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Cash puffs his chest with a breath. “She’s been a bit off lately.”
Nevaeh clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably, like she knows something we don’t. I frown, lifting my chin in gesture of her face. “What’s that?”
She squeaks. “Nothing.”
“It’s something.”
She blushes. “Has she been craving a lot of weird food? Maybe smells something and either really loves it or really hates it.”
Cash’s eyes move to Nevaeh. “Why?”
“Has she been sick at all?”
“She had the flu last weekend, but she’s good now.”
Nevaeh nods, a small smile playing at her lips. “The flu.” A small laugh as her eyes move to Wrenlee, who has thoroughly demolished an entire enchilada, and is working on the second. “She reminds me of my cousin—when she was pregnant.”
My eyes bug, but Cash doesn’t change at all. I accuse, “You already suspect as much?”
He nods. “She has no clue, though. Shouldn’t the woman know?”
Nevaeh shrugs. “She might just be in denial. Or maybe she honestly hasn’t thought about it yet.”
“I’m going to have to bring it up,” Cash says. “Fucking hope she is.”
Then he’s walking away again, and I think—am I jealous?
No, I can’t be. That’d be crazy.
fifteen
Nevaeh
Wrenlee is the first to call it a night, after what had to have been a symphony of yawns, only adding to my theory that she’s pregnant. Still, it’s late when Kane closes the door behind the last guest—Tav—after he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek with a murmured, “Welcome to the family.”
Kane flips the lock on the front door before landing those incredible, should-be-illegal eyes on me. These eyes must be responsible for a thousand broken hearts. Maybe they’re the inspiration for the name of the band.
At the thought, I hear myself asking, “Why Devils Heartbreak?”
He levels me with those dang eyes. In response, I feel mine get shifty.
He asks softly, “What do you think?”
I can’t help but look at him, a smirk playing at my mouth. “I think it’s because you’re all killer handsome—devilishly handsome—and you all leave a trail of broken hearts in the aftermath of your devastation.”
“Creative.” He smirks. “But no.”
“So?” Rounding the island, I reach for my glass of wine and take a sip. “What’s the reason, then?”
“It’s personal.”
Air spills from my lungs at the crushing weight of sudden tension. Still, I push. “I’m wearing your ring. I’m going to be your wife. I think I should know the reason for your band name, no?”
He looks like he’s going to deny me, but when his eyes land on the ring he bought, he pauses. Then he says, “We’re all born of devils, Sunshine. So, we became devils in our own right. And the heartbreak is our own.”
I feel as though I’ve been punched. “How were you born of a devil?”
“My father isn’t a good man, but he’s my father,” is all he gives me.
