Page 68 of Once Upon a Lie

He chuckles, but as he turns back to his task, I turn back to the feel of his tongue on mine.

I’ve been too careful for too long. Too closed off. Too . . . scared.

But not anymore. After that kiss, when it comes to Shane Maddox, I’m ready for anything.

And soon.

23

Shane

Tuesday, October 19

12:30 p.m.

It’s been two days since the Great Gym Heist, and my phone hasn’t been quiet since.

Teeny and I have been texting nonstop. Mostly random shit—bagel disasters, Rita Fortune jokes, and her trying to give me more book recommendations despite my absolute snail pace on the first.

It’s my favorite part of the day, getting those texts from her; so much so, I’ve almost forgotten it’s work.

I park outside Nashville General Hospital, grab the coffee carrier filled with fresh brews from Dunn Coffee, and check my phone before heading in.

Valentina: ​​Quick question before I go back to the lunch rush . . . what are your dinner plans tonight?​​

I can practically hear her voice when I read it—bright and a little teasing. I can even picture that cute little dimple in her right cheek when she smiles.

I type back while crossing the parking lot.

Me: ​​Depends. Are we going to spend it doing more tasks from the chore chart if I say I’m free?​​

Valentina: ​​It’s a chore Board, and no. Alfred’s cooking. He said to bring “that nice young man who isn’t very good at Scrabble but fixed the sinks.”​​

Me: ​​Hey, now. I’m good at Scrabble. I just wasn’t warmed up the other night.​​

Valentina: ​​Uh huh. Sure. So you in? Alfred’s planning on making Fettuccini Alfredo.​​

Me: ​​Alfredo from Alfred? Sounds like something I can’t miss.​​

Valentina: ​​My thoughts exactly. See you around 7:30?​​

Me: ​​I’ll be there.​​

I’m grinning like an idiot when I step into the lobby of the hospital and hop onto an empty elevator to head up to the maternity floor. The smell of hospital-grade disinfectant is practically swallowing me whole, and I resort to breathing through my mouth to quell the potential headache.

The fifth-floor maternity ward smells like sanitizer and baby powder, and I head to the room Dom told me Hannah was in.

He spots me the second I walk inside the door, grinning like a man who’s just been handed the winning lottery ticket. He looks exhausted, with his hair sticking up and dark circles under his eyes, and his shirt is wrinkled as shit, but I swear, he’s fucking glowing like a pregnant woman.

“Hey, partner. Thanks for coming,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make time for us today.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dom,” I say, holding up the coffee carrier filled with fresh brews. “High-intensity federal operation or not, I wouldn’t miss this.”

Hannah’s sitting up in bed, holding their new bundle of joy in her arms and radiating happiness. Sure, her hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she looks tired, but damn, she looks beautiful too.

“Hey, Han,” I say, smiling at her. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Shane,” she says. “It was a bit of a rough delivery. Very speedy.” She grimaces and laughs. “If it wasn’t for Dom, I think I would’ve delivered in the parking lot.”