Page 64 of Afterglow

There’s an echo of that night in my brain even now. Bryce’s gruff words of command and praise. My own pleasure barely leashed in a way I’ve experienced with very few partners—if any. The sounds of the creek and of music playing around us—a perfect symphony for everything we were doing.

That night was electric and the same awareness that brought me to life then was just as present in Bryce’s bedroom earlier. And that’s the danger that would be ever present if we lived together, even with a kid in the mix. Of course, the attraction might dwindle once I have the baby and my entire body changes…

Bryce’s hand covers mine on the steering wheel now that I’ve stopped in front of the big house on the hill, and butterflies go wild in my belly at the small touch.

The glow of the sun setting behind us shines in the large windows of the house, creating a bright and welcoming appearance. Not at all scary, even if I’m trembling with nerves right now.

I swallow back the huge lump in my throat and finally look at Bryce.

“Blondie, there’s nothing to worry about,” he says, lifting my hand to brush it against his lips. He uses the other to push a lock of hair behind my ear, eliciting a shiver. “You ready?”

“No.” A nervous laugh escapes and I hope it covers up just how true that sentiment is.

“It’ll be fine, I promise.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, and his beard rasps softly against my skin. This kiss is as chaste as the one I gave him after he asked me to move in, but nothing feels truly chaste with this man… As evidenced by my reaction to his hand on my ankle earlier.

I nod and exit the car, needing the space and fresh air to ground me. With a crunch of gravel under boots, Bryce strides toward me in his standard heavy flannel jacket and jeans, comfortable and relaxed.

The house is mostly built with stone and exposed wood beams. The wraparound porch looks like the perfect spot to curl up with a cup of tea. It’s beautiful, and so is Bryce—though I doubt he’d care for that description. But even with the rugged manliness of who he is, there’s a beauty to him I find striking… and it’s probably because he cares so deeply.

He twines his fingers with mine, but I freeze on the steps facing the house. “What have you told them again?”

He runs his hand along his beard and the raspy sound brings back memories that shouldn’t be present at this particular moment.

“They know you’re pregnant, and that it wasn’t exactly planned, but they don’t know all the details,” he says this with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Meaning they don’t know we banged in one of the tents sitting on their property. That’s something at least. “And they know we’re friends.”

Friends. That is what we agreed to—what I wanted us to be. But with his proposal to move in with him and the tension coiling around us, tighter and tighter, I keep wondering if there’s more. But more requires putting my insecurities aside, ones screaming he didn’t like me enough when we met to want more than a single fuck. Then again, I didn’t like him much either, and that’s clearly changed… Maybe it’s changed for him too? I want to believe the best of him, but I can’t fully let go of the notion that he’s only here because he’s a good man and I’m pregnant, not because he wants me.

“And, um, how do they feel about all of this? You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? You were married to their daughter after all.” His late wife’s family is on the other side of these doors, and in my mind, they’d want nothing to do with me. The woman their widower son-in-law impregnated on accident.

He squeezes my hand and pulls me forward. “If it was a problem, I wouldn’t have brought you here, Leanne. Why don’t you come in and see for yourself how they feel about it?”

Beneath his dark beard is his wide smile and it brings with it a wave of peace that eases my nerves. I nod and blow out a big breath, like a pressure release valve, and hope I can get through this night without throwing up.

Oh my god, why didn’t I think about that? What if they’re making steak or something? It’s the only thing that still makes me nauseous on sight, and this is a ranch for goodness’ sake. I should’ve clarified to ensure I don’t embarrass myself at yet another family function. But before I can inquire, Bryce tugs me toward the wooden front door inlaid with glass panels and a large brass knocker to match the handle.

I focus on his big hand as he pushes the door open, his other squeezing mine in a gentle rhythm. It reminds me of our first doctor’s appointment together—three small squeezes of comfort.

The entryway flows directly into the main area of the house, which is cozy and inviting. If I were to envision what a Montana ranch house might look like inside, this is it. Live edge wood and river rock, browns and creams and greens, soft textures melding with rugged ones. It’s a style I never would’ve imagined caring for—being more of a clean, crisp, modern girl myself—but it’s homey and welcoming. Similar to the way Bryce’s house feels.

And speaking of welcoming…

“Leanne!” Rebecca’s sing-song voice reverberates off the high ceiling as she rounds the corner from what I assume is the kitchen. She has an apron tied around her waist, covering her sweater and jeans, and her brown waves are tied up in a high ponytail.

If she has any reservations about my being here considering she’s my doctor, I can’t see them. She pulls me in for an unexpected hug—one I couldn’t appreciate more if I tried. It’s like having another ally in this unknown situation.

Bryce’s rumbling chuckle comes from beside us. “Let her breathe, Becca.”

She sticks her tongue out at him before wrapping him in an equally fervent hug.

This is his family—even if it’s less conventional than mine.

Without preamble, Rebecca grabs us each by the hand and hauls us into the kitchen.

The woman at the stove looks a lot like her but with grey streaked through her dark hair and laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. The man beside her, who’s got a hand on her hip, is harder to see because his face is pressed to the top of her head, planting a tender kiss there.

“Delia, Alex, this is Leanne,” Bryce says, and I feel his touch at the small of my back in a gesture of support. I chant I will not throw up inside my head and pray the nerves will settle.

Delia wipes her hands on a towel and comes around the cooktop, beaming. “It’s so nice to meet you, Leanne.” She wraps me in a warm embrace.