The stick shakes in your trembling fingers. You drop your gaze to it again, barely believing what the lines are telling you.

Pregnant.

The word echoes in your mind, both terrifying and thrilling. Now it could be a good thing… or a horrible thing, given Leland. The man who’s brilliant and broken, careful and reckless, loyal and dangerous all at once.

You hear the door creak open, boots clacking against the floor, the familiar scowl in his voice before he even sees you. “Hey, where are you?” he calls, gruff but carrying that edge of panic he can’t hide when he’s nervous.

He steps into the kitchen, eyes scanning, brow furrowed. His hands flex, restless, and you can hear the tension in his voice tighten with every syllable. “Darlin’ ya here? Don’t hide from me,” he says, voice rough, almost pleading, betraying the careful control he usually keeps in place.