Page 189 of Wicked Brutal

My throat burns. “Tobias needs me.”

“So does our baby.” That one hurts. “And so do I.”

I close my eyes. Ryan’s hand finds mine.

“We get Tobias out,” I whisper. We keep the baby safe and we stop my dad and Victor.”

I look at him. His fingers tighten around mine.

“All three,” he says. I know exactly what he means. Tobias. The baby. Me.

My eyes sting. “All three.”

From the main house, Tobias’s voice carries faintly through the yard. “I SAID EDGEWOOD NEEDS MORE TRUCKS.”

Ryan closes his eyes. I start laughing. A second later, Cassandra yells something we can’t make out.

Then Walter: “LET THE MAN SPEAK.”

Ryan looks at me. “Think the interview’s going well.”

“Pulitzer incoming.”

He stands and holds out his hand. I take it.

Before he opens the door, I stop him. “Ryan.” He looks back. “If you ever throw my notebook on the floor again, I will kill you.”

His expression is completely serious. “Fair.”

“And the writing?”

“It’s fucking good.”

“Correct.”

“And I’m still sorry.” I hold his gaze. This time, I believe him without needing anything else.

“Good.”

We walk back toward the house together. But tucked safely inside Ryan’s pocket is the first picture of our baby. Inside Cassandra’s office is another one waiting for Tobias. And for the first time since I saw the word Switzerland, the countdown in my head isn’t the only thing I can hear. Now there’s something louder.

Fast-fast-fast-fast-fast.

A heartbeat. Proof that in the middle of all this fucked-up shit, something is still growing.

So am I.

Apparently, sixty-two degrees in March is all it takes for the entire population of Edgewood Prep to lose its fucking mind. Last week there was still snow piled against the stone wall behind the athletic building. Today the sun is out, the sky is painfully blue, and every table outside the dining hall is full because New England teenagers have collectively decided we’re experiencing summer. Half the guys have their sleeves shoved up. Girls have abandoned coats on the backs of chairs. Some idiot is lying shirtless on the grass like sixty-two degrees isn’t still sixty-two fucking degrees.

I’m not complaining. After months of gray skies and the sun disappearing before practice even ends, it feels good. Even better because our table is far enough from everyone else that we can talk without somebody immediately hearing us. Within reason.

Cat is sitting sideways across Kaiden’s lap despite the empty chair directly beside him. Penny is tucked against Xander’s side, his arm hooked around her shoulders while she eats fries off his plate. Becca and Danny are across from them, holding hands beneath the edge of the table.

Then there’s me and Iz.

Iz looks around. “Pathetic.”

Cat glances at him. “What’s pathetic?”