At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(123)

And just like that, the kitchen feels warmer. Less like a morning visit. More like something solid. Something that’s going to stick.





Whit


Colt took Jonas to some 4-H event today, giving Blair and me an afternoon to spend watching Pride & Prejudice in our pajamas. When she lived in Vancouver, we talked on the phone almost every day. But since she’s been home, it’s somehow harder to make time for catching up. Or maybe we’ve been taking the close proximity for granted.

I pluck yet another dog hair from my throw blanket, silently cursing Betty for how much she sheds. Last week I bought her the plushest dog bed I could find, yet she still insists on stealing this blanket to create a nest on the floor any chance she gets.

Blair crunches on a tortilla chip. Something about her seems off today, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. I assumed after two full weeks of endless sex and drinking margaritas in the sun, she’d be positively radiant.

“So, tell me how your honeymoon went,” I prompt her.

Her muscles relax a little, shoulders sinking a full inch. “Oh, it was so good. I could’ve spent a full month on the beach, but it was a bit of a stretch to sneak away for two weeks.”

Despite Blair’s insistence that they couldn’t possibly accept a paid vacation to Mexico as a wedding gift—citing the need to help care for our mom and work at the clinic, and Denny needing to be at the ranch—my parents and Denny pushed back harder.

“Maybe next year you can go again. Make it an annual anniversary trip.”

Her nose scrunches. “Yeah, I don’t know if that’ll be possible.”

This is where my sister and I are fundamentally different. If somebody presents me with an opportunity to clock out of work and read smut next to a pool? Say less.

The room falls silent again, save for the television’s endless loop of trailers for movies they think I’ll enjoy.

“And how’s married life?” Does Denny have to work this hard to get her talking?

“Oh, good. Really good.” The corner of her lip pulls up. “Better than I could’ve imagined, honestly. Denver’s…he’s so good to me.”

“I’m happy for you.” My tone is genuine. “You deserve to have someone love you like that.”

Adjusting her positioning on the couch and plucking at the front of her shirt, she nods. “You do, too.”

For the first time in my life, not only do I agree with her about the sentiment, it feels like I’ve found it. Though only a month has passed since Blair and Denny’s wedding night, I can confidently say I’ve never felt this way about someone.

“Colt’s been the best thing to happen to me…and to Jonas. I wish I’d met him years sooner. He treats Jonas like his own son, which makes me incredibly happy…but also, kind of sad, ya know? Like why couldn’t Alex put in half as much effort?”

“Have you talked to Alex recently?”

“Unfortunately.” I roll my eyes. “I mean…he’s putting in more effort than ever before. I’d probably be pretty damn impressed if it weren’t for Colt doing so much more for a kid who isn’t biologically his. But, yeah, Alex has been picking Jonas up from therapy every Thursday.”

She half-laughs. “You’re right. Six months ago you’d be sucking that man’s dick just because he drove his kid home from therapy once a week.”

Ew. She’s right and I fucking hate that.

I make a gagging face. “Please don’t remind me of how low my standards were.”

“But now you have Colt, so it wasn’t all for nothing. If Alex was involved, then Jonas wouldn’t have gone to the ranch, and you might never have met.” She fidgets with her shirt again. “Maybe some things happen for a reason.”

Something about being in love has melted my sister’s logic-based brain.

“I imagine we still would’ve met…we were both going to be at your wedding regardless.”

“Okay, valid. But you probably wouldn’t have even talked.”

She’s not wrong. Upon first glance, I was convinced he wasn’t my type, and it wasn’t until he wormed his way into my life that I realized how incredible he is. So I nod in agreement, reaching for the bowl of chips to find she’s devoured almost the entire thing.

“Speaking of everything happening for a reason, I have something I want to talk to you about. And I don’t really know how…”

“You don’t know how? Just say it. I’m your sister so whatever—”

“I’m pregnant.” She winces like she’s expecting me to hit her or scream or react in some negative way.

Tears well in my eyes, but they aren’t out of anger. Sure, a tinge of momentary jealousy floods my nervous system, but it’s quickly replaced with so much fucking love, my bones ache. “Blair, oh my God. You are? Since when?”

“I only took the test yesterday, so I’m like…barely pregnant. I haven’t even told Cass yet. I wanted—needed—to talk to you first.”

“Are we excited about this?” I search her face for a hint about how to react.

“So excited.” She pats her fingertips at the wetness pooling under her eyes. “So fucking excited, Whit.”