Belle sat up and cringed, her stomach roiling as she held it, and muttered. “Greyson,” she called out, feeling the cold side of the bed. “Greyson?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, peeking out of the bathroom. “You look like crap.”

She glared at him and he laughed. “Thanks for that.”

When he reached her side, his brow furrowed and he propped up the pillows behind her. “You’re not going in today. Just stay home and rest.”

“No, I’m fine. It’ll pass in an hour or so.”

“For once, will you just listen to me?” he grunted. “Stay home. Rest. The office will survive one day without you, I promise.”

She raised her brow and stared at him hard. “I faintly remember another time you told me that. Remember what happened?” He lowered his mouth to her, kissing her sweetly until she sighed and leaned back against the pillows. “Fine… fine, I’ll stay home.”

“Good, I’ll send Mom over to check on you later. Want anything before I head out?”

“Tea, maybe,” she said. “That sounds safe for now.”

“I’ll bring you some, and while you’re home, no working. Binge-watch TV for a change, put in those movies you like to watch, I don’t care, but no working,” he ordered. “Got it?”

Belle mocked him with a salute. “Yes, sir.”

His lips thinned as he scowled at her, but he stood and went to get her tea. After he left it by her bedside, he finished dressing, kissed her on the forehead, and said to call if she needed anything. The front door closed and the Mustang’s engine revved to life. Belle settled back into bed, flipped on the TV, and was ready to find something to entertain herself with when her cell rang. She glanced over and smiled.

“Hey, Brent,” she said. “What’s going on? You make it home alright?”

“I haven’t left yet,” he told her, sounding out of breath. “I’m at the airport now. How fast can you get here?”

“What—why?” she asked quickly.

“It’s them, it’s our grandparents,” he said excitedly. “I’m hopping on a flight to Manitoba and heading to Winnipeg after that. If you want to meet them, this might be our only chance. They don’t know I’m coming.”

Belle cursed her luck and threw the blanket off as she stood and moved towards the closet. “I have to call Greyson. When does the flight leave?”

“Three hours.”

“I’ll call you right back,” she promised and hung up. She tried Greyson’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail. Then she tried his office phone, but the line was busy, and since she wasn’t there to pick up the other end, she left a very brief message to call her as soon as he could. She said it was about her grandparents, but didn’t manage to get anything else out before Brent called her back and she had to flash over. “I can’t get ahold of Greyson,” she told him.

“Damn. Well, you don’t have to come, but my friend called. There’s a moving truck outside their place.”

Belle stared into the depths of her closet, wishing it would give her an answer, but nothing happened. Praying Greyson would understand and not hate her forever, she made a decision. “I’ll be there in twenty,” she said and hung up.

* * *

Greyson finally reached his desk at four in the afternoon and frowned at the number of voicemails blinking at him. He tugged his cell off his belt and frowned. Missed calls there, too. A few were from Belle, but no messages. He picked up his office phone and played back the first one. It was Belle going on about her grandparents before the message cut off. He dialed the ranch to talk to her, but it wasn’t Belle who answered.

“Greyson, thank God. Where the hell have you been?” Sally shouted.

“At work… What’s going on? Why did you call me so many times?” His chest tightened, and he stood abruptly. “Belle, is she alright? The baby?”

“I don’t know,” Sally said, voice shaking with worry. “They’re not here.”

At first, he thought he’d misheard her, but then she repeated it three times and he gripped the phone harder. “Damn it! Did she leave a note—anything?”

Sally mumbled and it sounded like she was running around the house before she let out a startled yelp and Greyson jumped. “Sorry, found a note taped to your monitor. Says she flew to Winnipeg, Canada, with Brent to find her grandparents, be back in the morning. Her grandparents? She found them?”

Greyson pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tightly. “I knew she would do this to me. Damn that woman! Is there anything else on the note?”

“Names,” she said. “Terry and Bethany Tinson.”

“I’m not coming home,” he stated and hung up. “You just couldn’t wait.”

He stormed out of the office, ignoring everyone’s stares and questions as he kicked open the door to the stairs and ran to his Mustang. He slid inside and called the airport on his way, booking the first flight he could find to get him to Canada and the woman trying to kill him with worry.

* * *

In the car on the way to the Tinson house, Belle tried to call Greyson again, but she couldn’t get a signal. “Shit, he’s going to hate me for this,” she groaned and slouched in the back seat of the cab.

“He’ll forgive you,” Brent assured her.

“And if not?”

“Does he love you?” Brent asked, turning towards her.

Belle nodded. “Sometimes too much,” she said quietly. “He’s overprotective, that’s all it is. He’s always trying to stop me from working too much or making sure I take care of myself. Ever since I got pregnant, all he’s done is hover.”

Brent laughed. “He loves you. Let him love you. It’ll be fine, promise.”

The cab slowed as it pulled up outside a stone house surrounded by woods. “This is it,” the man up front said. “You want me to wait around?”

“If you can,” Brent said as he paid. “I have a feeling we won’t be long.”

Belle climbed out of the cab, stretching her legs, and stared at the massive house. There was a moving truck still parked out front, and she frowned, wondering what type of people continually moved so their grandkids wouldn’t find them. Absently, she held her belly as if protecting it from whatever would come next once they walked to that front door. Brent rested his hand on her shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Not in the slightest,” she mumbled.

“Good, me neither. Let’s go.” He smirked, and together, they walked up the long drive to the house. The front door was wide open and several men carried boxes around, rushing across the foyer and out to the truck. Brent walked right inside and Belle followed. “Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Tinson?”

She twisted her hands together, waiting to see what her grandparents looked like, what they would do. A man called out he’d be there in a second, and Belle smiled, clinging to the hope that maybe this was a misunderstanding and they’d be ecstatic to see their grandchildren show up out of the blue, but when hurried steps entered the foyer and slid to a stop, she knew that wasn’t the case.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” the man Belle assumed was Terry, her grandfather, asked brusquely.

“No, but you should. We’re your grandchildren, Brent and Belle.”

The man’s face paled visibly at Brent’s words and he swallowed hard. “Everyone out!” he yelled, and the movers quickly dropped what they were doing to leave the house. When the last one was through and the front door closed, Terry stared from one face to the other then darted down to the little bump visible by Belle’s tight shirt. “So, you’re Penelope’s children.”

Belle flinched when she heard him say their mom’s name so harshly. “Yes, we are, the kids she abandoned—and, apparently, so did you.”

Terry’s face hardened. “We didn’t abandon you. We chose not to take you in.”

“You bastard, do you know what you put us through?!” Brent yelled, storming forward.

“I don’t give a damn. We didn’t want you, didn’t want her either after what she did to us!”

“Terry? What’s with the yelling? Where are all the movers?” a woman asked as she came down the stairs. She turned the corner, and Belle gasped at the ice-blue eyes staring back at her. “Oh, hello…Who are you?” she asked until she focused on Belle and her hand flew to her mouth. “No… no, it can’t be.”

“It is,” Brent said and walked back to stand beside Belle. “We’re your grandchildren.”

“Get out,” Bethany whispered hotly and pointed a finger towards the door. “Get out of our home this instant! We won’t give you a cent, you hear me? Nothing!”

“We don’t want money,” Belle snapped, holding her belly as she yelled. “Jesus, we just wanted to meet the only family we could find. Ask you questions.”

“You won’t be asking questions,” Bethany warned. “Look at you, just like your mother. Unwed, pregnant. Is he a ruffian too? Is he a worthless piece of shit ready to lay another stain on our family name?”

Brent and Belle exchanged a confused look before he asked, “Don’t you dare insult my sister.”

“Why not? She insults us by standing there in that state.”

“I’m engaged to Greyson Taylor, you horrible wench,” Belle said and held up her left hand, flashing her ring, and Bethany’s face darkened with a shade of guilt. “I’m sure you recognize that name. Billionaire, by the way, in case you were wondering.”

Terry and Bethany whispered to each other, but she shook her head vehemently and Terry cleared his throat. “No matter. We want you out of our house—now. I can’t stand the sight of either of you.”

“Why? Guilty because you didn’t take us in?” Brent accused.

“No, you remind us too much of your dead mother,” Bethany stormed through a sudden outburst of tears. “I can’t look at you! Get out of my house! Get out!”

Belle’s heart sank and tears of disbelief pricked her eyes. “Our mother is dead?” she whispered, the room shrinking in around her.

“Yes,” Terry informed her sternly, but there was hurt under his words, too. “She ran off with that man, had you two, and the next thing we hear, she’s dead and he’s nowhere to be found.”

“No… no, that can’t be right,” Belle muttered. “How… how did she die?”

Bethany crossed her arms, and the angry woman faded. Belle spotted the vulnerable old lady standing in her great big house. “We heard she had cancer and it took her quickly. She never even told us.”

“But our dad… Where is he?” Brent asked.

“Ran off, for all we know, and left our daughter to die… left you two… left you all behind,” she cried. “I can’t do this. Terry, please, get them out of our house.”

Belle planted her feet and shook her head. “No, not until you tell us his name.”

“You don’t know it?” Terry asked, surprised.

“No, we don’t. Please, we’ll leave you alone,” Brent promised sadly, “if that’s what you want, but please just tell us that much.”

Terry’s face screwed up in a snarl as he said, “James Hall. His name was James Hall, and he was the bastard who stole my little girl. Now, get out of my house, and if I ever see either of you again, I’ll call the police.”

Belle didn’t want to leave, not so soon and with so little information, but Brent tugged gently on her arm and they walked to the front door. Their mom was dead—for many years now—but their dad…If they could find their dad, maybe this trip would be worth it. They got into the cab, and Brent told the guy to take them back to town. They’d stay the night in Winnipeg and fly home in the morning. Brent held her hand the whole way, but neither said a word about what had happened. Their grandparents didn’t want anything to do with them, and their mom was dead. Belle rested her head back, wondering if this day could be any worse when they pulled up outside the hotel in Winnipeg, walked into the lobby and straight into Greyson.

“Oh, Lord,” she muttered at the glare on his face.

He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it. Upstairs, now. We have a lot to talk about—and Brent?” he added as the man stood behind Belle. “If you ever run off with my fiancée again and don’t make sure I know you’re leaving the damn country, you better be ready for my fist in your face.”

He stormed towards the elevators, and Belle sighed. “Sorry,” Brent said.

“No, he’s right to be mad. I should’ve made sure he knew. It’ll be fine,” she said with a smile and squeezed his hand. “See you in the morning.”

She followed Greyson and waited with him for the elevator. She told him what floor her room was on and he punched in the button angrily. The whole time they rode up, he didn’t speak, and Belle ran over and over in her mind what she could say to possibly make this any better. But the only words that came to mind were Bethany’s, telling them their mother was dead. When they’d reached the room, she slid the key card in and opened the door. Greyson walked in behind her, and the second the door closed, he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. His body thrummed with frantic energy, and she knew he was pissed.

“Don’t ever run off like that again,” he whispered. “You know how scared I was when Mom called saying she couldn’t find you?”

“I’m sorry. I tried to get ahold of you,” she said and tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just… He called, and it was our chance so we went. Then we got there, and they hate us. They didn’t want anything to do with us and our mom was a screw-up to them and—”

Greyson kissed her gently, cutting off her words. “Take a deep breath and calm down,” he said sternly. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water and order some food, and then you can tell me what happened.”

She nodded and, wiping her face, sat on the bed. He handed her a bottle of water from the mini fridge when the words tumbled out of her. “They hated my dad and mom ran off with him. She’s dead, Greyson, my mom’s dead. Left us at a church because she was dying of cancer and her own parents wouldn’t take us in! Who does that? They said I’m just like her, I’m a stain… We’re just stains to them.”

The tears came unbidden, and Greyson sat on the bed, picked her up, and held her in his lap as she cried like she hadn’t in years. She hated herself for it, hated the Tinsons for making her feel so terrible about herself in a damn five-minute conversation. She waited for Greyson to say something—anything—about it, but he simply held her, the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear soothing her, same as the warmth from his hands. He held her until the tears finally stopped and she leaned back to look up at him.

“I’m sorry I took off,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry and I wish… I wish I hadn’t.”

He breathed heavily out of his nose but shook his head. “You needed to go and I’m still pissed at you for it, but at least you have some answers.”

“Some, but not all. Our mom’s dead, but our dad… They don’t know what happened to him.”

Greyson frowned and his eyes darkened. “So he might still be alive?”

“It’s possible, but I don’t know if I want to find him… not after today.”

“In seven months, you’re going to be walking down an aisle to marry me,” he told her, cupping her face lovingly in his hands. “If I can find the man who should be there to walk beside you and give you away, then I will.”

He kissed her, his mouth capturing hers, full of heat and desire, passion, and anger. Belle accepted it all, kissing him back just as fiercely, hoping he knew how sorry she really was for scaring him like that.

“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered against his lips.

“You more than deserve me,” he replied. “Don’t ever forget that. I want you, Belle, always and forever. But,” he added as he lifted her up and set her back on the bed so he could stand, “I don’t think I’m going to be nice and order you ice cream.”

She shook her head and laughed. “I think I can go without that for a night.”

He smiled over his shoulder at her and picked up the phone to order dinner for them both. She picked up her cell, finally getting a signal, and texted Brent: Talk to you in the morning, we can start our hunt for dad.

She set her phone aside and smiled, glancing down at her belly. “Don’t worry, bear junior, we’ll find your grandpa. I promise.”