Page 30 of Oathbreaker

“Just support her head,” Banks says gently, most likely noticing my hesitant movements.

I’m fascinated by her, so small and innocent, but also powerfully important to my friend. I shift, adjusting her so we’re both a little more comfortable and it’s amazing how sturdy she is. She’s small and delicate but simultaneously hardy.

Another wave of regret.

Guilt.

Shame.

I missed all of this because I was selfish. In the moment, I thought I was being altruistic, that they would understand as soon as I was done with training and could explain. I didn’t want them to try to talk me out of something so dangerous, because it felt like that was my destiny. Fighting for some theoretical cause that, in reality, means so much less than all of this.

Friends.

Family.

The incredible life they’ve built.

And I fucking missed all of it.

Dammit.

“Wow,” I breathe finally, continuing to stare into Maisy’s precious little face. “My best friend has a kid.” I look up at him. “She’s beautiful.”

He smiles. “She is.”

“And now there’s another on the way.” Royal’s voice makes us both look up, and he smiles. Jade’s on his lap and he has one hand splayed across her stomach.

“What the hell?” Banks asks, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were going to announce it tonight. We wanted to wait until we were all together.”

“Congratulations.” Banks immediately holds out his hand and Royal smacks it with his since Jade is still on his lap.

“Congratulations,” I say, also extending my hand. It feels weird for Royal to smack it, our eyes meeting questioningly. Like we have to re-establish our bond. I guess that’s fair.

But it still pisses me off.

“I don’t think you’ve officially met Jade,” he says after a moment. “Colt, this is Jade Cantrell, the love of my life. Honey, this is Colt Blackwood. You probably know more about him than you should.”

She laughs. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Colt. I’d give you a hug, but superman here has a death grip on me. He seems to think pregnancy means I’m fragile.”

She has a light southern accent, bright blue eyes, and a great smile.

“I know your music,” I say, smiling back. “Believe it or not, Russian prison guards like American country music and Greek bouzouki. That’s their jam.”

“Russian prison guards listening to my music was not on my bingo card,” she says.

And we all laugh.

“And this is Aspen Rockwell, soon-to-be Christianson,” Banks says proudly.

“I was in no shape to plan a wedding while I was pregnant,” she says, grimacing. “But it’s wonderful to meet you. Banks has missed you.”

There’s another awkward silence and I try not to let them see me sigh. There’s so much frustration inside me, practically screaming to get out, but I have to stay cool for now. I’m not strong enough to get in a boxing ring yet—one of my favorite ways to release tension—and it feels like I have to tread carefully with the guys.

And where the hell is Briar? If she’s outside making out with West?—

Nope. Can’t go there.