As soon as my knees hit the tiled floor, I emptied my stomach into the toilet. A few moments later, a hand pulled my hair back, holding it. Boden rubbed his other hand up and down my back. “Is your stomach still bothering you? I thought you’d gotten over that bug.”
As my heaving eased, I flushed the toilet and moved to the sink. I rinsed my mouth out with water, and Boden ducked under the counter. “My mom stocked the bathrooms with toiletries last night.” He held out a bottle of mouthwash to me, worry creasing his brow.
“Thanks,” I croaked, then swished the minty liquid around in my mouth.
“Maybe we should have Beckett take a look at you.”
“I think I know what’s wrong.” My heart hammered against my ribs as Boden’s brows rose in question. “I’m pregnant.” The words were barely a whisper.
Boden went stock-still. “What?”
“I know this isn’t exactly something we were planning but—”
He moved in a flash, pulling me into his arms. He framed my face with his hands. “Nothing would make me happier than starting a family with you. I’m just a little annoyed that you stole my thunder.”
“Stole your thunder?”
Boden slid a box out of his pocket. “Planned on asking you to marry me today. First day in our new home. First day of our new life.” He opened the box and pulled out a diamond ring that took my breath away. “Marry me, Laiken.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “You want to make a family with me?”
“You already are my family. You and this little one in here.” He pressed a hand to my stomach. “Marry me.”
“Yes.” It was the only word I needed.
Boden slid the ring onto my finger. “I promise you today.”
“I keep thinking every today is the best, but you keep topping it.”
“And I’ll never stop trying.”
THE END
The Tattered & Torn Series continues with Ramsey and Shiloh’s story, Fractured Sky.
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Sneak Peek of Fractured Sky
Prologue
Shiloh
PAST, AGE TEN
The wind howledthrough the cracks in the shed, and I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The fabric felt like sandpaper. Nothing like the blankets at home.
I closed my eyes and imagined running my hand over the quilt on my bed. It was just the right kind of worn. My mom had made it herself. She’d asked me what colors I wanted, and I’d watched as she pieced the fabric together and then stitched the shapes with her sewing machine. She’d quilted big stars across the covering. And every time I pulled it up to my chin, I felt as if I were sleeping under a blanket made of sky.
A door banged in the distance, and my eyes flew open. My hands trembled as I pulled the blanket tighter—as if that could protect me from whatever might come.
I couldn’t tell anymore if the tremors rocking through me were from cold or fear. Probably both. My dad had always told me that fear was natural. It was what you did with it that mattered. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d thought of this scenario when he mentioned it.
I listened carefully, but I couldn’t hear much above the howling wind. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I swore I felt cracks in it.