Or maybe because she’s her, and I’m quickly becoming addicted to all things Georgia Walker.
She’s chaos. Sharp tongue, quick temper, a walking contradiction of compassion and bite. And I fucking love sparring with her. Love the way she challenges me—pushes back, never flinches.
But this…thing… in my chest. This…burn…It wasn’t just heat. It was something else. Something I don’t know how to name.
Which means it’s for the best Georgia’s out of my life and moving on, just like she said she would.
Temporary.
Because in a few weeks, my life’ll be anything but temporary. If things keep going as they are, soon enough, I’ll have a kid.
A kid who I’ve spent every day getting to know.
The nurses told me everything they could—how to bathe a baby that’s not quite yours without making it weird, how, what and when to feed her, milestones she’ll have coming up, what kind of bed and shit I need for a nursery I have nowhere to put,and even how to encourage her to finally talk, despite what she’s been through.
Despite it—like her entire world wasn’t wrecked in a breath.
I’ve fallen for the tiny, little thing. She’s sweet. A giggling bundle wrapped in barely-there curls that match mine. She loves blocks, especially when I trip over them and cry in pain. Makes her lose her mind with laughter.
She gets grumpy when she doesn’t have her feet covered—which I learned isn’t normal for babies. Apparently, hating socks and shoes is a world-wide baby phenomenon. But Aurora loves those tiny socks, and I find it so fucking cute, it makes me want to cry all over again.
I’m a sap where she’s concerned, and she’s not even mine yet.
“Jesus Christ. He’s falling apart, isn’t he?” Griff mutters. “Look at ’em. He’s miles away.”
“I think he’s just sleeping standing up,” Wilder whisper-hisses, snapping in my face. “Wake up, big boy!”
I slap his hand and blink back to the present.
Griff’s leaning against the chipped Formica bar, back to the living room, rolling a water between his bear paws as he stares me down. It’s the same look he used to give me in the army right before I got assigned some bullshit task.
Wilder elbows in beside him, bumping the six-foot-five bastard off balance.
“Fuck off,” Griff grumbles, downing his water in one long drink.
Wilder cackles like the feral psycho he is and props his chin on his fist. “Nah, I’m comfy right here, big man.”
As one, they turn to me, eyes sharp, seeing too fucking much.
There’s a breeze drifting in through the open window behind them, but sweat still breaks out along my spine. My skin itches and my thigh throbs, like just looking at my best friends reminds my body what we all went through together.
For one wild second, I consider throwing myself off the roof just to get away.
Might even get some sleep in the hospital.
But of course, a peaceful coma is way too much to hope for when these assholes are involved. Wilder would probably curl up on my gurney with me, and Griff would sing until I woke up.
“So,” Wilder drawls, tapping his fingers against his annoyingly clean-shaven jaw. He tilts his head, messy blond hair flopping into his eyes. “What’s new with you?”
I swallow hard and nearly choke, because apparently my mouth is the Sahara. “Georgia called you, didn’t she? She told you?”
It’s the only thing that makes sense.
She took Griff’s card. Said she needed to verify my job. That was over a week ago. Of course, she called. She’s professional, punctual, and perfect. I, on the other hand, am struggling to stay awake, keep my shit together, and haven’t told a single soul what’s been happening.
“I don’t know,” Griff says slowly, green eyes narrowed. “Tell uswhat, Archer?”
“And who’s Georgia?” Wilder pipes in, all curiosity and faux-innocence. “That’s a pretty name. Not sure I would have forgotten it if I’d heard it before.” He blinks up at our forever Sargent. “What about you, Griff?”
