Page 58 of Penn

“You’ll know if something is wrong. And if she thinks something’s wrong but tries to talk herself out of it, bring her in. Mother’s intuition is real, but they can doubt themselves.”

“And when she goes into labor, will I be able to be in the room with her?”

“Absolutely. A good birthing partner is essential. Some men think making the child is as far as they need to participate, but this is also important.”

Making the child. Penn didn’t get to do that. But he’s taking on the responsibility as if he had.

“Do you have any questions, baby?” Penn asks.

I’m completely stunned, and all I can do is shake my head—no.

Penn stands and helps me down from the table after helping me wipe off the gel on my skin. We walk out to the lot, and he pulls me into his arms instead of leading us to the pickup.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just processing.”

“I didn’t overstep, did I? Asking if I could be in the delivery room?”

Smiling, I wrap my arms around his neck. “I didn’t know if you’d want to be in there.”

“And witness the miracle of our boy? Hell yeah, I do.”

His lips press against mine, and I struggle to process this. Our boy. He didn’t correct Dr. Alvarez when he called Penn Dad. He wants to be there when I push a baby out of my lady bits.

“Plus, I told you it was a boy,” he whispers as I laugh. “I’m so damn happy right now, Dixie.”

At this point, nothing he says should really surprise me, but it does. He’s been so steady through everything and present in ways I didn’t even expect Stephen to be when I first learned we were having a baby. But hearing everything Penn says reminds me just how much I’ve settled my entire life.

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. “I want you here for all of it. The birth. Everything before and after.”

“I meant what I said, Dixie. You aren’t alone,” he says, his hands framing my face with his thumbs brushing my cheeks.

For the first time, I actually believe that.

Chapter 22

Penn

The heat rises off the asphalt of the highway, and I’m surprised it’s not melting the rubber right off my boots. Or my tires.

I keep my grip loose on the handlebars as my thighs hug the vibrating frame of my bike. Rooster and Jethro lead the transport truck, and Pacino, Kannon, Capone, and I follow behind it.

It’s quiet. Too quiet, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. The calm before the storm, as they say. Except this storm will be bullets, not heavy rain.

My mind is still half stuck back at the house, thinking about Dixie and our boy in her belly. A son. Every night, I rest my hand on her belly, willing the boy to kick and remind me he’s in there, and I’ve gotten rather lucky the past few nights.

I have a family to get back to now. Dixie, our son, and Princess. A real family. That realization doesn’t make me soften. It makes me stronger. It makes me want to shove my fist through anyone who threatens the peace I have sleeping at home waiting for me.

It’s also a bit terrifying. For the first time in a long time, I have something to lose. Which is why I refuse to get sloppy on our runs.

The moon is almost full, but not quite. Considering the weird shit that happens during a full moon, I’m more than happy to avoid that. It’s pretty much a guarantee that something will go wrong.

There’s a lot more light thanks to the moon than usual, and I have to thank it for the glint of metal in the desert that catches my eye. A quick, sharp flash of light from behind what looks to be large boulders. It’s a reflection and absolutely not natural.

“Watch out!” I shout, but I’m too late.

A deafening crack echoes across the canyon, and the sound is like lightning hitting a tin roof. The transport truck veers violently to the left and into the desert sand, the front passenger tire flat as it rolls on the metal rim.