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25

Verity

The room isdark when I jolt upright, patting the spot next to me. It’s filled with a hard, male body. Wicker.

I gasp. “The baby. Where’s Justice?” I shake him awake, shifting over to make sure I didn’t roll over him.

“Red,” Wick mumbles, coming more awake. He squints up at me through one blue eye. “What are you doing?”

“I was feeding him and fell asleep.” The panic rising into anguish, I shove him over, hands searching. “Oh my god, where is he?”

I’m hot, drenched in sweat, the front of my nightgown stuck to my skin. Wicker rises up next to me, searching the bed with his own clumsy hands.

“I’ve got him,” a whisper carries from the doorway, and when I whip my head around, I see Pace’s silhouette in the doorway. Relief rushes over me. I’m not the worst mother in the world. Just the most exhausted.

“Christ.” Wick shoves his hand in his hair. “Scared the shit out of me.”

I spy the tiny swaddled bundle in Pace’s arms as he slowly makes his way over. He’s shirtless and has been the case since we came home from the hospital, completely engrossed in our child. His dark eyes are fixed on Justice, a soft expression set on his face. “You fell asleep while nursing him, and when I came to put him in the bassinet, I realized he needed a change.” He grins down at the baby. “Once I got him bundled back up, he was dozing again so I just held on to him while I went over some homework to give you two a little time to sleep.”

“Thank you,” I say, noticing the time. Two and a half hours. That’s a record since we got home two weeks ago. “I obviously needed that.”

I’d love to say we’ve been a well-oiled machine, superstars who are killing it at this parenting thing, but the last two weeks have been a total blur. I’ve never been so tired in my life. My body aches, and the guys are grumpy as hell, frequently snapping at each other—and I’m snapping at them. And on top of that, there are the fluids…

So manydisgusting bodily fluids.

Although they’re all putting in daddy duty, Wicker and I agreed that Lex and Pace should try to keep the most normal sleep schedule since they’re both still in school. Even though that’s true, they pitch in constantly. I have no idea how moms with only one sleep-deprived dad manage it. Or no partner at all. They’re the real heroes.

“I’d tell you to go back to sleep,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed, “but I’m pretty sure he’s getting hungry.”

On cue, Justice squawks, and a heaviness followed by pinprick tingles tightens my nipples. This isn’t like before when the guys had to draw the milk out of me. Justice and I are in sync. When he’s hungry, my tits know it, and it’s not just a dribble. It’s a full-on flood.

“I’ll go get you a towel and a dry shirt,” Wick says, easing out of the bed.

I strip off the one I’m wearing, which is still damp from the last feeding, not to mention the hormonal sweat bath I had in my sleep. The fabric snags on my breast, and I wince from the pain. Pace’s nose wrinkles. “Still sore?”

I groan. “So fucking sore. God, I had no idea.” Chapped, peeling, aching. How did I ever think these things were for pleasure? “Okay,” I sigh, rolling on my side. This is the best way to feed at night. “I’m ready for him.”

Pace unrolls Justice from his blanket burrito, and his little fists start waving. The closer he gets to me, the more he starts fussing, little mouth already making sucking movements as he waits for food. Pace doesn’t quite hand him to me, but rolls him into my side, guiding his mouth to my dripping nipple. The first pull of suction hurts like a mother, but once he starts going, I just feel relief.

Pace takes that moment of stillness to duck down, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Here,” Wick says, climbing back into the bed. His hand arcs over me, and he gives me a small washcloth to keep my other boob from dripping milk on the little guy before he’s ready to swap sides. “You can change into the clean shirt when you’re done.” His voice is still sleep-thick and slurred, and when Wicker lays his head down, his eyelids immediately fall.

“Thank you,” I rest my head on the pillow, feeling the hormones surge through me. Feeding the baby is comforting to both of us, and at night, it’s hard not to fall asleep.

Wicker’s hand reaches out to blindly smooth my hair. “Rest, okay? Pace and I have this.”

“You sure?” I ask. Wicker may say he has this, but he’s a fast and heavy sleeper. He’ll conk out the minute we get quiet.

“Yep,” Pace assures, lingering at the end of the bed. “I have to get up in an hour anyway. Early practice. You two get as much sleep as you can.”

My eyes have already fluttered closed, soothed by the sucking motion of baby Justice and the fact I’ve got the best dads in the world watching over us.

I lie on the table,fifteen pounds lighter than I was the last time Lex examined me, and watch him move fluidly around the room. I swear all three of them have gotten more attractive since the baby came. He’s wearing these pants that are far too snug against his ass, and his sleeves are rolled up in that way that drives me crazy, veins and tendons shifting as he grabs for the clipboard.

As for me, well…

There’s no swell of life in my stomach, just saggy, scarred skin. My tits are huge—like,massive—but they’re painful and sore from overuse.Utilitarian.My once smooth skin is now splotchy and red. A strange rash showed up on my arms last week. Hormones, Lex tells me.Perfectly normal.