Bethany

“Double latte, please. Skim milk.” Bethy smiled at the woman in the food truck window. “That’s all today.”

“Child,” Dorothea scolded, shaking her head. “You ain’t gonna get no ass drinkin’ no skim milk. And you got no ass, you ain’t gonna get yourself a man. Lemme make you a real cup of coffee, with whipped cream on top.” Even as her mouth moved, arguing, she was already assembling what Bethy had asked for. “And no muffin? Child, that’s nearly criminal, with how good these banana nut muffins are today.”

Rolling her eyes, Bethy laughed. “Dot, I’ll give on the muffin, but you put whipped cream on my coffee, and I will not be coming back.” She grabbed her purse, unslinging it from her shoulder. “And if you try to put butter on the muffin, we’ll have words.” Dorothea chuckled, and Bethy grinned at her, finding her wallet by feel.

“Put her stuff on my tab.” Bethy didn’t try to stifle her glad cry as she recognized the voice that came from behind her. Purse clutched in one hand, she whirled and threw herself at the man standing there.

“Davy.” She felt his arms settle around her, holding her close. Then she laughed again when his voice rumbled in his chest underneath her cheek.

“But, Dot, if you put whipped cream in my coffee, we’ll have more than words.” He gave Bethy a squeeze. “How you doin’, baby girl?”

“Better, now.” The sadness from last night threatened to reappear, and she pressed closer when he would have released her. “I didn’t know you were coming into town. When did you decide?”

“Coffee’s ready, Miss Bethy,” Dot called, and Bethany reluctantly pulled back from her brother.

“Thanks, Dot,” she said, accepting the wax paper-wrapped muffin and paper cup of coffee. “You’re my favorite.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you tell my son something I don’t want him to hear.” Dot laughed and shook her head. “My Ty thinks a lot of you, but you sic him on me again for my food choices and I doubt I’ll still be your favorite.”

Bethy felt her smile slip, and she waited for Mason to give his order for a breakfast sandwich before she asked, “Have you heard anything from Sarge?” It had been several days since the last update Bethy had gotten, but he usually kept in closer contact with Tyrell’s mom. “Ty okay?”

“Yeah.” Dot brushed at her forehead with the back of one wrist. “He said Tyrell is getting back on track. Every episode he has, my boy seems to come back from quicker, and that’s good, Bethy.” Dot reached out, sandwich in hand, waiting for Mason to take the food. “I’m glad he’s got you to lean on. Matters a lot, more than you know.”

“We always do better with good folks in our corner,” Mason said. “How much do I owe you, Dot?”

“Not a thing, honey. Friends and family discount got you covered today.” Bending over so she could see them through the low window in the side of her truck, Dot gifted them both with a broad smile. “Appreciate y’all.”

“Back atcha,” Bethy told her, then tried to hide a smile when Mason tucked a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar on the counter. “See you tomorrow.” Mason slung an arm around her neck as they turned to head up the block to the building that housed their business. “I didn’t know you were coming in. Why didn’t you tell me?” Careful of her full hands, she bumped him with her hip. “I like your visits, bro.”

“I like visitin’ ya, Bethy. I didn’t know until late that I’d be headed down.” She felt his lips brush the side of her head. “Thought I’d surprise ya.” He huffed a laugh, then said, lips quirking into a smile, “Surprise.”

“Good surprise.” He released her as she juggled things, getting the key from her pocket and let them into the building, using her elbow to turn on lights as they moved through the receptionist area and into the office they shared. Shared is a generous term, she thought, looking around. Her desk was messy, clearly used and covered with folders filled with research on different artists and bands. Stuck in front of the phone were a dozen notes with names, numbers, and dates. The desk that faced hers, butted together as they were in the middle of the room, was a stark difference. Clear of everything except a notepad and pen, the telephone shoved to one side. She noted where the chaos of her area had bled across the line, edges of folders and papers extending into the pristine space.

“Tell me what that was about Ty.” Mason shifted his chair and dropped into it, somehow managing to not fumble his sandwich or coffee this whole time. He set the coffee on the desk, laughing at her when she slid a coaster his direction. Ignoring that unsubtle hint, he unwrapped his sandwich and demanded again, “Tell me, baby girl,” before taking a huge bite.

“I’d rather tell you about the group I want to try and sign.” She settled into her own chair, pulling out the old-fashioned writing shelf to set her coffee down, knowing from experience that trying to make room on the desk proper was a doomed enterprise.

“I’m sure you would. But, you’re gonna tell me what’s goin’ on with Ty first.” He pried the lid off his coffee, and took a sip, grinning at her over the top of the cup.

“He’s…away. Got a couple of things to take care of. I thought Dot might have heard from him.” Bethy unwrapped her muffin, already knowing that Davy wouldn’t accept that answer. She groaned when her fingers encountered the slippery coating on the baked goods. “She put butter on my muffin!”

“And cream, real cream in your latte. And she ain’t wrong. You’re too skinny, Bethy.” He sipped his coffee again. Voice harder than it had been a moment ago, he observed, “You just lied to me.”

Bethy’s head jerked up and she stared at him, picking off a piece of the muffin and stuffing it into her mouth. He shook his head at her stall tactic and started talking. “Don’t lie to me. About anything, ever. I know we weren’t always close.” She winced, because that was her fault. She’d blamed him when he’d left, only realizing years later that it was an act of pure self-preservation for a sixteen-year-old boy who, if he had stayed, would have wound up in a kill or be killed scenario sooner or later with their father. But him leaving when he did, and what happened afterwards? It had taken her a long time to sort that out in her head.

“Bethy, you know I only want the best for ya. You weren’t asking Dot if she’d heard from Ty, you were asking about Sarge.” He paused, staring at her, then shook his head. “Don’t wrinkle your nose at me.” Bethy rolled her lips between her teeth not even aware she was making a face until he said something. “I know about Ty’s PTSD. Knew it the first time I came to visit y’all’s apartment.” That had been after Mikey’s brother died, when Davy had come down for Darren’s funeral.

It seemed so many of her interactions with Mikey had surrounded death and destruction. Like Tabby’s death, the one that cost her so much, but gave her so much, too. Seeing Mikey’s friend—the judge at the funeral—and having overheard her father and her husband talking that morning about their upcoming plans would have been enough to push anyone to desperate measures. Begging for help at the funeral of her best friend had been a mortifying tactic, but it probably saved her life. Priorities. It got me off the mountain.

She and Tabby had always promised each other they’d get out together. Out of the holler and away from the people who scattered careless pain like seed on a fertile field. Then Tabby died, and Mikey came home for the funeral, and she knew, somehow, that he’d catch her if she leaped. So, at the end of that long, long day, Bethy had been installed with Ty with Mikey’s help. Out and safe for the first time in so long. Those first nights in Ty’s apartment were scary, and the memories of him soothing her tears were reminders that she owed him so much. Like I told Sarge, supporting him however I can is the least thing I can do.

Then Darrie had died, the last of Mikey’s family torn away from him. Loss after loss, all his life. Mikey had come home again, and as soon she’d gotten the call, she’d made her first return trip to the hollers. Panic twisted her belly the whole time she’d driven up that damned mountain. It hadn’t mattered that Daddy was dead by that point, didn’t matter that a Davy had worked to clear their home place from all the folks who had hung on every word that spewed from that man’s mouth. Driving into the clearing had taken every ounce of courage she owned. And of course, that was the one time Davy had shown up, too.

Thank God. She smiled, remembering how angry she’d been to see him. In the end, the encounter had been the beginning of their renewed relationship. He’d met Ty the next day, staying in the apartment with several of his and Mikey’s friends. The instant she’d gotten home, she’d pulled Ty aside and begged him to be quiet about what he knew, about what she’d had to do. She hated keeping secrets from Davy, but if he caught wind of what had happened to her…if he realized she had a child, he would lose his mind.

“He have a bad turn?” Davy’s question startled her and she jumped, sloshing hot coffee over her hand.

“Shit.” Grabbing for napkins, she dabbed at the darkening spots on her pants, then cleaned her hand. “Yeah, he had a turn. But he’s better. Sarge is his guy when things go south, so I call him when Ty needs someone to talk to. He’s got this place where he helps guys like Ty, vets who need somewhere they can just be, and not have to worry about civilians.” She shrugged, feeling Davy’s gaze like a weight on her shoulders. “He’s been there for a few weeks. I’d just like to know for sure that he’s okay.”

Leaning back in his chair, Davy dug in his pocket, coming out with his phone. Laying it on the desk, he tapped at the screen for a moment; then she heard a ringing. “Who are you calling?” She took a sip and waited, rolling her eyes when he didn’t answer, just grinned at her.

“Hello?” Bethy recognized the voice and shook her head at her brother, but she couldn’t help returning his smile. “Mason, man, sup?”

“Watcher, how’s it goin’? Got you on speaker, brother.” When he answered, his voice had changed, even his posture shifting from Davy, her big brother, to Mason, the president of a motorcycle club based out of Chicago. “Bethy’s here, man.”

“Bethany.” The pleasure was clear in Mikey’s tone, and that made Bethy’s throat tighten. The fact he could stay friends with her after how she’d failed Tabby, always amazed her. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m good, Mikey. You and Juanita coming back this way anytime soon?” His wife Juanita was a good friend of hers, and she talked to the woman as often as she could. “Family is always good to see.”

“Probably not, honey. Bella’s in school now, keeps Nita tied to the household more than before. Not that we’re complaining.” He was laughing at the last and Bethy heard Juanita’s voice in the background, scolding him. “You could always come out here, see your goddaughter.”

“Promise to do that soon. Give Nita my love.” Bethy leaned back in her chair, blowing a kiss across the desks to thank Davy for letting her have those moments with her friend before he steered the conversation wherever he intended when he initiated the call.

“Hey, Watch.” Davy jumped into the opening, as she’d expected. They made a good tag-team, which was why she always tried to have him in town for major negotiations. At least since that one fiasco. Not only was he intimidating as hell, even when he took off the leather vest and put on a suit, but he was smart as a whip, seeing past the words and fluff and into the meat of a problem. “You know a guy Ty’s connected with called Sarge?”

“Yeah, Sarge is ex-military. He runs a halfway house for vets trying to put their lives back together. Sup?” Watcher’s tone had gained intensity, and Bethy felt a niggling wiggle of fear. “Why you askin’?”

“Ty’s had an episode.” Davy left it at that, and Watcher filled in the blanks quickly.

“How long’s he been gone? I got a couple of numbers I can call if he’s dropped out entirely. See if we can find him.” He’d made the wrong assumption, but it warmed Bethy’s heart to know that Watcher would drop everything if their friend needed him.

“He’s not gone like that. Sarge picked him up nearly a month ago, and I’ve gotten a couple of texts but…” She paused, trying to decide how much to share. “Sarge and I had words the night it happened, and he was different after. I just…Ty’s never been gone this long and will usually keep in touch himself. He hasn’t. It’s been only Sarge texting me, and that’s been just about once a week. I’m not really worried, but Davy got here just as I was asking Dot if she’d heard anything. You know Davy, he’s all in to try and make every problem history.” There, that had glossed over the near argument, and hopefully both men would focus on Ty instead.

“What’d you argue about?”

“Had words?”

Davy’s question and Watcher’s came at the same time, and Bethy shook her head, laughing. “I just want to know for sure that Ty’s okay, guys. I’m allowed to have disagreements with people, you know. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know Sarge, and if he was pissed enough at you, he wouldn’t hesitate to make it hard for you, Bethy. He’s a good dude, but not a nice one.” Watcher’s words underlined what Bethy had been feeling, and she pulled in a breath, waiting. “I’ll give him a ring-a-ling, see if I can’t shake some intel from him on Ty. Would help if I knew what I needed to avoid talking about.”

“He just…said something I took…look, it was a long day, followed by me getting home to be greeted with a half a dozen garbage bags full of rotting deerskins and Ty in the middle of a meltdown. Sarge just was a wrong place, wrong time thing. If you can find out about Ty, I’ll pass it along to Dot, and we’ll both owe you big.” Bethy stared at her muffin, picking at the edges of the paper, studiously not looking at Davy. “Thanks, Mikey. Give both your pretty girls a hug from me, yeah?”

Silence from both men, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Davy nod. “Thanks, Watch. Talk soon.”

“Will do. Let you know soon as I hear anything. Don’t worry, Bethy.” Watcher’s voice softened. “Ty’s good, or you’d have heard something for sure. Talk soon.”

“Rotting deerskins?” Davy questioned after he disconnected the call.

Bethy tipped her head up and sighed. “Yeah, he had some idea about making things out of them and selling them. I don’t know how much he spent on them, but I took the whole load to the cabin and dumped them into a ravine. They smelled so gross.” Straightening her shoulders, she glared at him. “Now, if you’re done ordering my life for me, can we talk about this group?”

Nodding, Davy told her, “Tell me.”

***

“I like the sound,” Davy said and held the door open for her to walk through. “You got a good ear. Brains of the operation, just like I always tell everybody.”

Bethy shot him a grin over her shoulder, turning to use her key to lock the bolt. A sound on the lot across the street pulled her attention, and she twisted to see a bike slowly pulling out and into the street. A feeling of menace rolled over her skin, and she glanced at Davy to see him staring at the bike and its rider intently.

“You fuckin’ know him?” Not a bit of softness in his voice, Davy barked the question at her, and she belatedly realized she probably should have mentioned the bike that had been following her around for the past couple of weeks.

“The bike? No.” She shoved her keys into her purse, leaning over to link her arm through Davy’s. “Want me to utilize my dubious cooking skills to feed you, or wanna get something edible from the diner?” Cuddling into his side for a minute, she stayed there until she felt his arm flex in hers, and knew he was past whatever anger he’d had. “I’m not saying I’m a bad cook, mind.”

“You’re also not sayin’ you’re a good one.” He laughed and turned them so they were walking up the sidewalk.

“Mama always said it was wrong to lie.” His arm tightened under her grip, and she immediately regretted the words. “Davy, I’m sorry.” She scarcely remembered their mother, had only been four when she died of cat scratch fever. What she did remember was suffused through with a feeling of such safety, warmth, and love that it could bring her to tears. Things that had been missing throughout most of her childhood. “You ever think what life would have been like if she hadn’t died?”

This time his feet stopped working, and he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling her around so he could wrap his arms around her. Eyes squeezed tightly, he looked like he was in pain, and Bethy was suddenly afraid. “Davy, are you okay?”

“Yeah, baby girl. I’m good.” He pulled in a breath and then softly brushed his lips against the side of her head. “I forget sometimes…” Davy’s voice trailed off, and she leaned her cheek against his chest. “Let’s go to your apartment. We can call for delivery or something. I got a…” He paused again to take in a deep breath and at his hesitation, she steeled herself for whatever was coming. “I got a story to tell you.”

***

Feet to the balcony railing, Bethy lifted her clasped hands to her mouth, pressing shaking fingers against her trembling lips. She’d asked Davy for a few minutes of solitude, needing time to process the story he had spun for her tonight. Part of her didn’t want to credit it as truth, but in a small sliver of her mind, she believed him outright. It backed up the remembered fear every time Daddy would march up to her standing at the mound of dirt, snatching at the scraggly wildflowers clutched in her dirty child’s hand. He hadn’t held any reverence for the gravesite. Other people had been laid to rest on the family’s land, and he walked around those flattened patches, taking care with his feet and voice. When held up against those, something about her mother’s grave never felt right. It had been off in a way she’d never been able to pinpoint.

I was twelve when she died, not four. Tears welled in her eyes again and she blinked furiously, trying to drive them back. The year when things went bad. That had been the year when old man Taylor had picked her out of the pack of girls to be his bride. At least he waited two years to claim me.

The door slid open behind her and Davy’s hands landed on her shoulders, heavy and warm, holding her in place. “You doin’ okay, honey?”

She nodded.

“Wanna talk yet?”

Shaking her head, she unclasped her fingers, reaching up with one hand to cover his, holding him in place, too.

“Okay if I sit out here with ya?”

She tipped her head sideways, nodding as she pressed her cheek to his other hand.

He released her to pull a chair over, and then turned hers, bringing her legs across his lap. He reached out, gripping one of her hands and resting their clasped hands on her thigh. Taking a deep breath, he said, “She loved you.”

Swallowing hard, Bethy turned her face away, staring off into the darkness, watching the lights of the downtown buildings twinkle in the night.

“She did. You might not remember, but she loved you. Loved both of us.” He moved, and she heard the scratchy noise of him rubbing his palm across his jaw. “Life in the holler is hard.”

“I know it is. I was there, too, Davy.” Blinking fast, she let the things she wanted to say go ahead and flow out, needing to know if she could. Needing to understand. “Do you know how she died?”

“No.” The word came out on a hoarse croak, and she realized this was as hard on him as it was her, making him relive things he probably would prefer to stay buried. She gave his fingers a squeeze, smiling when he returned it. “Just know she’s gone.”

“And the man who took her, what was he to us?” The idea of her mother being taken wasn’t as farfetched as he might believe it to be, and Bethy knew it from the inside out, being taken unwilling as she’d been.

“Nothing to us, Bethy. He’s nothin’ at all.” Davy shifted in his seat, rocking her legs as he settled. “Justice Morgan is a powerful man, but he ain’t nothing to us.”

“You said she had another baby, a boy?” Bethany remembered the tingling feeling in her breasts as the milk intended for her child had let down, how it had made her cry to know she’d never hold him like that, never hold and nurse him. “I can’t imagine how it was for her, being with us and missing him, or being with him and missing us. Pain no matter where she turned.”

Ty scowled at Bethy from across the room, his brows bowing together. “You gotta tell him.” He shook his head. “Watcher’s gotta know.”

She stood, trembling, arms crossed over her still-rolling stomach. That had been what betrayed her. Ty hadn’t missed her nausea these past two weeks, and her claims of a bug only went so far. Bethy felt her lips quiver, tried to ignore how her chin bumped, but couldn’t dam her tears. Hot and wet, they rolled down her face as she stared at him.

If Ty did this, told Mikey, then Mikey would be honor bound to tell her brother. She knew they were in touch. Mikey, now known as Watcher, had been clear on that when he set her up with Tyrell three weeks back.

“Please.” That one word broke in three places, her voice betraying her. She sucked in a breath, then blew it out, trying to control both her belly and her tears. Accent thick, she pleaded with Ty. “You cain’t. He cain’t know. He knows, he’ll tell my brother. Davy don’t even know what Daddy did. Don’t know about what happened after he left. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times on the phone, haven’t seen him for nearly four years. He don’t know nothin’ that happened. If he knew, he’d kill Daddy. An’ Watcher’ll hafta tell Davy.” She willed him to believe her, to trust she knew the best path. Bending at the waist, she begged, “Don’t. Please, God, don’t. You know how this goes. I just gotta figure out what to do.”

Ty’s scowl deepened. Then he asked the right question. “You wanna raise this baby?” Sobs now shaking her frame, Bethy shook her head, having worked it out in her head that an on-her-own sixteen-year-old mother couldn’t come close to giving this child what it deserved. “Want it to go to a good family?” Her head moved up and down so fast a wave of nausea crawled up her throat. That same wish had fled her lips nightly while she sat close to the open window, staring up at the cold stars overhead. “Then that’s what we’ll do, little girl.” He took a step towards her and lifted his arms out to his sides. Disbelieving for a moment, she watched as the corners of his mouth curled up. “Come here, Bethy.” She flew across the room to him, letting him wrap her up with his warmth and love. “Then that’s what we’ll do. But first, you’re gonna tell me everything about this Taylor dude. Everything you can.”

His voice had taken on an edge of rage when he finished with, “I’ll take care of him, honey.” He rocked them in place, soothing her with his words and body. “Then I’ll take care of you. We’ll do whatever you need, honey. I got you.”

Davy moved again, pulling her thoughts from the past. She froze when he said, “That’s a dark study, honey. Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Without lying, she answered, “Tyrell. He’s been a really good friend, you know?”

“I know.” Davy’s other hand slowly stroked up and down her shin. His next words were careful. “Y’all are pretty tight.”

Tipping her head, she looked at him and rolled her eyes. “He’s my friend, Davy. That’s all.”

Not smiling, his eyes on her were serious when he said, “If it weren’t…if y’all were more than friends, that’d be okay. I wish you weren’t…” Davy sighed. “I wish things were different for you. I wish I could make things different.”

Ty stood in the kitchen and stared at Bethy as she opened the thick envelope of papers from the Harrison County clerk’s office. “That them?” She pulled out the sheaf of pages, scanned the top sheet and nodded.

“The annulment is official.” Bethy shoved the certified forms back into the envelope, not wanting to look at them one moment longer than she had to. “It’s all behind me.” Lifting her head, she told him, “Weird that I get these the week after he died.”

She’d heard from Aunt Barbra that Taylor had passed away. He’d been crushed when his tractor rolled over on top of him as he worked the side of a mountain. His body had laid out in the weather for days before anyone found him. With Bethy gone, there was no one else on his land. He’d died without an heir, which meant his land would go to the state and then up for auction. She’d had the option of stopping the annulment and being declared his widow, but she hadn’t wanted the weight of that placed on her shoulders. Then everyone would have to know about the baby, which meant her father would know. Bethy rested her hand on her swollen belly. He’ll never hurt you, little one, she told the child inside her.

Glancing up, she caught a look of rage and guilt on Ty’s face that surprised her. She remembered his vow to take care of Taylor. “Ty, what did you do?”

“Only what needed doin’, Bethy. Nothing for you to worry about.” He grabbed her jacket and tossed it across the room to her, and picked up his sweatshirt, shrugging it on over his head. “Let’s get to this class so they can teach you how to breathe right, yeah?”

Bethy only moved enough to pluck her jacket from the air, staring at Ty, fear crawling through her chest. “What did you do?” Her whisper was barely enough to stir the air, but he heard her.

“Man like that? What do you think I did? He had another girl all lined up, Bethy. I asked around, and he’d been hanging around at every one of the church camps. I know you know you told me what happened there. Know you haven’t forgotten. He had another girl lined up.” Ty lifted a hand and pointed to her belly. “That child’s a girl, you gonna stand there and tell me you want her in the same world as Taylor? Breathin’ that air?” Bethy shook her head. “That’s right. And neither did I. So, I did something about it. Took care of it, like I told you I would.” Breathing hard, as if he’d run a marathon, Ty stared at her. “Took care of it, Bethy. Takin’ care of you. My little sister, I love ya, honey. Took care of it.” One palm flattened on the table in front of him. His sober expression didn’t change, having settled into rigid lines while he waited for her reaction. Held himself still, and the very air in the apartment was still, as if they were standing on a precipice. “Now, we going to Lamaze class, or not?”

For me. “We’re going.” She didn’t move, holding her jacket as if it were foreign to her, an article of clothing she couldn’t understand. Anything could tip things the wrong way, and she was suddenly terrified of things falling out badly. So she stood there, jacket in hand and let the magnitude of what Ty had done sink in. He did that for me.

“Then come on.” Irritated and impatient, he slapped the table lightly, barely rattling the salt and pepper shakers. She didn’t have any fear of him. He’d never hurt me. Gentle and kind, he’d never shown her anything other than the sweet giant he was inside. He did that for me. I can’t ever repay him for knowing that shadow is gone.

“I love you, Tyrell.” Bethy took a breath, feeling the baby move and roll around, shifting inside her. “You and Watcher, you’ve done so much for me, so much more than my family. And you…every time I turn around, you’re taking care of me. You’re more my family than anyone else could ever be.”

“You afraid of me now?” He asked the question with a duck of his head like he expected the worst.

“No.” Strong and firm, she laid it out for him. Never. “I am not afraid of you, Ty.”

“Then what the fuck you doin’ all the way over there?” He moved, coming closer, and took the jacket from her, shaking it out so she could slip her arms into it. “We got places to be.”

“Tyrell has always been there. He’s my friend.” Bethy didn’t miss how Davy flinched at the spaces between her words that shouted he hadn’t been there for her. “I can’t change what happened, Davy. We can’t change the past. But you’re here now.” His hand squeezed her ankle. “And that counts for a lot, big brother.” She paused, then carefully asked, “You think he knows about me?”

“He does. He knows he’s got a sister. You want to meet John?” Davy had instinctively known who she was talking about and she smiled, shaking her head. “You change your mind, let me know, I’ll set it up.”

“Okay.” A scene from last weekend flashed through her head, leaning against a tree and laughing, out of breath from chasing Michael through the park, his long legs easily outdistancing hers. Do you want to know you have a nephew? Bethany clamped her lips tightly. “Do you think Daddy knew?”

“Hard to think she’d keep it a secret from him. Probably why he was so damn mad at her all the time.” Davy’s voice had an edge of anger, his eyes focused on something in the past. “Not that the old man needed an excuse.”

“I feel so sorry for her. She was in a hard place. With us, she missed him. With him, she missed us.” His gaze snapped to her, and she stood firm. “I’ll let you know about meeting him. It seems weird. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

Ty was in the room when she pushed her son into the world. His big hands were the ones that brushed back her hair, and he was the one who told her the baby was well and healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, and gorgeous. He told her she’d done good. That she was brave.

She held his hand tightly, crushing his fingers as the pain hit when the adoptive parents held her baby. Not mine, she tried to remind herself, feeling a welling ache in her chest. Then the woman turned and offered her a watery smile filled with such joy those words lost their sting.

Angling the blue blanket so Bethy could see him, Martha Marshall said something so sweetly gracious Bethy loved her even more. This woman who had become like a mother figure to her, someone who so longed to be a mother, but nature had denied her the chance. Ty had found the Marshalls through mutual friends, and they agreed to an open arrangement. When Martha turned to show Bethy the baby, she said, “Look at our baby boy.”

Michael Tyrell Marshall.

“Don’t gotta decide today.”