Page 85 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

“I don’t like the doctor.”

Easton chuckled. “At last week’s appointment, you loved her. You invited her to the wedding.”

“She can forget that invitation now.”

He reached across the cab of the truck and took my hand, holding it as we bumped down the road. “We’ll get the car to California. It’s just not going to be for a while.”

“A long while.” My shoulders fell. “I need to call Londyn.”

“She’s not going to care.”

“She might.”

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “She won’t.”

My fiancé was right. Londyn wouldn’t care about the car. Hell, she’d had it in West Virginia for a year before I’d taken it on my adventure. Mostly, I was pouting because the doctor’s news was not what I’d hoped to hear.

As of today, I was on activity rest. I’d be trapped inside the house for months while I finished growing this baby. And the trip that we’d planned to take to California in three weeks was on hiatus. Neither Easton nor I would risk being on the road with the warning light on this pregnancy.

“I hate this,” I muttered. “I’m scared.”

He looked across the cab. “It’s going to be okay.”

“What if we can’t get my blood pressure down?”

“We will.”

I found it cruelly ironic. If the doctor didn’t want me stressed during the remainder of my pregnancy, she shouldn’t have told me all the bad stuff that could happen.

She was definitely not invited to our wedding.

The day Easton had stopped me from leaving and given me his caveman proposal, we’d spent alone at the house. He’d brought in my things and had helped me unpack, moving me into his house—our house. And that night, he’d insisted we go to family dinner.

We’d walked in the door at Carol and Jake’s, and before anyone could react to the fact that I wasn’t on my way to California or scold me for leaving a note, he’d announced we were engaged.

Two weeks later, he’d come home with a diamond ring.

Two weeks after that, I’d come home with pregnancy tests.

So far, this pregnancy had been a cakewalk. I hadn’t had any morning sickness and my energy levels had been great. But two weeks ago, I’d gone in for a routine checkup and the doctor had worried that my blood pressure was higher than normal. This week was more of the same. If next week’s checkup was a continuation, I’d have to take medication, something I’d avoided completely since my pregnancy test had shown positive.

I was eating healthy. I was getting exercise. But the anxiety of growing a human and becoming a mother was getting to me.

I hadn’t exactly had a good role model during my formative years.

“I just want the baby to be okay.” I stroked my belly, taking deep breaths.

“He will be.” Easton clutched my hand. “You both will be.”

It would be easier to believe him if his nerves weren’t coming through his voice and there wasn’t a worry line between his eyebrows.

Easton was over the moon that we were having a boy. Last month, he’d gone into Missoula with the trailer to pick up some specialty mineral supplements for the livestock, and while he’d been at the farm and ranch supply store, he’d found a pair of baby cowboy boots. And a baby cowboy hat. And a baby pair of felt chaps.

The getup was currently in the nursery closet, awaiting the day when he’d be old enough to wear them and I’d take a million photos.

Easton had also told Cash that the best colt born this year was ours.

Maybe I hadn’t had good parents, but I was lucky that the man at my side would more than compensate for my shortcomings. And we could lean into our family.