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for a divorce, refused to even speak to her throughout the months of his incarceration. He’d not loved her enough to journey through the “worse” part of “for better or worse” with her. He’d walked away, like her foster parents had, and a baby wasn’t going to change that. She didn’t love him anyway, not anymore.

But in a very tiny whisper, she said, “God, please put his heart back together again. He needs You.”

She sank into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Beckett was grateful that Laney dozed in the truck as he drove them toward Death Valley. Jude had arranged for a Las Vegas cop to follow them out of the city until an Inyo County officer took over as they drew closer to home. He was grateful for the police protection, appreciative of Jude’s proactiveness. As the miles wound by, he kept stealing glances at her, the sound of the baby’s heartbeat pinging in his memory.

He made sure the air-conditioning vents were not blowing directly on her and turned off the radio sports channel that he was regularly tuned in to. Should he wake her and insist she sip from the water bottle in her cup holder? The doctor had said hydration was important…but wasn’t sleep important too? He smiled, recalling the whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat.

Something, he recognized, had happened to him when he’d heard that heartbeat. It was as if the small pattering had echoed through his whole being and set his own heart thunking in a whole new rhythm. What had happened, he could not exactly articulate. He’d known perfectly well there was an infant growing inside Laney, but now everything felt different. The baby, their baby, was a tiny person, a living human in perfect miniature.

He’d gone on his phone, while Laney had slept in the hospital bed, and done some research. The site he visited said that at the fourth month of gestation, the baby would have fingers and toes, even a downy coating of hair, maybe.

Surely it would, since Laney’s hair was a glorious thick crown and he had to shave regularly to avoid a five-o’clock shadow. It was only natural that their baby would have a wonderful head of… He blinked hard. What was the matter with him? Imagining what their baby’s attributes might be? Hadn’t he promised he was going to step out of this child’s life? But he’d learned that the baby could even now be sucking its thumb, deep in its watery world. His cousin Willow had sucked her thumb until she was well on to five. But that might be a problem, he realized, because it could cause the need for braces, as it had for Willow. With a mental smack, he brought himself to heel.

Stop it. You have to leave.

That thought stabbed a pain deep into his core. Could he really walk away from Laney and his baby? To reduce his contact to child-support payments and letters, an occasional visit or phone call if Laney would allow it? A thought flowed out, one that had bloomed unbidden in his mind the moment he’d heard the pulse of his baby’s heart. If Jude could capture Kenny…maybe then… But he did not allow himself to complete the thought. Danger or not, he’d broken her heart and her trust. No good, came the remembered echoes of the townspeople. Monster.

He dragged a look to Laney again. The baby would have half of his genes, wouldn’t it? What if…? If Muffin had Laney for a mother, the baby would be just fine, even if they did have a fair share of his DNA.

He remembered something his father used to say. God don’t make junk. The fragile heartbeat he’d eavesdropped upon made him agree. There was nothing about that tiny life growing in there but pure, 100 percent God-in-action. The thought startled him.

A beautiful ache spiraled through him, tumbling and slow like he imagined the baby was, floating in Laney’s belly, sucking a miniature thumb. In the silence of his heart, he thanked God. It was the first time in a very long time he’d humbled himself so completely. Thank You, he said silently, that I got to hear those precious beats. He didn’t deserve it, but he’d take it and hold it close for the remainder of his days.

Laney stirred once they rolled into the valley, straightening with a wince.

“Pain?”

“Headache,” she groaned, pressing her palms to her temples.

“I’ll call Dr. Irene and ask what you can take for it.”

“I already know what I can take for it.” Her chin went up. “A chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and three cherries.”

He stared for a moment before the laughter burst out of him. “A milkshake? That’s what you and Muffin need?”

“Yes.” She nodded solemnly. “No peanuts, though. Muffin doesn’t like them.” She kept a completely straight face except for the barest hint of mischief.

He managed the question around his wide grin. “How do you know Muffin doesn’t like peanuts?”

“We get heartburn.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sure we can meet those requirements.” He flat out marveled at her ability to think about ice cream and joke after what she’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours. Whoever said women were the weaker gender had obviously not known any very well.

She sat back with a sigh, a dreamy look on her face, perhaps contemplating her dessert.

Excitement prickled his nerves. He could hardly conceive of it. Was he being allowed to participate in soothing one of those pregnancy craving things? The thought delighted him so much, he drove quickly to an ice-cream shop before the mysterious craving might vanish and she’d change her mind.

He made sure the deputy behind them pulled up close as he explained his ice-cream mission. The cop smiled.

“That’s not too bad. When my wife was expecting our second, she made me get sauerkraut, cases of it, day and night. I can’t stand the stuff.” He declined Beckett’s offer to buy him a shake, as well. He hurried inside to complete the purchase.

The smile…that lovely radiant grin when

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