Page 50 of Darkwater Lane

“Like what? Anything we can help with?”

“Last night, I caught her scrubbing the seals on the dishwasher,” Javi says.

I laugh. “When I was pregnant with Lanny, I steam-cleaned all the mattresses and mopped the walls. Hormones are no joke.”

Kez gets a thoughtful look on her face.

“No mopping the walls,” Javi says, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

She frowns and presses her lips together as if biting back a response. It won’t surprise me in the least if I find out tomorrow that she was up in the middle of the night with a bucket and rag attacking the baseboards.

“We brought dinner,” Javi says, changing the subject. “And picked up some groceries to tide you over for a bit.” He starts toward the truck bed, which is piled with bags. Kez moves to join him, and he playfully swats her away.

“No lifting,” he reminds her.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not an invalid,” she grumbles. “You know I hate feeling useless.”

He takes the bags from her. “You’re not useless; you’re growing our child. Now go and relax while you still can.”

“I could use a break,” I tell her. “Let’s go sit on the porch.”

After unloading the truck, Javi, Sam, and the kids get started on heating up dinner, and I smile at their chatter as Lanny and Connor fight over who’s in charge of chopping the vegetables for the salad. I grab a couple of drinks from the fridge and slip outside. Despite the chill in the air, Kez sits out on the deck, her feet up on the railing as she leans her head back, eyes closed for a brief rest.

I hand her a bottle of water and crack open a beer for myself.

“I got you a present.” Without opening her eyes, she reaches down next to her chair and grabs a gift bag. She lifts it in the air toward me. “Welcome home.”

“Kez, you shouldn’t have.”

She shrugs. “The minute I saw it, I thought of you.”

I pull out the tissue paper and find a box at the bottom of the bag. I open it to find a large folding utility knife. It’s pink, and the handle is carved with delicate flowers. I can’t help myself, I laugh.

“A girl can’t have too many defensive weapons,” she says.

“This is true,” I tell her. I tuck the knife into my pocket and then pull a seat around to sit next to her. She shifts, sharing her blanketwith me. I sigh, my muscles aching from the frantic packing over the past seventy-two hours.

“So, how are you really feeling?” I ask.

“Terrified. I told Javi last night that I changed my mind about having kids.”

“And what did he say?”

“That it’s a little too late for that.”

I laugh. “He’s got a point.”

She sighs and looks out toward the lake. “I’m not ready to give birth. And it’s not just the physical aspect of having this child. But so long as they’re inside me, I can take care of them. Once they’re out in the world…” She absently runs a hand over her bump. “It’s just hard when you’ve seen the worst of people. Knowing that’s the world I’m introducing them to.”

She rolls her head to look at me. “Does it ever get easier? Does that terror ever go away?”

I think about how many times I check the app that tracks my children’s locations. How my heart jumps any time my phone rings and my kids aren’t home. I remember the panic attack I felt when I saw Lanny’s college acceptance letters and realized she might be leaving home sooner than I expected. “I wish I could tell you yes.”

“Thanks for making me feel better,” she grumbles.

“You can’t always protect your kids, but you can be their safe space. You’re the first person they turn to for comfort. When they’re young, your smell, your touch, your hugs—they can fix anything. It’s like magic.”

“And when they’re older?” Kez prods.