was different.” Addie turned back to the windows, her back straight and angry.
“How?” DJ stood, pacing slowly, rubbing his stiffened, injured legs, a habit Lane was sure he didn’t even realize he had. “This is still you trying to run the show, Ad.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.” Wyatt stood and put his hands on Addie’s shoulders. “But this time, I agree.” Wyatt glanced back at the others, and in the process, his gaze found Lane. Their eyes met. No longer able to hold back, Lane stepped into the room.
“Lane?” DJ looked up, his surprise clear on his face. “What are you doing here?” It didn’t take long for DJ to put two and two together. Lane watched realization dawn in his friend’s eyes.
Silence hung thick in the room as all the brothers and sisters looked around at each other, then at him. He wasn’t a stranger to any one of them. And he tracked the progress of realization move through the group as they figured out that he’d just joined the family—whether they liked it or not.
DJ moved first, his hulking frame more than capable of knocking the taller, much thinner, Lane flat. Except Lane had adrenaline, and his father’s influence and fighting skills, on his side.
Lane was at the end of his rope. When DJ’s muscled body slammed into his, he almost welcomed the punishment. The thought that this must be what his dad felt, filled his mind but quickly vanished as DJ’s fist made contact with his jaw. He cursed with the pain, intent on giving back equal measure.
When strong arms grabbed his and pulled him back, Lane struggled. DJ was moving away as well, and it finally registered that Wyatt had hold of DJ.
After a minute, Lane shrugged off the hold and bent to retrieve his Stetson from the floor. He found Jason standing behind him, still poised to grab him if he made a wrong move.
“Damn, DJ.” Lane rubbed his sore jaw. “What the hell?”
DJ’s answer was a growl that made Wyatt’s grip tighten. The other brothers weren’t any more thrilled to see Lane here than DJ was, but they had the advantage of level heads...something neither DJ nor Lane had even in good times.
“Cut it out,” Wyatt barked, still holding DJ’s arms tight behind his back.
“What is wrong with you?” Addie was in DJ’s face. “Fighting won’t solve anything.”
“Yeah, well, I’d feel a hell of a lot better.” DJ glared at his older sister.
“You might, but this isn’t about you. This is about Mandy.” She spun around and glared at Lane. “And you. You’ve got some serious questions to answer.”
“Not to you, I don’t.”
Addie came at him. “Are you the one responsible?” She poked his chest with her finger. “How dare you leave her alone. We almost lost her—and the baby—today.” Tears flooded her eyes. “If it hadn’t been for DJ being here for the transfusion, I don’t know—”
“They’d have found someone else to match.” Wyatt spoke over DJ’s still strained shoulders. “Tara?” He looked meaningfully over at his younger sister, jerking his head toward Addie.
“Wait? Transfusion? What are you talking about?” Lane asked. He should tell them he hadn’t left her alone. That he hadn’t even known. His pride begged him to clear things up, but worry trumped everything.
“Okay. Wait. Stop.” Tara stepped forward, putting an arm around Addie’s shoulder and guiding her away. She looked at him, her anger banked with confusion. “She didn’t tell you either, did she?”
Lane waited, not sure how to answer. The truth was safest and the silence heavy. “No.” He twisted the brim of his hat around for a long minute. “I figured it out this morning.” His voice came out soft, but the impact rippled through the room.
“You sure you’re the father?” Jason asked. It hadn’t surprised Lane, or anyone really, that Jason had become a lawyer. The stare he leveled on Lane now would have put any witness on edge.
“She hasn’t told me. But unless you’re hinting that your sister sleeps around—”
“Damn you, Lane,” DJ started anew. “I warned you years ago to stay away from my sisters.”
“Did you ever bother telling your sister to stay away from me?” Lane stepped away from the group. Instead of going back to return DJ’s punch, like he wanted, Lane walked to the door. His patience was gone. “Someone better tell me. What transfusion?”
It was no surprise Wyatt spoke up. “She hemorrhaged.” Lane knew his boss well, so while Wyatt appeared calm, he recognized the worry in his voice. “The doctor called it a postpartum hemorrhage. She lost a lot of blood. Too much.”
Lane cursed again. “Is she going to be okay?”
“We hope so. It’ll take time to recover. The doctor said a month. Or more.”
“The baby?”
This time Wyatt let himself smile. “He’s fine. They have him in the neonatal nursery as a precaution since he’s a couple weeks early.”
He. It hit Lane then. A son. He had a son. Voices rang around him, but none of the words registered. A son. His boot heels seemed loud as he walked away.
They let him go, and Lane heard Wyatt curse. “Damn it, DJ. Don’t go after him.”
“I’m not. He’s not headed toward Mandy.”
The silence was thick. “I thought he was your friend?” Tara sounded confused.
“He was. Until he touched my sister. I warned him—”
“Oh, give me a break. I think Mandy had plenty of say in the matter. You are not in charge of who we see—or sleep with.”
“Where’s he going?” Addie asked.
“Probably the nursery,” Tara said. “My guess is he’s headed to see his son.”
Her words were like rocks thrown on the surface of a peaceful pond. They rippled after Lane, pushing him closer to his destination, showing him how quickly reality could be altered.
DJ cursed, his voice like a shot in the quiet hall. “This isn’t really happening, is it?” he asked.
No one answered him. They didn’t have to. It would have been a waste of breath.
* * *
A GOOD NIGHT’S sleep gave Amanda rest, but her dreams brought back all her worry. Early. The baby was early. Too early? Amanda tried to keep her thoughts ordered, tried to focus as she awoke.
The medications and leftover exhaustion didn’t help. All she could do was run through her own mind again and again. What had she done wrong? What should she have done differently? Would the baby have long-term problems? Would he be okay? She glanced down at the IV still in her arm. Would she?
Panic
