Nightfall (Devil's Night 4)

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After a splendid month of squatting in my old house with a mattress on the floor and take-out Chinese food where we were completely happy, barely leaving bed or seeing anyone but each other, we finally took over Christiane Fane’s house up on the cliffs.

She moved in with Matthew Grayson, and even though we didn’t need that much space, Will made some good points. Enemies seemed to be an occupational hazard of Graymor Cristane, and our family needed more protection than a neighborhood Victorian offered.

Not to mention, our children someday would want to be close to their friends. Kai and Banks had the Torrance house when they were in town, Damon and Winter had the old Ashby house, Michael and Rika had St. Killian’s, and we were in her old house, the company buying it and turning over the deed to Will free and clear. We were all on the same road up in the quiet, haunting sea cliffs of Thunder Bay.

I was happy, and over the months of celebrating the holidays and the snow and the first warm day of spring, I couldn’t stop smiling, the pain of the past there but no longer hard.

Micah and Rory decided to laugh in the face of danger, however, and took over my house in town, Micah absolutely loving the simple life. He and Rory’s families were more than happy with the capital their sons were now good for, and left them the hell alone.

“Baby, I need you!” Will called from downstairs.

I bit my bottom lip to stifle the smile as my hand shook.

I looked down at the third pregnancy test I’d taken this morning, the plus sign big and bold and pink.

It was no wonder I’d gotten knocked up, and I was surprised it didn’t happen sooner with as much as he was on top of me.

Wrapping it in toilet paper, I stuffed it in the garbage can and looked up, fluffing my hair in the mirror and unable to hide the huge-ass smile.

William Grayson IV.

I squealed and then clamped a hand over my mouth, not ready to let the cat out of the bag. Winter had gone into labor a couple of hours ago, and Will was trying to wrangle Ivarsen and Madden from their naps so we could get to the hospital. We’d been babysitting overnight to give the parents a break.

“Please, baby!” he shouted, sounding stressed.

I laughed to myself, hopping out of the bathroom and down the stairs, Will’s beagle, Diablo, scampering after me. I found Will in the foyer and watched him grab Ivar’s foot and pull him back so he could get his sock on.

I snorted. The twenty-month-old giggled, finding it all so funny as Madden stood nearby and watched the action.

I slung my purse over my head, grabbed the diaper bags that we’d already filled with snacks, drinks, and toys, and picked up Madden, leaving the house and loading him into the car. Will could deal with Ivar. I swore the kid knew Will owed him for lost time, and loved yanking his uncle’s chain constantly.

I buckled Madden into his car seat, giving him an attack of kisses as Will carried Ivar out, the kid kicking and squealing, full of smiles.

Fruit punch stained Will’s button-down shirt, and he looked like he was going to punch Damon when he got a hold of him, because Ivar’s sense of mischief was entirely his fault, and not Winter’s.

I climbed into the driver’s seat, picking up Will’s textbooks off the passenger seat and dumping them onto the floor behind me.

In addition to the company’s real estate ventures, breaking ground on the resort, and helping Winter with her humanitarian organization, Will had started college.

He didn’t want to go back to school or be with people younger than him, but he wanted to do something more with his life outside of what he had with the guys.

So he bit the bullet.

And I loved him for it. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a lawyer or a veterinarian or what, but I kind of saw him running a publishing company someday.

Which was going to come in handy, because I wasn’t helping William IV with his lit homework. That stuff came easily to Will.

He finished with Ivar and opened the passenger side door, sliding into his seat.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, buckling up.

I eighty-sixed the grin. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

He chuckled, and I ran my hand over his hair, soothing him. The boys had taken a lot out of us the past twenty-four hours.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned at the feel of my hands.