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Chapter thirty-nine

Patrick

Alexander giggles sometimes now.

Not all the time. Just little moments here and there when he thinks I’m not listening.

Sneaky little thing.

He only laughs for Levana. And I don’t blame him. She’s… well, she’s everything.

It does pinch my heart a little because I miss him so damn much. But I get it. I’m the one who got us in this situation in the first place, and she’s the one who’s taking us out of it.

I shift the curtain and peek out of the tiny gap.

Big, fat flakes of snow are catching in the trees, bending the branches.

I hope it doesn’t stop. I hope it sticks.

If it keeps going and builds again, then we’ll get snowed in. The roads will be blocked, the power lines down. There’ll be no way out. And no way in.

That means no risk of Levana being taken, no risk of someone coming in and stealing her away from me and our family.

No Elliot. No hospitals. No questions.

I wish I could say no Mara too, but she hasn’t stopped.

Every time I walk past that door, she’s there—waiting.

“She’s going to leave you.”

“You know she is.”

“She’s going to run.”

But she’s wrong. Levana won’t leave.

She still sleeps next to me every night. Still lets me hold her, kiss her, fuck her. She still lets me talk to the babies—press my mouth to her belly and whisper things only they can hear. She even talks to me about the birth now. About what it’ll be like. What she wants. What she’s scared of.

She’s not going anywhere.

A long, heavy sigh from across the room pulls my attention.

Levana’s on the living room floor, cross-legged in front of the fire, one hand braced on her belly, the other resting on her notepad, eyes fixed on the same scrawled page she’s been staring at for an hour.

“I’m stuck, Patrick,” she says softly. “There’s nothing else I can do.”

I cross the room and lower myself down next to her. The fire snaps quietly, and soft, dreamy music filters through the room. Her pen’s fallen beside the notebook, but she hasn’t touched it in a while.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

She nods. “Patrick, we need organs. I can’t get them from thin air.“

My chest tightens. I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off before I can start.

“I do have an idea, though.”

“What?” I ask, brow furrowing.

“Rather than risking sneaking into the funeral home without knowing what’s even there, I could log into the system from here. Check the dimensions. See who’s been brought in. Look for anyone who might match Alexander’s size.”

I don’t like the sound of that. How would that even happen? This feels like a trap.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” I ask.

She hesitates for a minute. “Well… I’d need my phone.”

No.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Patrick.”

“No, Levana. What if you tell Elliot to come get you?” I snap. “What if the second you log on to the system, someone tracks you here? What if this whole thing gets taken away because of one stupid mistake?”

It’s starting again.

It’s been happening in bursts for days.

The pulse behind my eyes, blurring the edges of my vision.

The shaking in my hands.

The static threading through my skull like white noise turned sharp.

My thoughts won’t fucking stay still.

They don’t line up. Don’t make sense.

Just fire off—fast, frantic and jumbled, crashing into each other like a dozen voices talking over themselves in a room I can’t escape.

She wants the phone.

She wants to log in.

She wants them to take her.

She wants to leave.

“Don’t you think Elliot would’ve already come and got me if he wanted to? It’s not hard to find out where people live, Patrick.”

The words land like a blow to the brain, and my world comes to a stop.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says quickly, hands half raised, doubling back on what she just said. “I didn’t—I just meant—he’s not a threat. Not like that. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Too late. Electricity is searing its way through every single nerve and vein.

“You can’t leave me,” I mutter, eyes darting to the door, the window, anywhere. “You can’t—I’ve done everything right, I’ve been good to you—and he can’t take you, because I love you—”

“Patrick,” she says, firmer now. “Stop. Look at me.”

“You can’t fucking leave.”

She snatches my hands into hers and squeezes them.

“Breathe,” she says, low and even. “Come on. Breathe with me.”

My hands are still shaking. Jaw clenched tight. But her grip is warm and solid.

The fire behind throws soft gold across her face, catching on the auburn strands of her hair, and the green of her irises which are locked right onto mine.

“Patrick,” she says quietly. “No one’s finding us. No one’s coming. I’m just trying to help. But how am I supposed to help if you won’t let me?”

I suck in a harsh, ragged breath, trying to soothe myself as I look down at our fingers, then back at her.

“I didn’t want to do this yet,” I whisper. “Not like this.”

Her brows furrow as she narrows her eyes onto me. “Do what?”

I don’t answer, just push up from the floor and twist the dial on the little speaker so the music drifts louder into the room. I huff a quiet laugh when I realise the song that’s playing—I Only Have Eyes For You by the Flamingos. It’s unplanned, but completely perfect.

Meant to be.

I turn back to her and hold out my hand. “One dance,” I say. “Humour me?”

She groans “Patrick…”

“Please?” I say, wiggling my fingers, coaxing her. “For me?”

That smile I love so much creeps across her face, and she lets me pull her up from the floor

My arms wrap around her shoulders as she wraps her own around my waist, belly pressing lightly into mine.

I rest my chin on the top of her head as we sway.

“This reminds me of the time we danced at the lake,” she says on a dreamy sigh.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” she says softly. “You know… I wanted to kiss you so badly that night. But I panicked.”

My heart stutters in my chest.

“Oh, baby,” I murmur, squeezing her a little tighter. “You should’ve.”

“I know. I know.”

“I’m so thankful for you,” I say quietly, brushing my lips against her hair. “I mean it. I never thought I’d get to feel this again. Love like this.”

Her arms tighten around my back.

“You’ve given me so much,” I whisper. “More than you even know. And I know this hasn’t been easy. But I love you, Levana. And I love our babies and everything you’ve given to me, them, our entire family.”

I swallow hard and let my eyes close for a second as I press a kiss to the crown of her head.

This will be the last thing, one last promise that she’ll be anchored to me.

One hand leaves her shoulders and slips into my pocket, fingers curling around the cool metal of my grandmother’s ring. I’ve had it on me for months, just searching for the perfect opportunity.

This isn’t perfect, but it’s now or never.

The ring is delicate but strong, the gold band soft with age, the diamond set in a halo of tiny sapphire stones. Mara adored it, but said it was too precious to wear, so it stayed tucked away in a box for years.

I guess fate knew better.

It was always meant for Levana.

I don’t kneel.

I just slow our movement and pull back enough to look her in the eyes. Her hands move from my waist to press against my chest instead.

“I know this probably isn’t how you pictured it. No candles, no grand speech, no fancy dinner,” I say. “And I’m sorry for that.”

She blinks up at me, confusion etched into her brow.

“But I can’t lose you,” I say. “I won’t. You said you’re not going anywhere. So don’t. Not ever.”

I hold up the ring between us.

“Be my wife, Levana Marie Foster. Let’s make this permanent. Let’s make it safe. I mean, legally you can’t take someone’s wife away, right?”

The room goes still.

She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Just… stares up at me like I’ve knocked the air out of her.

“Baby,” I say, voice wavering. “Please don’t leave me hanging here.”

Her lips part, not a single sound slipping through them.

But after a minute, she starts nodding. Once, twice, and then again, faster.

“God, yes,” she breathes.

It punches through me.

“Yes?” I echo, stunned.

“Yes,” she says, nodding slower now. “I’ll marry you.”

I slide the ring onto her finger with shaky hands, then pull her in and kiss her. She’s warm and soft in my arms, and for a second, everything slows. It’s just her mouth, her breath, her body pressed into mine.

She said yes.

My fiancée.

My wife.

My fucking everything.

I shut my eyes and press our foreheads together. “Thank you. Thank you, baby. You don’t know what this means to me…”

The sound of floorboards creaking upstairs threatens to pull my attention away from this perfect moment.

Warmth. Fire. Ring. Mine.

A laugh drifts down, scratching like fingernails on the inside of my skull.

“ You really think that means she’s staying?”

I grip Levana’s waist a little harder.

She said yes. She said yes. She said yes.

“So did I,” Mara hisses. “ Didn’t stop me from leaving.”

Her laughter curls through the ceiling like smoke.

Levana shifts in my arms and I hold her tighter, like I can shield her from the sound if I just press her close enough.

My lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Just ignore her, baby. Okay?”

She tenses slightly. “What?”

“Don’t listen to her,” I murmur. “Just don’t let her words in.”

She doesn’t pull away, but her breathing shifts.

Fuck. She’s scared again. Mara’s scaring her.

“She doesn’t know you. Not really. She just wants to get in our heads,” I tell her.

Her silence strangles me, so I pull back enough to meet her eyes. The firelight flickers over her face, painting her in warmth, casting shadows under her lashes.

“She just doesn’t want you here,” I say quietly. “But you’re everything. So please. Don’t let her poison this.”

“I won’t,” she says, nodding, eyes searching mine desperately. “I won’t listen. I promise.”

But Mara’s still laughing through the floorboards, the walls, my bones.

I shut my eyes.

Tight. Dark.

Breathe.

“Levana Marie Dalton,” I whisper.

Her fingers stroke the sides of my face, fingertips smoothing beneath my eyes, over the curve of my jaw.

“Patrick Dalton,” I murmur. “Hattie Dalton. Milo Dalton.”

I repeat them. Again. A little firmer. A little faster.

“Levana Marie Dalton. Patrick Dalton. Hattie and Milo Dalton.”

Her thumb brushes my cheekbone and her other hand cups the side of my neck.

“Say it with me,” I whisper. “Say it with me.”

“Levana Marie Dalton,” she murmurs. “Patrick Dalton. Hattie and Milo Dalton.”

Her fingers keep stroking my cheeks, slow and soothing, like she’s tracing the shape of the life I’m begging to hold onto.

“We’re a family,” she says gently. “Mommy and Daddy, and two perfect babies.”

I blow out a ragged breath, eyes still shut, forehead resting against hers.

“We’re engaged,” she adds. “We’re safe. We’re happy.”

Her words wash over my nerves like warm water.

“Nothing’s going to take us apart,” she breathes. “Not Elliot. Not Mara. Not anyone.”

I nod against her.

Still breathing. Still clinging. Still here.