then. How many times, as a teenager, had she wished on it for her and Chance to be together?
Forever.
She ran her hand across her abdomen. That wish had come true now. They may not be physically together, but a part of him would be with her forever. And a part of her would love him forever, though it was a part she would keep in a secret place—the way she was sure her mom did with her feelings for Mason Rawlings.
She wouldn’t be like her mom, wouldn’t move from man to man trying to find someone who could fill the empty space. The baby would be all she needed.
Someday, she might meet a man who would complete the circle. But she wouldn’t need him. She might love him. Might want him. Might even marry him. But she would never need him.
Of course, he’d have to be a fabulous father—that would be the first criterion. He’d have to be a person she could trust. Someone who would never, ever leave.
Mason Rawlings, her three stepdads, Chance. They’d taught her how not to trust, and she wouldn’t make any mistakes this time. For the rest of her life, this child would be her number-one priority, hers to love and nurture and protect.
She grabbed the purple Grateful Dead teddy bear from the pillow and hugged it close, marveling at the ferocity of the protective instinct already present.
She would have to provide for her baby from Day One.
Getting a good job had suddenly become more important than ever.
* * *
JACI RINSED THE EMPTY ice cream bowls and placed them in the dishwasher, her head still spinning with the news. Kyndal pregnant with Chance’s baby. It was like she was watching a bad soap opera and couldn’t change the channel.
She filled the soap dispenser and shut the door. Why did life have to suck so much? She and Bart had tried to have a baby but lost it. Kyndal hadn’t been trying, but was having one. Bart would be thrilled to be a father. Her gut told her Chance wouldn’t have that reaction, but she prayed she was wrong.
If I’d cut his balls off like I wanted to the first time he hurt her, this wouldn’t have happened.
She punched the button harder than necessary, and the sound of swishing water filled the kitchen.
Who was she kidding? She could blame Chance all she wanted, but she was the real blame behind all of this.
“Hey, babe,” Bart called from the other room. “Would you fix me a cup of coffee?”
“Okay.” She placed a pod in the coffeemaker and waited while the liquid brewed.
All of this could’ve been avoided if I’d kept my mouth shut.
Kyndal wouldn’t have gone back to the cave with Chance…wouldn’t have almost died…wouldn’t be pregnant now.
Overwhelming guilt weakened her knees. She leaned on the counter for support.
What did this show her about the kind of mother she’d be? She blinked back the tears that burned her eyes.
A good mother anticipated danger, she didn’t send her child into it deliberately. She thought back to her childhood and how often her mother had warned, “Jaci, don’t…”
The coffee finished brewing. She took the cup and stared into it, the dark liquid reminding her of Kyndal’s descriptions of the blackness in the depths of the cave. How terrified she must’ve been—and in pain with a broken ankle.
She stirred in some cream and watched the black change to tan.
Life’s bitterness can’t be taken away with a swish of something stirred in. But then she thought of Bart—the something that mellowed any bitterness that came into her life.
Despite what he kept insisting, he wanted a baby, and her head kept telling her she should want to give him one. But this ordeal with Kyndal made her doubt her capabilities more than ever.
She picked up the cup and started for the living room, pausing at the light switch. Since she was a child, she’d always hated turning a light off when she left a room—afraid something would grab her out of the dark.
She flipped the switch off with a shudder and hurried out.
I’m such a coward, she thought.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHANCE PAUSED FOR A MINUTE before he got out of the car. Never had he imagined sitting here again, in this driveway, in front of this house.
The small, green tract home hadn’t changed much. The crack running through the middle of the front stoop had never been patched. The shutter to the left of Kyndal’s bedroom window still hung slightly askew. The giant maple