Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,58
asked.
The air too heavy to breathe, she dragged his hand down to the small swell of her stomach. “I’m happy.” She said it nice and clear so he could hear the truth in her voice. “I love him. And I love… I love…”
“Say it fast and then it’s done.”
“I love you,” she forced out in a whisper. “I would never resent you. You have given me more gifts than you will ever realize. Will you resent me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, instead of answering her question.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of what? Of me?”
“Of you leaving. Of you thinking I’d done this on purpose. You are it, Quickdraw. You’re the best bucking bull shifter in the world, and you’re wealthy now. I didn’t want you to ever question if that was why I was here.”
“I would’ve never questioned that, silly wolf. I know you. I know your intentions. I was the one who kept begging you to come here.”
“You said you don’t want commitment or children, and here I come, an entire package of complications.”
“You aren’t a complication. You could never be a complication, and do you know why?”
“Why?” she squeaked out, feeling like she would spill a hundred tears.
“Because I’m happy, too. With you.” He cupped her belly and rubbed gently. “I want both of you.”
“Truth,” she whispered.
“I want you to make me a promise.”
“Okay,” she said, nuzzling her face against his chest. He was already warming up under the covers with her. “What promise?”
“You have to promise to never question why I’m here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I never want you to think I’m here just because we got pregnant. Even on our bad days. Even on the days I’m failing at understanding what you need from me. Even on the imperfect days. I want to build and not question that shit. Just, eyes forward, focus on what we’re doing, and go for it. Go for the life we want. I know how I feel about you, and I built that before I knew you were growin’ our boy. I loved you before I knew you were having my son.”
He loved her. Loved her. The way he said “my son” made her hug him even tighter. She was loved. She was coveted. She was important. “Okay, Quickdraw, I promise.”
“And in return, I’ll never, not even for a second, question why you’re with me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He eased out of her hug and rolled her onto her back, cupped her belly, and pressed his cheek against it. “Can I name him?”
“As long as it’s not Bullcrap or Lima Bean or Moocephus. Dead has been coming up with awful names all week.”
His hoarse laugh loosened something in her soul she hadn’t known had tightened up.
“I want us to name him something I always told myself I would name a son if I ever had one. I was the last of the Burns, but now this little wolf will carry on the name.”
“And what if he’s a bull?”
“Don’t matter to me either way. The name will still suit him.”
“What’s his name?” she asked, massaging Quickdraw’s head as he kissed her tummy.
“Tuff Enough Fast Burn. We’ll call our boy Tuff for short.”
“Tuff Enough,” she murmured, forming the name carefully. It felt important to get the name just right the first time she uttered it. “Tuff Enough Fast Burn, heart of Annabelle Faulk, son of Quickdraw Slow Burn.”
He grinned up at her, then scooted closer and kissed her lips. “If he’s a bull, I’ll teach him everything I know. He’ll be better than I ever was.”
“And if he’s a wolf?”
Quickdraw’s grin was slow and proud. “Then he’ll be the best rider this world has ever seen.”
Epilogue
She’d kept her promise.
Annabelle had kept her promise to never question why Quickdraw was with her and, now, eight weeks later, she was here, in a happy moment she’d never imagined would belong to her.
The leaves stirred in the cool spring breeze as she looked at Quickdraw’s face down the aisle. She gripped more firmly onto the crook of her father’s arm.
At the front, under a floral arch, Quickdraw stood with his brothers, his best friends, his herd—Dead of Winter and Two Shots. The boys all wore their nicest Wrangler jeans, new boots, and white button-down shirts under dark blue blazers. They had on their white cowboy hats, of course, and each had a red Azalea pinned to their jacket pocket.
On the other side stood Raven and Cheyenne in beautiful, flowing, soft pink gowns.
Eyes burning with happy tears, Annabelle looked