A smile ghosted over his face. “My baby cousin in his first fight…what a day.”
“I’m thirty-three, Wyatt.”
He snorted. “Yup. Took you thirty-three whole years to get here. She must mean a lot to you.”
I glanced over at Willa; she met my eyes, blinking fast before looking away. None of them knew yet what had been going on between us…we’d been quiet about it, wanting to keep it private.
Guess it wasn’t private anymore.
“She’s pregnant,” I whispered to Wyatt. “Is she gonna be okay?”
Wyatt’s eyes widened just slightly—which was enough to show that Wyatt, always unflappable, was genuinely shocked.
“Is it his?” he asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “It’s mine.”
Wyatt rolled with the punches, but even he looked surprised as he put the butterfly closure on my cheek. It stung. “Well, that’s new.”
“It is.”
“That’s why she was at the clinic today?”
“She needed to get checked out,” I said. “She thought she couldn’t have kids. Turns out she was wrong.”
Wyatt was quiet for a moment, pressing the closure into place.
“At this stage,” he said, still quiet enough that it wouldn’t carry across the kitchen, “we’re talking maybe the size of a poppy seed. It’s basically just cells right now, protected by everything her body’s got.” He glanced at Willa, then back at me. “The bruising on her arms is from gettin’ grabbed. As long as she’s not cramping or bleeding, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve seen a lot worse come out fine.” He tilted my chin again to check his work. “Y’all want to keep it?”
“She wants to.”
“And you?”
I hummed. “I’m uh…still pretty shocked, but it’s really not up to me, is it?”
“And if it was?”
I chewed on that. Finally nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I would absolutely want to keep it.”
“Didn’t even know you two were an item.”
“It’s still new.”
Wyatt finally let go of me and it gave me the liberty to look at Willa, really get a chance to make sure she was okay. She was talking to Haven now, hands wrapped around a glass of water, some of the tension gone from her shoulders.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” I said.
“She tore Shepherd Daley’s face open,” Wyatt said, smiling again—this time more out of satisfaction than because it was funny. “I know she’s tough.” He stepped back and assessed me. "You did good today."
"I lost the fight."
"You didn't lose anything." His voice was even. "They had four men and you kept her safe. That's the whole job."
I didn't say anything to that.