When Constellations Form (Light in the Dark 4)

“Oh, Thea.” My heart breaks. I wish I had some way to get to her, and hold her, but I can’t. “I’ve tried to tell you, and you don’t want to listen to me, but you’re going to be an amazing mom. There’s no luckier kid on the planet.”

Her tears fall and she tries to hide them, but it’s pointless.

Besides, there’s nothing wrong with tears. Tears show you care, and that’s never a bad thing.

“You’re already a good mom, Thea,” I tell her and she wipes her tears away.

“How?” she asks. “All I do is complain about being pregnant, eat, throw up, cry, and complain some more.”

I laugh, because she’s right. “That’s true, but for you to say what you just did, you already care and love this child. That’s what tells me you’re going to be a good mom.”

She mulls over my words and nods. “But it’s still scary. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never changed a diaper, ever.”

“Ever?” I ask, trying to think of some time growing up when she must have. “Didn’t you babysit?”

She shakes her head. “No. My dad wouldn’t let me.”

I press my lips together, forcing back the not-so nice words I want to say.

Malcolm Montgomery tore his family apart piece by piece and he didn’t even care.

I hate that all those years that I was close with them I had no idea, because I would’ve put a stop to it. Told my parents. Something. Cade and Thea shouldn’t have had to grow up in that.

All I can say is, at least the man is gone, and things are good now. Thea and I have each other, and Cade has Rae.

“I guess it’s not too late to babysit,” I joke.

Even though I say it as a joke, it gives me an idea.

I think I finally have a solution to the problem, but I’m not saying anything to Thea yet. Over the years I’ve learned it’s better to do and not ask.

So I don’t say anything to her about my idea.

I grab her foot beneath the water and begin to massage it. Her eyes fall closed and she moans.

I work my way up her calf, getting dangerously close to her center, before m

oving my hand back down.

“I’m going to fall asleep,” she warns.

“Do it,” I tell her. “I’m not going to let you drown.”

She smiles at that, her eyes still closed.

She trusts my words, and they’re not a lie. I’d risk my life for hers, and now our child’s. Call me crazy, but that’s what love does to you.

Xander

“We’re lost,” Thea announces beside me.

“We’re not lost,” I groan.

“We’re lost,” she says again, looking out the window. “Totally, and completely lost.”

“No, we’re not,” I counter.

“Yes, we are,” she argues. “I don’t know about you, but all I see is trees, trees, and more trees!” She grows shrill at the end.