fuckin’ ideas, freckles.”
I scoff, stepping away—only to be yanked right back into his arms. My nose wrinkles.
“I want to hug you again,” I whisper, smiling faintly, “but you smell, Kade.” I tap his abs, grinning when they twitch under my hand. “Really bad.”
“I do not,” he grumbles defensively.
Aurora immediately starts crying again.
He winces, shoulders tightening as he glances down the hallway, tugging at his hair. “Shit, I need to—”
“You need to shower,” I interrupt firmly, planting my hands on my hips. “Maybe even bathe. With salts and lots of soap.”
He blinks at me.
“When’s the last time you ate? Or drank water?”
He glances out the window, eyes widening slightly. “The sun was coming up.”
