Page 57 of Forbidden Cowboy

I was five months pregnant withtriplets, and still hadn’t made a decision about Wyatt. Obviously, I had decided to keep the babies, all three of them, despite not knowing what to do. The pregnancy dated back to our first night together in New York, and I cursed myself for not being more vigilant at the time. Of course, the Plan B pill hadn’t worked—I’d already been pregnant at that point. It had been a useless exercise in contraception.

I had forgotten, I suppose, that contraception was even an issue in the wake of Beau’s setback. It was a massive oversight on both our parts, and I wanted to call Wyatt and tell him exactly that, but I didn’t. I didn’t, because I knew how he would feel if I told him I was pregnant. He would feel obligated. He might even offer to be with me, like he had done with Eliana, and I didn’t want him to be with me because of obligation. I wanted more than that. I wanted romance and love and all the soft squishy things you read about in romance novels.

I was unlikely to have that ever again, I realized grimly as I stared at myself in the mirror. I was already much larger than your average five-month pregnancy, and it was unavoidable, looking at myself. Things that used to be simple like getting out of bed or tying my shoes had suddenly become herculean tasks, and I found myself cursing Wyatt every single time.

I didn’t hate him for the pregnancy. I hated him for not being there, even though it was illogical to think he could somehow have a sixth sense about it.

Apparently, however, Beau did.

When the knock came at my door, only a week before Christmas, I was curious, and opened it to find my brother standing on the other side. He was leaning heavily on a cane and sweating.

“Beau!” I said, immediately pulling open the door and dragging him into my apartment.

“Do—you—know,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath as I led him to the couch, “how—hard—it was—to find you?”

“Sorry,” I said, “I guess I forgot to give you my address.”

“Yeah,” he said, gaining some control over his breathing. “You did.”

“Sorry,” I said again.

“God dammit,” he said, tilting his head back and grimacing as he grabbed at his left thigh.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Just muscle cramps,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I’m not used to walking much yet.”

“But you are walking,” I considered. “Which is really amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s great that I had to break myself out of the hospital as soon as I could take more than ten steps to come find you.”

“Beau!” I admonished him. “You really should be there if you need to be! You shouldn’t have left just to find me!”

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he grunted, slowly relaxing his face as the muscle spasm apparently subsided. “And you stopped visiting.”

I saw the panic in his eyes as he looked at me.

“You thought it was like graduation all over again.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“God, I’m so sorry.”

“Never scare me like that again,” he said. “Besides, I only found you because I went to that gym you always used to talk about. Talked to a girl that might have been seven feet tall. Do you know how intimidated I was? I’m super weak and she looked like she could bench press me.”

“You either met Nadia or Mary-Lou,” I said, “ML is super strong; never arm wrestle her.”

“That’s beside the point,” Beau said, and finally looked at me fully. “I need to know why you’ve left Gunny behind again. And not just Gunny, but me and Wyatt. Anna, too, by the way. She looks more heartbroken than when her mother leaves her. You’ve hurt her.”

I pulled a blanket from the edge of the sofa in an attempt to cover my stomach. That was the wrong move. I wasn’t sure how Beau hadn’t noticed it before, but the blindness was probably hereditary, since I had gone four months in my own body without seeing it. The action of me trying to cover up only made it more obvious, and Beau’s face turned stormy.

“You’re pregnant,” he stated, his voice flat. Horrific realization dawned on him, and his mouth dropped open. “Wyatt? Really?”

“Beau…” I said, but he shook his head.

“I’m gonna kill the fucker,” he growled, and with the kind of speed I hadn’t expected from an injured man, he was back on his feet and hobbling towards the door.

I would have caught him easily if I didn’t have to stop and put shoes on—a challenge that took several minutes of valuable time. By the time I had locked my door and gotten down to street level, Beau was gone.