Page 43 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Josie

By the time the shuttle rounds the final bend into Silver Peak, the mountains feel too close. The air too still.

Denver had been sharp and electric, full of noise and ambition. A city teetering on the edge of becoming something bigger. But here?

Here, the quiet is deafening.

Mom’s waiting at the tiny bus stop with a thermos of peppermint tea and that soft smile she wears like armor. She doesn’t ask how it went. She wraps me in a hug and whispers, “Let’s go home.”

And I let her. Because I’m too tired to pretend.

The house smells like cinnamon and citrus and safety. I leave my bags by the door and collapse into the couch like I’ve been underwater for days and finally surfaced.

The future is still a question mark.

Denver made me feel seen. But it didn’t feel like mine. Not yet.

And Silver Peak? This town feels more complicated than ever.

I don’t even realize I’ve dozed off until Dee plops onto the couch beside me with a dramatic sigh.

“Savannah Monroe is trending again,” she says, scrolling her phone like it’s an Olympic event. “It’s been insane.”

I groan. “Dee, I don’t need gossip right now.”

“It’s not gossip. It’s like… public service. Look.” She holds out the phone.

A thread is blowing up on X. Dozens of posts. Screenshots. Photos.

One headline in bold: NFL Heartbreaker Knox Knightly Implicated in Alleged Pregnancy Cover Up.

Another: Savannah Monroe’s History of Fabricated Claims Resurfaces.

I blink. My stomach turns.

“What happened?”

“Savannah,” Dee looks at me. “She faked having a baby with Knox. I heard about all the details from Nova.”

“She faked being pregnant?”

I stare at the screen. The words blur.

“And now she’s telling people you’re a one-night stand he abandoned. It’s everywhere.”

I sit up slowly. “How did she even find out?”

Dee shrugs. “Small towns. Loose lips. Or maybe she saw him falling apart and connected the dots. No one knows for sure. Just that it’s... out there now.”

Fucking hell.

“How is Knox taking it?”

Dee offers me a one-shouldered shrug. “He really is unraveling.”

Unraveling .

That word hits something soft in me.

I haven’t been listening to his voicemails. Not fully. They’re jumbled and messy and too hard to hear. He sounds different. Desperate. One message is just silence, like he couldn’t get the words out. Another is him muttering something about the walk-in smelling like cardamom.

And one, halfway through, he choked out, “I miss your voice.”

It gutted me.

But still, I didn’t call back.

Because no matter how much I miss him… I can’t be the one to fix him. Not again.

Now I know why he looked like the floor dropped out from under him that day. Why he froze when I said I’m pregnant.

He’s been lied to before. Manipulated. Publicly humiliated.

But I’m not her.

And the fact that he could even think I’d do something like that.

It burns.

He should’ve known me better than that.

I curl in on myself, arms wrapped tight around my belly, this fragile new life tucked safe inside.

I don’t know what my next step is.

Denver isn’t off the table. But neither is this place. This town that drives me crazy, but also feels like home in a way that nowhere else has.

What I do know?

I can’t keep waiting for him to become the man I hope he’ll be.

He either is, or he isn’t.

And right now…

I honestly don’t know which one he is.

Later that evening, I’m still in my room, curled beneath an old quilt, trying, and failing, not to think too hard, when there’s a gentle knock on my door.

“Yeah?” I call, voice hoarse.

Mom peeks in, holding something in her hand. An envelope.

“This was on the front desk just now,” she says, walking it over. “Must’ve gotten dropped off earlier, and I didn’t notice until I went to close up.”

My name is scrawled across the front in messy, familiar handwriting.

I sit up slowly.

“Who gave it to you?”

She shakes her head. “Didn’t see. Might’ve been left while I was out back. Just thought you should have it.”

I nod, but my throat’s too tight to speak. I should talk to her. Tell her officially everything that’s happening, but she doesn’t push, and I can’t force the words out.

Mom gives my hand a little squeeze and quietly slips back out, leaving the door ajar behind her.

I stare at the envelope like it might explode.

Then I open it.

Josie .

I freeze. My heart stumbles.

Josie,

I don’t even know if this will reach you. Maybe your mom tosses it. Maybe you never even come back. Maybe that’s what I deserve.

I just…

Damn.

I love you.

I love you so much it terrifies me.

And this baby?

I want to be better. I want to show up. I will.

But I keep hearing her voice, Savannah’s, and all the lies I believed before, and it makes my chest go tight and my head go sideways and then I lose it and say shit I don’t mean.

You are not her.

I know that.

But fear is loud, and grief is louder.

And I think I broke the only thing that ever made me feel like more than just the wreckage of my past.

You.

I love you.

I don’t know what comes next.

But if there's still a version of us out there somewhere, if there’s still a chance, I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.

I’m sorry.

—K

By the time I finish reading, my vision is so blurred I can barely see the words.

I clutch the paper to my chest and curl into myself, sobs cracking open from somewhere deep.

This is what I wanted, isn’t it? Honesty. Vulnerability. The truth.

But the truth is still so uncertain.

He loves me. But he’s scared.

He wants this. But he’s spiraling.

He’s sorry. But sorry doesn’t fix everything.

I cry until the sky outside is fully dark. Until the crickets rise in chorus and the paper in my hands feels soft from the tears.

Then, with trembling fingers, I fold the note carefully.

Tuck it into my nightstand.

And lie back down.

Because love is not enough if he’s not ready.

And I have babies to think about now.

A future to choose.

Even if I don’t know what it looks like yet.