Singularity (Stars Align Book 2) Page 5

  I expected him to be angry, because he’s always been so protective of the three of us.

  His calm reaction is what makes me break. The weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders crumbles. I choke back a sob and his arm only tightens around me. He leans down, whispering in my ear, “I got you, Cam. No matter what, yeah?”

  Sniffling, I nod and take the seat beside him.

  I force myself to explain the situation. The one-night stand. How I have absolutely no way to contact the father because we didn’t exchange names.

  They ask questions. I answer them honestly.

  The conversation is awkward, to say the least.

  We’ve always been an open family but having to sit here and explain that despite two forms of birth control, I’m having a baby by a man whose name I don’t know...well, it’s hard. Embarrassing. Uncomfortable. But necessary.

  All my worry was for nothing.

  Deep down, I’m sure I knew, but I’m relieved. I’m no longer alone in this.

  As everyone starts to leave, Holden asks me to hang back and stick around for a while.

  I’m not sure what more he could possibly have to say since we completely exhausted the conversation about my pregnancy, but I feel I owe it to him to stay.

  I start to help take the last of the dishes back to the kitchen and he tries to stop me, insisting I don’t need to help.

  “You’re not going to treat me like I’m fragile, Holden. I’m not an invalid. I’m pregnant, and perfectly capable of carrying some plates.”

  Chuckling, he gestures for me to go ahead of him as he holds the door open. “Never did take any shit from me, Cam. Should have figured you wouldn’t start now.”

  “Duh,” I tease, dropping the plates in the sink.

  I walk over to the stainless-steel prep table and lift myself up. My legs dangle, but my feet don’t touch the floor. Holden doesn’t give me any crap for planting my ass on his prep table, he just shakes his head and starts washing the dishes.

  It reminds me of the times growing up when our parents would be out of town and Holden would cook for us. I always sat on the counter to keep him company while he worked.

  “I’m gonna be honest with you, Camille. I fuckin’ hate that you’re in this situation.” My eyes dart to his as he glances over at me. “But despite what you might think...you don’t have to do this alone.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” He asks, giving me a pointed look. When I don’t respond, he keeps going. “I’m always gonna look out for you. Protect you as much as possible. Have your back. This isn’t any different. I’m here for you. Whatever you need. You get a random craving. Call me. Need someone to go to your appointments with you? I’m there. All you have to do is say the word.”

  Hopping off the table, I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Love you, big brother.”

  “Love you too, Cam.” He turns, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “And I’m gonna love your little one just as much.”

  We make quick work of the rest of the cleanup and go back out into the bar. I can sense there’s something else he needs to say, but for some reason he’s hesitating. It’s not like Holden to hold back.

  “Out with it.”

  He’s got his forearms leaning on the bar top, head hung a little low. He turns to look at me, and sighs. “I think I fucked up.”

  My head flinches back and my brows knit, but I don’t get a chance to ask him what he means.

  “A couple weeks ago a guy came into the bar. Seemed like a friendly guy.” He shrugs. “He was asking questions about the new name and whatnot. Then he started talking about how he met a girl here a couple months back but didn’t get her name. I didn’t think much of it until he asked if maybe I might know her. It got my defenses up a bit, ya know? Some guy I don’t know wants information about some girl? No way in hell I’m gonna trust that shit.”

  “I hear you. I’d feel the same way. But do you think...I mean maybe?”

  I don’t want to get my hopes up, but how can I not?

  “Maybe it was him?” He asks. “Yeah, Cam. I do. I asked him to describe the girl because he said she seemed close to the bartender that was working that night.”

  He’s drawing this out and it’s killing me.

  “And?”

  “He described you.”

  I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until the pent-up air comes rushing out of me.

  “Did you...did he—”

  Solemnly, he shakes his head. “I told him I couldn’t help him. I’m sorry, Cam. If I’d known...maybe I would have—”

  “No, it’s okay.” I rush out. “It’s not your fault. You were only trying to protect me. I can’t be mad at you for it.”

  “Still.” He sighs. “I didn’t get his name or anything, but I remember him saying he moved to town recently. So maybe there’s a chance you’ll run into him somewhere.”

  “Yeah...maybe.”

  EIGHT

  Ryan

  Morris pulls the cruiser into the small lot beside The Sweet Spot and parks. It’s the beginning of our shift—we left the station less than ten minutes ago—so the stop can only mean one thing.

  Shane Morris is a good guy, and a damn good partner so far, but he’s got one a hell of a sweet tooth. He must spend a ton of time at the gym to stay in peak physical condition, given all the junk he eats.

  “There a reason we’re here?” I ask, glancing over at him.

  “Donuts. What else?” He says with a grin. Stepping out of the car, he adjusts his utility belt. “I was running late this morning. Didn’t have time to stop before work.”

  Chuckling, I get out and follow him around the building.

  I’ve never been here before, though I know enough about the place to make it feel like I have. Hannah’s told me all about the “cute” little bakery and all the yummy treats she gets during her weekly “girl dates” with my mom. I’m not much for sweets, but a steaming cup of coffee sounds damn good right about now.

  I’m about to tease Morris for being a complete donut-eating-cop cliché, but the words get caught in my throat as we near the door and my attention is snagged by what—rather who—I see inside.

  Holy fuck.

  It’s her.

  Through the storefront’s glass window, I can see her standing behind the counter. She’s smiling at an old woman and a little boy at one of the tables as she takes payment from the customer on the opposite side of the counter. Her hair is no longer blue, but I’d recognize her face—her smile—anywhere.

  Gorgeous.

  It’s only when Morris laughs that I realize I’ve said it out loud.

  “Yeah, she is. But that one’s taken, my friend.” He pulls open the door and I follow, something vicious and ugly swirling in my gut.

  Taken?

  “Hey y’all, welcome to The Sweet Spot!” she greets cheerily.

  Her voice isn’t what I remember, and she’s looking directly at me, but her face shows no signs of recognition. Her gaze doesn’t linger, and my brows knit when she looks away, turning her attention back to the line of hungry patrons at the counter.

  Am I that unforgettable? Our night obviously left a longer lasting impression on me than it did on her.

  I shake it off, quickly joining Morris at the back of the line.

  I’ll wait my turn, then talk to her.

  I watch her attentively, hoping for...hell, I don’t know what I’m hoping for, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

  Moments later, she turns to move toward the glass display case, and it becomes extremely clear that this is not the right girl.

  She’s pregnant.

  Like, she looks ready to pop, pregnant.

  I guess it could be her, but she would have already been pregnant when we hooked up. If that’s the case, and Morris says she’s taken...I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with the implications of w
hat that would mean.

  No matter what, I need to talk to her.

  The girl behind the counter is either Gorgeous, and not the person I thought she’d be, or she’s related to her. They’re identical. Twins, if I had to guess.

  Four more people ahead of us in line.

  I still can’t take my eyes off her, even if she might not be the right one.

  Because she looks like her.

  Three more people.

  A call comes over the radio.

  Morris looks at the line in front of us, looks at me, and shakes his head.

  Duty calls.

  “What can you tell me about the girl from the bakery?” I ask Morris once we’re back in the cruiser, en route to a small farm on the outskirts of town.

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, partner. She’s married. Happily.” He glances over at me. “You don’t seem like the type, but I’m gonna say it anyway—don’t go there. She wouldn’t give you the time of day even if you tried, but her husband and older brother would make your life miserable. They’re protective of her, of all those girls, actually. I can’t say I blame ‘em. Not after what that poor girl went through.”

  Something in his tone sets me on edge. There’s a story there. One I’m dying to know, but first I want to set one thing straight.

  “You’re damned right I’m not the type. Getting between people in a relationship? Nah, that’s not my style. I’m only curious. She looked...familiar.”

  I leave it at that, not wanting to explain my one-night stand. Morris may be my work partner, but we’re not friends. At least not yet.

  He looks at me for a minute, and he must decide I’m being honest because his head dips down. Turning his attention back to the road, he tells me.

  “Madalyn—that’s her name—she’s married to Jaxson Blackwood, who co-owns the bar with her older brother, Holden.” He pauses for a minute, and it seems like he’s gathering himself. When he speaks again, I understand why. “She’s got a tragic fuckin’ past, starting from when she was a teenager. Her case...shit...worst thing we’ve ever seen in this town…”

  I listen intently as he tells me what I’m guessing is the shortened version of her story.

  But it’s enough.

  By the time he finishes, I feel a little sick, a lot angry, and absolutely in awe.

  Madalyn is one brave, beautiful survivor.

  “My partner at the time couldn’t handle it after the shit we dealt with on that case. Not sure what it was exactly, but she quit before the ink on the paperwork was dry.”

  “Damn.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “Pretty much sums it up. I hate what the girl went through, but I’m happy as hell to see her doing so well now.”

  “After all that, she deserves it. That’s for damn sure.”

  He nods, but neither of us speak again. I imagine he’s lost in thought about the particulars of Madalyn’s case. It happens to all of us from time to time. Remembering how cruel and unforgiving the world can be. Reliving the shit we’ve seen, and the people we couldn’t save. At least her story seems to have a happy ending. Too many don’t.

  I watch the scenery pass us by as we get closer to our destination, thankful the call we’re about to handle isn’t anything too serious. I can’t seem to focus on the job, which is dangerous in my line of work. Even knowing that, I can’t stop my mind from straying to the other details I learned from his story.

  Madalyn is one of three.

  Identical triplets.

  One of her sisters is my mystery girl.

  My Gorgeous girl.

  Now I only have to figure out which one it is, and where I can find her.

  NINE

  Camille

  My phone vibrates in the pocket of my smock and a shiver runs through me. I can’t ignore it anymore. This is at least the tenth call in a row, not to mention the steady stream of text messages that I’ve also ignored.

  Something is wrong.

  Politely excusing myself from the client in my chair, I walk to the back hallway. As soon as I’m out of sight, I pull out my phone and suck in a harsh breath when I see the missed calls and text messages. Swiping my finger over the screen, I ignore the texts, immediately dialing my voicemail.

  Tears spring to my eyes when I hear my brother’s ragged, worried voice through the speaker.

  “Ginger!” I shout, turning back toward the door I just passed through. “Ginger! My...Madalyn…”

  She’s beside me in the blink of an eye.

  “Breathe, sweetheart. What’s wrong with Madalyn?”

  Taking a deep breath, I calm myself and try again. “She’s in the hospital.”

  Without needing anymore details, Ginger gently guides me to the break room. She makes me sit for a minute while she gathers my things.

  “Are you okay to drive? Or should I call someone to give you a ride?”

  I’m a little shaky, overwhelmed with fear for my sister, but waiting for a ride will take too long.

  “I’m okay. I can drive.”

  She looks over me momentarily before handing me my purse.

  “Go.”

  I don’t question her. For the first time, I don’t care if there’s a client sitting in my chair. Nothing matters more than getting to my sister. Madalyn’s not due for another three months, and she’s suffered enough, lost too much already. If anything happens to this baby, I’m not sure Mads would survive.

  I don’t remember walking from the salon to my car.

  My body is on autopilot.

  My mind runs through every imaginable scenario, all the things that could go wrong. I’m worried, terrified for my sister and the current situation she’s facing. I want to be positive and optimistic, but life has already shown us how utterly cruel it can be.

  I’m over halfway to the hospital when I snap out of my fog.

  I hear the sirens first.

  A quick glance in my rearview mirror reveals the flashing red and blue lights.

  My eyes move to my dash. Sure enough, I’m doing fifteen over the speed limit.

  Shit.

  Frustrated at myself and the situation, I pull over to the side of the road, putting my car into park.

  I don’t have time for this shit.

  I need to get to my sister.

  I wait—rather impatiently—for the officer to come to my window. I’m hoping if I explain the situation, he’ll at least let me go with only a warning. Honestly though, he can give me a ticket. I really don’t care, as long as he does it quickly.

  Judging by the fact that he still hasn’t gotten out of his car, he’s obviously not in a big of a hurry as I am. I watch through my side mirror, waiting to see his door open so we can get this over with. Fidgeting, I bounce my leg. My frustration and impatience grow with every second.

  Finally, the door of the police car opens, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  My eyes don’t leave the police officer as he gets out of his car. Something about him seems familiar, which isn’t unusual since I know most of the cops in this town. But that’s not it. This is something different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

  My attention moves to the clock on my dash as I try to figure out how long it’s been since I left the salon. It’s not possible, since I don’t know what time I did leave, but it doesn’t stop me from trying. I’m doing impossible math in my head when the officer taps on my window.

  I roll the window down, but before I can turn my head, my eyes widen and my breath catches.

  “License and registration, please.”

  His voice.

  I know that voice.

  That fucking voice.

  As if I could ever forget it. The rough, ragged way it sounded while he whispered dirty words.

  My body trembles—not from fear, but arousal—as I slowly turn my head to confirm what I already know.

  Our eyes meet and we bo
th freeze.

  It’s him.

  My sexy stranger.

  Reckless.

  Or maybe I should say…

  Officer Baby Daddy.

  TEN

  Ryan

  It’s her.

  “Gorgeous.”

  It’s not what I should have said, but my surprise has me at a loss for words. At least it wasn’t the most unprofessional thing that could have left my lips. I’m more than a little unprepared. This is not how I thought I would find my mystery girl, but damn am I glad I finally found her. I know without a doubt this time. Her reaction to me leaves absolutely no question about it.

  “Reckless.” Her voice is raspy, reminding me of the way she sounded in the throes of passion. Her sexy goddamn voice has my dick half hard in an instant.

  It’s enough to snap me out of my shock. I take a breath and try to remain professional. I may have found the girl I’ve spent the last three months thinking about, but I still have a job to do, a town to keep safe. It doesn’t matter who she is, she was speeding and while I wear this uniform, I have to treat her like any other citizen.

  “License and registration, please.” I repeat.

  Blinking, she seems to shake herself out of the stupor that held us both and hands me her papers.

  I glance down, needing to know her name.

  Camille Seren Sterling.

  A feeling of rightness settles over me.

  Turning my attention back to her, I’m about to ask the next routine question, but before I can, my eyes trace over the details of her face.

  She’s pale. Her eyes are red and puffy.

  Immediately on alert, I push aside my reason for pulling her over.

  “Camille, are you okay?”

  She closes her eyes, her long lashes fanning across her cheeks. As she takes a deep breath, a lone tear trails down her face.

  I swear I’m lost when those bright green eyes look at me once again.

  “I know I was speeding. I’m so sorry.” She chokes back a sob and I swear, my heart breaks. “My sister...she’s pregnant...something’s wrong. I was trying to get to the hospital.”