"I brought wine!" Alex sing-songed as she danced up the drive. She swung a bottle bigger than her forearm as she came.

Lana had been sitting on the porch for the last ten minutes as she waited for her friend to arrive. She had enjoyed the cool breeze that almost lacked the singed smell of burning wood. Maybe it was just her imagination playing tricks on her after seeing the latest news report, but it really felt as if the wildfire was finally passing Cedar Springs by. She attributed any late-night feelings of misgiving to everything else that was going on with her.

She rose to greet Alex with a hug. Her lips tugged up in a smile. "You always bring wine," she noticed.

"And you always help me drink it," Alex agreed as they went inside together. The other woman took the liberty of grabbing two glasses out of Lana's cabinet before joining her in the living room.

When Alex went to pour the wine, Lana held out her hand. "Sorry, Alex. I'm afraid I won't be much help to you tonight." Or for the next eight-plus months, she thought dismally, though she didn't say as much out loud. She still wasn't certain she wanted to bring anyone else in on her secret.

But she should have known better, dealing with a nurse as intuitive as Alex. It was as if the other woman read the silent addendum in her mind. Alex's eyes skated her up and down, and she leaped suddenly out of her chair.

Her reaction was so unexpected that Lana glanced at herself in alarm. Had a spider dropped from the ceiling onto her? Had she forgotten to put a shirt on? Had she suddenly, insanely, gained all of her baby weight in the span of a single glance?

"You're pregnant," Alex stated. Her flat affect was a stark contrast to the wired, ready-to-act posture of her body.

Lana bowed her head.

"When?" Alex demanded.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific in your questioning," Lana said gently. She reached to coax Alex back down onto the couch cushion beside her. "When did it happen? When is the due date?"

"When were you planning to tell me?"

Lana shook her head. "Alex, honestly. I practically just found out myself."

"Does anyone else know?" her friend exclaimed.

"I think Dyna suspects." Lana winced.

"Does the father . . .? Oh, God, the father. Lana!" Alex pressed a hand to her forehead. "Is Hank the father?"

Lana winced again.

Alex was working things out without any help. "Of course he's the father. What am I saying? You've been faithful to that damn man for the past ten years." Alex ran her fingers through her hair, then snatched Lana's hand and leaned in.

Lana didn't lean away from her intensity. She felt . . . relieved at finally having someone know the truth. Never mind that she hadn't been able to say it to herself in so many words. Baby steps, she thought. And how true that expression has become for you.

"You have to tell him, Lana." Alex's blue eyes were sharp and earnest.

"I know." Lana squeezed her hands. "I'm not keeping it a secret from him on purpose, Alex. It's just . . . I have to find the right time. And every time it finally seems like the right moment rolls around, I can't bring myself to. I'm not trying to keep it to myself. I'm just afraid . . ." Her throat closed on the word, but she persevered.

This was Alex. Alex had been through her own hell, and she was the last person who would judge Lana now. ". . . I'm afraid what we've started is so fragile already. There are so many outcomes now. So many answers Hank could give me . . . and I'm afraid only one in a hundred will be something I want to hear."

"You once told me Landon was a good man," Alex stressed. "Lana, it's my sworn duty to tell you now that Hank is a good man."

Lana bowed her head. "I know he is."

"Do you really think, knowing about the baby, that he would just up and leave you? Of course he would stay! Hell, he might invite you to move to Alaska with him!"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of!" Lana said urgently, lifting her head to stare into her friend’s eyes. "Alex, if the baby is what makes him decide he wants a life with me . . . how can I ever be sure it was really what he wanted?” She took a deep breath. “I want Hank to make the choice. I don't want a surprise circumstance between us to force his hand."

Alex's mouth twisted in sympathy. They were both silent for a long moment. Finally, Alex broke from her long enough to pour herself a brimming glass of wine. She swigged it down like water.

Lana massaged her forehead and hid a faint smile. "Yeah. Wish I could join you in that," she said eventually.

"Well, you can't keep it from him forever," Alex said after a pause. "It'd be wrong to let Hank go through life not knowing there's a kid out there—a kid he fathered.”

"I know." Lana laced and unlaced her hands. "I just . . . is it wrong to want him to come back to me because we love each other—and miss each other?"

"Of course it isn't." Alex folded Lana into her arms, then, and Lana sighed gratefully. She didn't care if a little wine sloshed over the side of the glass and colored some of her hair.

"Please keep my secret, Alex. At least, for now."

"I really hate this," Alex said as she drew back. "But I'll do it. For you. Just promise me you'll tell him soon."

"I promise."

The front door eased open then, and both women jumped. Alex quickly, thoughtfully, grabbed up their glasses (with Lana's still unused) and ferried them into the kitchen.

Hank poked his head in. "Lana? You got company?"

"Alex came by after work," Lana explained. Her heart hammering so hard she feared it would the break the walls of her ribcage. If Hank had come home even a second sooner . . .

"Hey, Hank," Alex said as she returned. "I was just on my way out." She snatched up the wine bottle and corked it.

"You don't have to leave on my account," Hank said.

"That's all right. I've gotta get home and . . . feed the cat. And the dog.” Alex smiled suddenly and added, “And then let Landon feed me."

Hank nodded. "All right. Take care. And tell Landon to check in with me in the next twenty-four hours."

"Will do. Good night, Lana. And good luck." Alex fixed her with a last meaningful look before departing.

"What was that about?" Hank asked as he joined her in the living room.

Lana twisted a strand of hair nervously around her finger. "She’s had a few glasses of wine." It was a lame excuse. She was just glad Alex had left before the other girl could realize she was getting thrown under the bus.

"Yeah? How many did you have?"

"I—"

Hank’s lips were on hers before she could give him an answer. Relief washed over her, and it wasn't just that he had inadvertently rescued her from having to respond to his question. His kisses were a balm to her aching heart, and the solution that always dissolved all her inner worries. It was too easy to get swept up by him.

"Hm. I don't taste any," he noticed as he pulled back.

Lana sighed. "I can tell you've been to the bar." The sharp, smoky note of whiskey lingered on his tongue. She dearly hoped that deeply kissing an inebriated Hank didn't count as partaking, herself. "Unless they started pouring shots at the meeting?"

"May as well have. The way the county commissioner was going on, you'd think his department reached out and squashed the fire singlehandedly. I'm surprised they found the time, considering all the back-patting they've been doing."

"But the fire's still burning, isn't it?" Lana turned into him as he joined her on the couch. "And now they're saying the one down south—"

"Lana." The heavy look in his eyes would have interrupted her even if he hadn't said her name. "I love you."

Lana stared. After a few seconds, she looked down and realized she was trembling. It felt like her bones were vibrating inside her, like his sudden confession had the power to resonate inside her for all eternity. She had heard him say those words only once before, in the moments they had stolen together the night Michael died. There had been no time for anything afterward, no time to examine or revisit, or . . .

"It's not the alcohol talking," Hank whispered.

"I know it isn't." And she did. "I think I'd know it if you didn't mean it, Hank."

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry?" He cupped her face in his hand. Lana leaned into it and clenched her eyes closed over the threat of tears.

"It's been so long since I heard those words . . ." she whispered. "And the last person to say them to me was you. I've never forgotten—"

"Neither have I. I tried to forget, Lana. I tried to forget the accident, tried to forget Cedar Springs. I tried to forget you."

She reached up to grip his hand. She knew it already, but hearing him say it in almost the same breath he told her he loved her hurt. People didn't leave as abruptly as he had if they wanted to remember.

"I couldn't," Hank whispered.

"I couldn't, either. I told myself I needed to move on. That life here without you wasn't a true life, when all I could keep thinking about was that you might return."

"You knew me better than I knew myself." Hank smiled ruefully. "I couldn't stay away any longer, Lana. The minute I heard about the fire, I came. They didn't even call me first. I called the station to let them know I was already on my way."

"You never needed an excuse to come back to me!" she sobbed. Now the tears spilled freely down her face.

"God, Lana. What do we do? We can't just pick up where we left off."

"I don't want to pick up where we left off." She caught his face between her hands. "I want you as you are, now."

"Lana . . ." he groaned and appeared ready to say something more. If she knew Hank, he was going to try and make a case against himself now, try and dissuade her from accepting what he had just offered. But it was love, his love, on the line.

And now that she knew it was still there, had always been there, there wasn't a chance of her letting it go again.

She leaned into him and ended the conversation by sealing it with a kiss. Hank froze for a moment; it was enough to make Lana second-guess her aggression and display of her sudden, intense need for him to feel what she was saying. She drew back and stared into his stricken eyes.

But Hank's direct gaze disappeared in the next instant as he closed his eyes and dove back in. His mouth collided with hers, and Lana gasped to avoid a clash of teeth.

Hank took full advantage of the opening. His hot tongue snaked its way in and slid against hers. Lana had to fence with it just to keep up.

Their bodies came together as their lips and tongues danced. Hank dragged her the rest of the way across the couch and in against him. Lana hiked her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. She could feel the hard stiffness of him through the front of his jeans. The sensation never stopped causing her heart to tremble with anticipation for what came next.

She was in his lap, now, with the zipper of his fly catching on the cotton of her panties. His hands roamed down to flare her dress out and expose her hips. She hooked her ankles behind his back and all but leapt into the hands that came around back behind her to cradle her ass.

I should tell him. The intrusive thought came then like a lightning strike sizzling across her mind. Tell him, Lana, before it's too late.

But nothing felt too late in that moment. Everything was searingly present. No sooner had the thought occurred to her than Hank was rearing up, pressing her against him and taking her with him. He swung her around, but rather than take her to the bedroom as might be expected, he turned and deposited her beneath him on the couch.

Lana reached down to help him shed her panties. Tell him. Tell him.

"I love you, Hank." She cheated out of telling him the truth by making another, almost equally shattering admission.

Hank groaned and buried his face in her neck. "Love you," he growled back. "I can't stop thinking about you. Every time I get you alone, I can't help myself. I have to have you."

"I'm yours. I've always been yours. Take me."

Her hands were already pinned between their bodies, so she helped him wrench his zipper open. She yanked his jeans, along with his boxers, down the tightly-muscled hill of his ass. There was no part of him that wasn't honed by years of fighting fires—and working out in anticipation of fighting fires. She let her fingers linger along his flanks and sucked in a breath of anticipation.

She was his, as she’d promised. But he never failed to make her his. He slid a hand down between her legs, fingering her entrance with burning touches that soon had her writhing, had her slick and wanting and pressing against his hand. When he took that hand away, full minutes later, she didn't regret the absence.

She knew what was coming. Hank took his thick cock by the shaft, positioned himself, and slid inside her.

Guilt warred with an almost complete transcendence in the moment as Hank filled her and moved within her. Her body rocked back against the couch, and she wrapped her arms around the strong column of his neck as he thrust into her. Her eyes locked with his, until the intensity, the unfettered love in his gaze, was too much. She looked over his tensing shoulders at the ceiling and willed herself to rise on a cloud of pleasure toward the sky.

But she couldn't. Her guilt at not being able to reveal her secret weighed her down. She hadn't outright lied to Alex about her unwillingness to confess to Hank, but maybe that was only because she had been lying to herself. The opportunity to tell him kept coming, and going, and going, and . . .

She came with a shuddering cry, and finally, her confusion and uncertainty fled her. A few more thrusts, and Hank emptied himself inside her with a deep groan of satisfaction.

All around her, the world continued to spin. Lana realized belatedly that the room had only changed dimensions and direction because Hank had lifted her up off the couch and was now carrying her like a conquered prize to the bedroom. She nestled her head in against his neck as he deposited her in the bed, then sagged down on the mattress beside her.

He still hasn't told you he's going to stay, she reminded herself as she pillowed her head on his chest. Maybe she was only coming up with excuses now for not telling him about the baby, but she still couldn't bring herself to make her own confession. It was one thing for Hank to say he loved her, and to express it in a way that she believed . . . but would love be enough to keep them together? It hadn't been, the first time they tried this.

I'll tell him. I'll tell him, just as soon as I know for certain he's staying.

Lana listened to his heartbeat, strong and constant, and let it lull her into dreamless sleep. There was nothing else left for her brain to conjure, or her heart to desire. She had it all.

Almost.