Page 95 of Desert Loyalties

Drake stiffens, stunned.

Then gently, carefully, he says, “Do you… not want this? It’s okay. If you’re not ready, we can—”

I jerk back, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

He blinks. “Okay,” he says slowly, unsure now. “Then… what’s wrong?”

I pull away just enough to look at him, wiping my face with the heel of my palm.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” I say, voice cracking. “I went in to get my IUD removed, and then I was going to come home and put on these stupid bright yellow sheets—”

Drake glances down at the bed. “These?”

“Yes!” I snap. “Because they’re ugly and happy and ridiculous and I wanted our baby to be conceived here. On them. When we were laughing. When we were free. So that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t end up with all the dark, twisty shit we carry.”

He gives me a look. Light teasing, trying to make me breathe again. “You think I’ve got a twisty personality?”

I raise a hand. “Hello? Double murderer over here. And I literally cheered when the prosecutor died. And I got drunk last night. Oh my God! Ilet you fuck mein front of a room full of our friends while I’m pregnant.” I shout, then immediately slap both hands over my face. “Oh God, it’s not even born yet and I’m already a terrible mother.”

Drake doesn’t laugh.

He reaches out and folds me into him again, strong arms around all my messy, cracked-open pieces.

“No, you’re not,” he says, quiet. Steady. “You’re going to be incredible. And this kid’s going to be so fucking lucky.”

“You’re really pregnant?” he says, like he still can’t believe it.

I nod. “Five weeks, maybe a little more. They found it during the ultrasound.”

His mouth curves into the tiniest smile, one that hits his eyes and wrecks me.

Then he lets out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“That bad?”

“No. Thateverything. That’s—” he laughs, almost stunned. “I almost went to prison for 25 years. And now I’m gonna be a dad?” He shakes his head like the universe finally got bored of screwing with him.

Then his eyes settle on me again, and the amusement fades into something more serious.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Do you… want this?”

I nod again, slowly. “Yeah. I mean, I know I didn’t plan it, but… yeah. I do.”

He exhales again; this time shakier. Almost relieved.

Then he lays his hand gently on my flat stomach

“Hey, little bean,” he murmurs. “I’m your dad. And I swear to God, no matter what happens, I’ll keep you and your mom safe.”

And something inside me just… breaks open. Not in fear. Not from grief. But from theknowing.

All this time, I thought survival was the goal. A roof over my head, food in my belly, these were enough. Theyhadto be enough.

But my time with the Horsemen taught me something else:

I can havemore.

A year ago, I was a broken college girl, halfway to partying myself into an early grave, all because I couldn’t let go of the demons I carried. Pain had become my compass. I had no home.