Page 50 of The Perfect Hosts

Madeline looks to Trent helplessly, and he seems to read her mind. “Come sit down for a minute.” He reaches for her hand and guides her to the great room. His fingers are strong and warm, but Madeline is hesitant to enter that space, doesn’twant to see the carnage Dalton left behind. But Trent gently pulls her along. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. And to her surprise, it is. There is a new door and all the broken glass and wrecked furniture is gone. The only remnants of the carnage are the boarded-up windows.

“You did all this?” Madeline asks.

“Yeah,” Trent says, almost shyly. “I figured the last thing you needed to come home to is a family of raccoons.”

“Yes, the door, but you cleaned up all of this,” Madeline sweeps her hand over the space. “That was above and beyond. Thank you so much.” Madeline settles onto the soft leather sofa, and the dull ache in her belly eases.

“The police released the scene earlier today, and that girl Mellie moved back into the house. Was that okay?” Madeline nods. “And your sister did too,” Trent says, and from the stiffness in his voice Madeline knows that Lucy hasn’t left much of an impression on him. “Want me to kick her out?” he asks, and Madeline can’t help but smile.

It’s tempting, but she’s too tired to face more drama tonight. “No, thanks,” Madeline says. “Lucy will be moving on in the next few days.” She hopes this is true.

“I don’t trust her,” Trent says, sitting on the edge of a chair across from Madeline.

She gives a little laugh. “You’ve caught on early. You’re smarter than most.”

“I’m serious, Madeline,” he says. “I caught her in the stable office earlier,” he says.

At this Madeline sits up straight. “My office? What was she doing?”

“Just looking around, but it was weird. She was acting squirrelly,” Trent says, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “I’m telling you, she’s up to something.”

Had Lucy been in her desk? She must have found the hidden compartment in the drawer. God, how embarrassing.

Trent is eyeing her with concern. “You all right?”

“The baby is kicking up a storm,” Madeline says, trying to conceal her worry. “She must be hungry.”She.They are having a little girl. The thought floods her with excitement, worry, fathomless love.

Trent hops up from the chair. “Want me grab you something to eat?”

“Oh, no,” Madeline says, but it’s half-hearted. She is hungry and thirsty and beyond exhausted. The baby gives another jab to her kidneys, and Madeline lets out a soft gasp. Standing above her, Trent looks so worried it’s almost comical. “Want to feel?” Madeline asks. She doesn’t wait for his answer, she pulls his hand, rough and calloused, toward her and lays it on her midsection. The baby rolls and swirls all elbows and knees in search of a comfortable position.

Trent’s face lights up. “That’s amazing,” he breathes out. Their faces are so close that she can feel his breath on her cheek. It is, Madeline thinks. It is amazing. This little being floating beneath her rib cage, unaware of the turmoil happening outside her insulated world. Wes should be the one here with her right now, the one with his fingers splayed across her stomach. Trent must be thinking the same thing, because he pulls his hand back and stands upright as if burned.

“Your fingers are cold,” he says.

“A little,” she admits. She looks around the room for the chenille throw usually tossed over the arm of the sofa, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

“Here,” Trent says, slipping off the flannel shirt he’s wearing over his T-shirt and wrapping it around her shoulders.

Madeline tries to murmur her thanks, but she’s so very tired.

“Hey,” comes a voice from the shadows.

“Mellie,” Madeline says, jerking to attention. “How are you?”

“Well, you two look cozy,” Mellie says, coming into the room. “And I should be asking you that.”

“I’m good.” Mellie looks much better than she had when she first arrived on Madeline’s doorstep. The grime and soot have been washed away, and instead of the hospital scrubs she’s dressed in Madeline’s clothes—soft, wide-legged cotton pants and one of her old Iowa Hawkeyes sweatshirts.

Her surprise must be obvious, because Mellie blushes. “I grabbed them from the laundry room. I hope that was okay. I don’t have any of my clothes.”

“No, it’s fine,” Madeline says, but a new unease tugs at her. “Borrow what you need.”

Mellie smiles her thanks. “I’m glad you’re back. You look exhausted.” Mellie’s eyes flick toward Trent. “I bet you’ll be glad to be in your own bed tonight.”

“I am,” Madeline says. “It’s good to be home.”

Trent gets to his feet. “It is getting late,” he says. “Madeline, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Nell has a cut on her hind quarter that you’ll want to take a look at.” He gives a curt nod to Mellie and is gone.