Page 26 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

My chest tightens, and heat creeps up my neck, sharp and humiliating. A familiar fear presses in.

Be careful.

Don’t flirt.

Don’t misunderstand.

Don’t give anyone anything they can twist.

Maybe that’s why this hurts so much. Because part of me, some stupid, hopeful part, thought last night meant I was finally allowed to exist without being misread.

I swallow. “Right. Of course.”

The truck turns down another road, narrower now, leading toward a cluster of houses tucked into the trees. One of them is smaller, neat but worn in, with a porch that looks like it’s been repaired more than once.

“That’s my mom’s place,” he says, nodding toward the first house. “We’re picking Evan up.”

I nod, hands clenched in my lap, trying to remind myself of the only thing that matters.

This job.

This child.

This chance.

Whatever happened last night… I have to be careful now because I won’t survive being misunderstood again.

“Okay.”

His mom answers the door before we even knock, wiping her hands on a dish towel like she was already on her way to meet us. She’s warm in the way only women who have raised children and survived life can be. Soft eyes. Sharp awareness. The kind of presence that misses nothing but doesn’t make you feel pressured for it.

“There you are,” she says to Wayne, relief flickering across her face before her gaze lands on me.

Panic blooms instantly.

And there it is again. That instinctive bracing, the old reflex telling me to stand straighter, smile carefully, don’t give anyone anything they can misread.

“And you must be June,” she says, her smile gentle and real.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say automatically. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

She laughs. “Oh, don’t do that. I’m Sandra.”

She steps aside, ushering us in, and the house wraps around me immediately. The smell of coffee, cinnamon, something sweet baking in the oven.

The place feels lived in. Safe.

And that alone makes my throat tighten.

Evan is on the floor in the living room, completely absorbed in his task, building something elaborate out of wooden blocks. His tongue pokes out slightly in concentration, curls bouncing when he shifts. He looks up when the door closes.

“Daddy!”

He launches himself at Wayne with complete, unquestioning trust.

Wayne catches him without hesitation, like this is the most natural thing in the world. This is the axis everything else rotates around.

His entire body changes. The tension drains out of him so visibly, it almost hurts to watch. His shoulders relax. His voice softens. He presses a kiss into Evan’s hair like he’s done it a thousand times without thinking.