Page 30 of Hideaway Whirlwind (Big Boys of Berenson Trucking #4)

“I know that,” Davis says, the grin wiped off his face, but not for long. “But just so you know, I’d’ve done the same if Goldie tried to leave with Lily.”

“Bunch of stalker freaks,” I grumble, inching backward and up the porch steps as Elliott advances, though every muscle in my body wants to go to him and beg him to take us back to the cabin. Goldie was wrong. It’s me who is confused, not the kids.

“Bunch of sass-back hellions,” Davis shoots back with laughter in his voice, not truly offended. “And yup. Better get used to it.” Davis almost pats my shoulder, but a growl from Elliott and my shying away from his touch have Davis thinking better of it.

My stomach drops to my feet at the way the kids cling to Elliott while Sydney gives him every word she has kept from me since coming to stay with Goldie.

“Elliott,” I say in a forced, firm voice, steeling myself when I take a protective stance in front of Davis since Elliott is staring daggers at him over my head. “Elliott!” I snap my fingers to get his attention.

The largest, strongest, most terrifying man I have ever met, who looks to be plotting Davis’s imminent death, drops his deep blue eyes to mine, his features immediately lightening.

“Birdie,” he breathes out, his boots nudging the tips of my toes.

He stoops to press his forehead to mine. “I missed you.”

A whine makes its way up my throat at the comforting smell of him, the tension in my shoulders already relaxing as I melt into his solid presence.

I grab his jacket and tip my chin up, letting our lips brush in a moment of weakness.

“Damn you, Elliott,” I murmur, then spin and shoulder past Davis inside .

Elliott

She kissed me . Birdie kissed me instead of demanding I leave. The plan is working.

“By all means, come inside,” Davis says sarcastically when I bulldoze my way into his house, my eyes immediately alighting on Kendall when Birdie picks her up off the living room floor.

“Fuck off, Davis.” I move around the couch, only stopping when Birdie backs up, holding her hand over Kendall’s head so she’s facing away.

“Yeah, fuck off, Davis,” Dustin repeats, sticking out his tongue.

I want to laugh, but Birdie and Goldie are wearing identical pissed-off expressions. To set a good example, I clench my jaw twice before forcing myself to say, “I apologize.” It’s like razor blades in my throat.

Davis smirks and closes the door. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“I apologize,” I repeat through clenched teeth, “for swearing at you.”

“And…?”

I narrow my eyes. “And for barging inside your home.”

Oh, he’s loving this. “And…?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” I growl.

Dustin says, “Yeah, quit—”

“Enough,” I whisper to Dustin.

“But you said it first!”

I set him and his sister down on their feet, then crouch.

We’re not quite at eye level, even with my back bowed, so Dustin still has to look up, wearing his mama’s adorable scowl.

“ Davis is a friend,” I say, though some friend he is, stealing my family away .

“And we were both in the wrong for being rude to him. I apologized, and now it’s your turn. ”

“Sorry,” Dustin spits after I have to repeat myself, though he doesn’t look the least bit contrite.

“That’s my boy,” I say, standing and ruffling Dustin’s hair, which earns me a wide grin and a hug around my leg.

“That’s it?” Davis asks.

I grunt and turn away, done with Davis and this bullshit conversation, because I’m not the least bit sorry, either.

Some friend I am . Sydney and Dustin are right on my heels like Rain and Sky are on Storm’s as I make my way through the room.

Goldie and Birdie look up from their heated, whispered exchange, and when Birdie shakes her head, Goldie moves toward the kitchen with Rowan on her hip, giving me the stink eye.

With both hands free now, I can slip one around Birdie’s waist and cradle the back of Kendall’s head.

And when her mama finally allows Kendall to twist around at my silent plea, the sight of my little girl’s big brown eyes going wide, so happy to see me, brings tears to my own. So does her babbling of Papa, Papa !

“Can I hold her?” I ask. “Please, Birdie. I just need to hold her.”

When Birdie loosens her grip and allows me to lift Kendall into my arms, it’s as if I had been drowning in a black lake of dread, gasping for air, and all of a sudden, I’m able to feel the sun on my face and take my first full breath.

“Thank you,” I whisper, closing my eyes and kissing the top of Kendall’s head.

“Thank you.” My chest and shoulders shake as I try to suppress my reaction to having them all by my side again, but there’s no hiding it.

It was silly to think I could, especially when Birdie lays her hand on my cheek.

I turn to kiss her palm, and then I have my nose buried back in Kendall’s hair.

* * *

The fried chicken is cold and has to be reheated by the time everyone sits down for dinner with a country-western playlist turned low on a Bluetooth speaker in the background.

Though I haven’t been invited to do so, I pull out the chair beside Birdie and sit my smug ass down with Kendall on my left knee.

Birdie hops up and moves to the opposite side of the table, so I stand, ready to switch sides as well.

Birdie pinches her lips, moving back to her original seat on my right, all while Davis looks on with a laugh, plating up Goldie and Lily’s dinner first.

Birdie picks at her chicken while I sit, enthralled, listening to Dustin and Sydney talk over each other.

I hadn’t been able to eat much with them being gone, too depressed to sit alone in my kitchen, and I eat up their every word with more excitement than I do my first and second helpings when Birdie reloads my plate.

Their chatter grows louder when they move on to asking about the dogs.

“You should see them,” I say. “I swear, the puppies are already twice the size—”

Birdie elbows me hard in my side, though I’m sure it hurt her more than it did me, since she rubs her elbow afterward.

“Can we see them? Can we? Please, please, please,” the kids beg, both looking at their mama with the matching juts of their bottom lips and big, rounded eyes.

Birdie looks like she wants to stick something sharper in my side.

“Maybe in the morn—” I start to say, only to get another jab of her elbow. “Or later in the eve—for crying out loud.” I push my chair back and haul Birdie out of hers onto my right knee so she can’t do herself any more damage, only for my chair to groan under our combined weight and collapse.

I end up sprawled on the floor, having cracked the back of my head on it, sharp wooden pieces of the chair digging into my spine and ass with Kendall and Birdie atop me.

While all the kids hoot and howl with laughter, bringing a foreign smile to my face, Goldie is out of her seat and helping Birdie up with a look of concern.

Birdie takes a moment to double-check that Kendall is unharmed, but she doesn’t spare me a glance before she rushes down the hallway, her hand on her lower belly.

I take off like a shot after her and push my way into the hall bathroom before she can slam the door shut in my face.

“Go away,” she says, her chin quivering.

“Did you hit your head?” I turn her around, slipping my fingers into her loose hair to check for any lumps on her scalp. I don’t care about the pounding in the back of mine, but I certainly care if she hit hers.

Birdie spins and slaps my hands away. “Stop it! I’m fine. I just need a moment—”

“What about your back?” My mind turns to static when I spin her right back around, yank up her oversized maroon T-shirt that she’s cropped—one that I gave her—and check for any splinters or angry red marks.

“Stop it! Stop touching me!” Birdie twists away, which is perfect, since I need to check her front, too.

As the static intensifies, everything but the sight of Birdie dims around me. I know I’m acting crazy, but I have to check. I have to know she’s ok. I crash to my knees and yank the waistband of her leggings down to her thighs. “You didn’t bump your stomach, did you?”

“Stop—!”

“Please tell me the baby is ok.” I kiss one side of her belly, then the other, pushing the front of her T-shirt up higher, searching and hoping to feel the baby kick.

“Fucking stop touching me!” Birdie screams, the sound echoing off the walls and finally snapping me out of my panicked frenzy.

Dull sounds from outside the bathroom sharpen, and something slams against the door that whacks open against the soles of my boots.

When I sit back on my heels, Birdie lurches sideways, hunched over and yanking her leggings up, tears streaming down her mottled red and white face.

She hugs herself, fear plain in her features, when she climbs into the bathtub to get as far from me as possible.

I plunge headfirst back into the lake of dread. “Birdie…”

“I told you to stop!” She heaves in a breath to scream, “You didn’t stop!”

Someone shoves hard against the door again, and when I move my feet out of the way, it flies open to crash against the wall, the doorknob punching a hole in the drywall.

The booming bass of the Bluetooth speaker vibrates through the floor, playing loud enough to rattle our teeth.

Davis steps back, rubbing his shoulder, and Goldie leaps past me, climbing into the bathtub, crouching when Birdie slides down the tiled wall.

When Goldie hugs her, Birdie drops her head forward and cries.

It’s a keening sound that chills me to my bones.

Goldie turns and shouts, “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back, or I swear to god, Elliott, I swear— ”

“Birdie…” I say, slowly rising to my feet. “I’m so sorry.”

Goldie points to the door. “Get out!”