Page 36 of Hampton Holiday Collective

“Oh no. That’s not all on me! Dem already knows that I amnotbreastfeeding,” I declare. “No freaking way. I love my boobs too much.” I shiver, thinking about last night and how much Dempsey loves them, too.

Daphne laughs and waves her hand dismissively. “That’s fair. It’s your choice.” She smiles and peeks over at her kids with their puzzle again. “But please don’t be resistant to help. From us, from Dempsey… you’re going to need it. Accepting it gracefully will make things easier on everyone.”

Chapter 28

Dempsey

“Thisisridiculous,”Igrouse, watching my brother position another log in the center of the tree stump. “Why can’t you buy firewood like a normal person? Hell, I’ll buy it for you and have it delivered to the house if it means we can go inside and you stop this nonsense.”

I shove my hands deeper into my coat pockets, puffing out a breath as I watch him raise the ax again.

“There’s this guy on TikTok…”

I glare at him, already exasperated by the ridiculous explanation I know he’s going to offer. No reason he could give is good enough to justify standing outside in Ohio, on December thirtieth, chopping logs like he’s a goddamn lumberjack.

“Don’t judge me!” he refutes when he looks up and catches my surly gaze. “Daphne likes the TikTok log guy. And I like doing things that get my wife all hot and bothered.” He whips out his phone then and turns the camera to selfie mode while slinging the ax over one shoulder. He makes a ridiculous face and snaps a picture, then another. “It’s not like I made you come out here,” he adds without looking up from the screen.

“You’re right. You didn’t.” Frustrated as hell, I turn to the house.

“Wait,” he calls out before I make it two feet. “Whyareyou out here?”

His question is so sincere—as if it has only now occurred to him that I’m not out here just to shoot the shit and watch him recreate internet thirst traps.

I freeze in place and debate with myself for a long moment.Do I really want to go through with this? Sighing, I circle back to the conclusion I landed on earlier: something’s got to give. And I sure as hell don’t know what to do. I’ll take any and all advice at this point. Even if it means suffering through my brother’s lumberjack performance and asking him for help.

“It’s about Maddie,” I admit.

He takes one look at my sorry state—at the desperation I’m sure is rolling off me in waves—and wedges his ax into the middle of the stump before taking a seat on a covered patio chair and patting the spot beside him.

“Sit. Tell Dr. Haas what’s troubling you.”

I would punch him in the face, but then I’d have to explain the black eye to his kids.

“You’renotthat kind of doctor,” I scold, but I drop down beside him anyway.

He lets the jibe roll right off him, waiting silently for me to continue with his elbows on his knees and his eyes on me.

“Maddie’s miserable. I’ve never seen her like this in all the years we’ve been together. And I don’t know how to fix it.” I let out a long breath and squeeze the back of my neck. “It’s not just the physical stuff—she’s so unhappy all the time. I don’t know what to do. I can’t help but feel like I did this to her.”

He gives me a smirk, and that’s the last fucking straw.

I wrap my arm around his neck, locking his head in place and grinding my knuckles into his scalp. “You know what I mean,” I grouch, noogying him hard, then releasing him with a shove.

He grunts, sits up straight, and fusses with his hair for a long-ass time before he replies. “Newsflash for you, bro. Maddie’s miserable. But you’re insufferable these days, too.”

Tell me something I don’t know, asshole.

“You want to know what I think?”

Yes. That’s why I’m fucking out here. But I’m not interested in stroking the ego of “Dr. Haas,” so I stare at him, deadpan, and wait for him to continue.

“I think you need to pump the brakes. Let go of your expectations and all your plans. Admit that you’re both scared—”

“I’m not scared!” I counter in frustration.

“Dumpy.”

Fuck.