Page 2 of Beautiful When He Breaks

“Hoekom stoot jy my weg?” I murmur under my breath, thankful that no one else can speak the language I grew up with.

Someone cranks the music louder, and I take the opportunity to slip out of the room again. I detour toward the front of the house, telling myself I just need a minute to breathe without feeling like I’m being crushed under my own thoughts.

The late afternoon light filters through the tall windows, dust motes floating lazily in the air, and for a brief second, everything feels suspended, calm in a way the Sin Bin rarely is. That’s when I hear the knock, faint and distant, swallowed by the music and the noise, and I realize no one else even noticed. I want to ignore it, but then I hear a car speeding off, and I frown.

I hesitate for half a second, then head for the front door, my footsteps echoing in the quieter foyer. I pull it open, expecting to see one of the neighbors or maybe a delivery someone forgot about, but there’s no one there, just the empty porch and the quiet hum of the afternoon.

I’m already halfway through closing the door when something catches my eye. I look down, frowning, my brain lagging behind what I’m actually seeing, and my heart kicks hard against my ribs.

There’s a baby car seat sitting on the doorstep next to a diaper bag.

For a second, I honestly think I’m hallucinating and my stress finally snapped something in my head. But then I see the small blanket draped over it, the careful way it’s tucked in, and my stomach drops.

I crouch down slowly, every nerve in my body screaming, and peel the blanket back just enough to see a tiny face, pink and soft, and unmistakably real. The baby is asleep, mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling in that fragile way that makes my hands shake.

“Oh fuck,” I whisper, my voice coming out thin and panicked. I stand up so fast I almost knock myself backward, my pulse roaring in my ears as I stumble back into the house. “Uh—guys,” I call into the foyer, “Can someone come out here, like right fucking now?”

The music cuts abruptly, someone curses, footsteps thunder toward me, and within seconds, the entryway is packed with confused faces. Killian pushes to the front immediately, his expression sharp and alert, while Damien’s grin fades into something more cautious.

“What the hell is it?” Roman asks, already bracing himself, and I just point dumbly at the open door because I can’t seem to form a sentence that makes sense.

Killian steps outside without hesitation, crouching down in front of the car seat like this is just another problem to solve, and he lifts it carefully, one hand steadying the base as he brings it inside. “Someone grab the bag,” he orders.

The room goes eerily quiet, and I can hear my own heartbeat as he sets the car seat down on the entryway table. He pulls the blanket back fully, revealing the sleeping baby to everyone, and there’s a collective intake of breath that feels almost reverent.

“What the fuck,” Ryan mutters, his voice stripped of its usual humor. Sage’s hand flies to his mouth, Nate goes pale, and Damien just stares, stunned. Adrian sinks down onto the edge of the stairs, eyes wide, while Thorn looks between Killian and the baby.

Killian frowns as he looks at the car seat, then carefully reaches into the carrier and pulls out a plain envelope. He doesn’t open it right away, his jaw tightening before finally sliding a finger under the flap. The stack of papers crackles softly as he unfolds it, his eyes scanning the page, and I watch his expression change in real time, the controlled calm giving way to shock.

He looks up slowly, and when his eyes land on Eli, my heart drops so hard it feels like it might crack in two.

Eli frowns, confusion creasing his brow as he steps forward instinctively. “What is it?” he asks, his voice steady even though his hands twitch at his sides. Killian doesn’t answer him verbally; he just holds the envelope out.

Eli takes it with a puzzled look that doesn’t last long. I watch the color drain from his face as he reads, and his shoulders slumping.

“It’s… mine,” Eli croaks. “It’s my baby.”

There’s a collective inhale and a few muffled curses, but I can’t look at anyone but Eli.

My Eli—the one who held me up at my mom’s funeral, the one who snuck out with me at midnight to see shooting stars, the one I’ve loved so fucking stupidly for so long—standing with a letter trembling in his hands, eyes wild with shock and fear.

He looks up and immediately meets my gaze, but all I can see is the terror swimming in his blue eyes. “Jules…” he whispers, and I walk to him without hesitation, pulling him into my arms.

He sags against me, and I wince because of my ribs, but I push the pain down because Eli needs me. One hand comes up to the back of his neck automatically, the other bracing his spine, like I’ve done a hundred times before when life knocked him sideways.

I lower my mouth to his temple without caring who’s watching. “Hey,” I murmur, keeping my voice steady even though my own pulse is out of control. “Breathe. Ek het jou, Liefling. I’ve got you.”

His forehead drops against my collarbone. I feel the tremor there before I hear it, the shaky inhale he tries to swallow down. “Don’t leave,” he whispers.

I don’t even blink. “Not a chance.”

For the first time since Celeste ghosted him, he leans fully into me without reservation. And I hold him tighter, anchoring him in place while the rest of the house scrambles around us, and a new life breathes softly a few feet away.

2

Eli

The letter shakes in my hands.