Tiny rays of sunshine peak through the gaps in the ratty curtains that hang from the windows. Any minute now, my baby will wake and demand his morning feed. Most days, this is a moment I dread because it means that I have to face another day with Jax. Today is different. Xander lies in the narrow bed next to me, his soft, regular breaths and solid presence offering a balm to my shattered soul.

We are free.

Well, as free as four people can be when all of the wealth and power that the St. George and Ray families wield is about rain down on their heads.

Baby Charlie begins to snuffle noisily in his makeshift crib. I slide out of the bed and go to him before he becomes annoyed at my delay in responding to him and makes enough noise to wake up Xander. On the way, I pass JJ and stop to brush a lock of his black hair from his forehead. My eldest is the spitting image of his father, yet I love him with a fierceness I never thought possible.

Another whimper comes from Charlie’s direction, reminding me that while he looks more like me, he’s definitely as demanding as his father. Peering into the dresser drawer that I used to create a crib for my three-month-old son last night, I gently nudge his pacifier back into his mouth before I pick him up.

“Hey, little man,” I coo. My son gives me a brilliant smile, then starts sucking on his pacifier like a he’s possessed. “Someone’s hungry, isn’t he?”

The fishing shack that Xander’s maternal grandfather left him when he passed away is a bit cramped at the best of times. With four people in here, it’s chaos. We arrived last night, tired and grumpy, and only interested in somewhere to lay down and sleep. Now, in the new light of a brand-new day, the less-than-stellar condition of the shack and its contents is more evident.

“I think we’ll need to do this outside,” I tell Charlie.

After taking one more peek at JJ to make sure that he’s not going to wake anytime soon, I unlatch the old, wooden door and head out into the beautiful late-spring morning. The air is crisp, but not cold. The sun is bright, and the water of the lake is crystal clear and completely calm.

Getting Charlie to latch is easy. He’s always starving first thing in the morning. I lay my head back against the wall of the shack and close my eyes.

We face so many problems—the biggest one is my current location.

Xander was never supposed to break into my house and rescue us. We had a plan in place to scare Jax into running so I could take the kids and fake our deaths. Not once did it cross my mind that my fiancé—for he has never stopped being that in my heart—would turn commando and take matters into his own hands.

“Morning,” Xander makes me jump when he interrupts my racing thoughts. He raises his arms above his head and stretches. A loud yawn rumbles from his chest and he covers his mouth with his hand, a self-conscious smile on his handsome face.

“Do you want some coffee?” Xander asks. He averts his eyes, and waves a hand in Charlie’s general direction. “I mean, I don’t know if you can while you’re doing that, but the offer’s there.”

By habit, I turn away from him, so I don’t gross him out further. I understand his reaction. I’ve seen it often. Jax doesn’t like seeing me feed our sons. He says it’s unnecessary for me to flaunt it—that I should go somewhere private, so I can be discreet.

Personally, I think that he didn’t like that it reminded him that he didn’t own every square inch of my body any longer. 

“Hey,” Xander croons. He pushes my shoulder with infinite softness until I’m facing him again. Meeting his apologetic gaze dulls the embarrassment I’m feeling, hearing his explanation wipes it away completely. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure whether you could have caffeine, that’s all.”

“No, it’s okay once he’s had his morning feed.” I shrug, trying for nonchalance and failing. “I can only manage one, though. He’s an eating machine. Two hourly feeds during the day, although he’s starting to sleep five to six hours at night.”

“Sounds...” Xander trails off, apparently searching for the right word. “Hectic.”

“It can be.”

The conversation dies. Xander sets about boiling water on the old stove that sits out the front of the shack while I give Charlie my full attention. A heaviness grows in the air as we try to ignore the situation we’re in.

Once Charlie is fed, I have nothing to distract myself. The tension becomes unbearable and I can’t take it anymore.

I have to say something.

“What happens now?”

Xander takes the seat next to me. He looks out over the lake, then to the ground, and back out to the lake. Charlie starts to fuss, and Xander surprises me by reaching over and taking him out of my lap. He bounces my son on his knee, contemplating the lake once more.

I’ve just about decided that he’s not going to give me an answer when he finally speaks. 

“I have a plan,” he nods as he says this. It feels like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to placate me. “If it works, then we should be on a plane to New Zealand by the end of the week at the very latest.”

Today is Sunday. That means I need to potentially make it through seven more days of craziness.

“And, what if it doesn’t work?” I verbalise the question that’s hanging in the air like a bad smell.

“We keep fighting until we find another way out.”

Charlie spits up down the front of his shirt. I take him from Xander, so I can clean him up. A gentle hand rests on my hip. I look down at Xander, confusion flooding my mind while affection beats a frenzy through my veins. His blue eyes crinkle around the edges and he silently pleads with me to stick with him.

I want to, but I’m not sure that I can.

He’s thrown a giant wrench in my plans.

And, I can’t bring myself to make promises I can’t keep.

Not when I’d throw him under the bus without a second thought if it came down to a choice between him and my boys.