As a kid, he’d believed he was being disciplined for misbehavior. By the time he was old enough to question what was happening, he was so accustomed to being smacked around, it was no more or less than he expected.
“Not until he backhanded Deacon,” he confided.
His little brother had been about seven years old when he’d accidentally kicked over a bottle of beer on the floor by Dwayne’s recliner, spilling half its contents. Deacon’s father had responded with a string of curses and a swift backhand that knocked the child off his feet.
“You wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but you stood up for your brother,” she mused.
“Someone had to,” he pointed out. “He was just a kid.”
“And how old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Still a kid yourself,” she remarked. “What did he... How did your stepfather respond?”
“He was furious with me—that I dared to interfere.” And he’d expressed his anger with his fists and his feet, while Deacon cowered in the corner, sobbing. “But I guess one of our neighbors heard the ruckus and called the sheriff.”
Faith had arrived home at almost the same time as the lawman. Connor didn’t know if his mother would have found the strength to ask her husband to leave if Jed Traynor hadn’t been there with his badge and gun. But he was and she did, and Dwayne opted to pack up and take off rather than spend the night—or maybe several years—in lockup.
“He left that night and never came back,” Connor said.
“Is that when you decided that you wanted to wear a badge someday?” Regan asked.
“It was,” he confirmed. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I wanted to help those who couldn’t help themselves.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think it sounds cheesy. And that’s how I know you’re going to be an amazing dad.”
“Because I finally stood up to my stepfather?”
“Because you didn’t hesitate to do what was necessary to protect someone you care about,” she clarified.
“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my brother,” Connor acknowledged.
And apparently, that included lying to his wife about the reasons he’d married her.
As Regan climbed the steps toward the front door of the modest two-story on Larrea Drive that had been her home since she married the deputy, she knew that she should be accustomed to surprises by now. Over the past eight months, her life had been a seemingly endless parade of unexpected news and events.
It had all started with the plus sign in the little window on the home pregnancy test. The second—and even bigger surprise—had come in the form of not one but two heartbeats on the screen at her ultrasound appointment. The third—and perhaps the biggest shock of all—Connor Neal’s unexpected marriage proposal, followed by her equally unexpected yes.
She hadn’t known him very well when they exchanged vows, and if she hadn’t been pregnant, she never would have said yes to his proposal. Of course, if she hadn’t been pregnant, he never would have proposed. And though marriage had required a lot of adjustments from both of them, Connor had proven himself to be a devoted husband.
He’d been attentive to her wants and needs, considerate of her roller-coaster emotions and indulgent of her various pregnancy cravings. He’d attended childbirth classes, painted the babies’ room, assembled their furniture and diligently researched car seat safety. And in the eight days that she’d spent in the hospital since their babies were born, he’d barely left her side.
But when she finally stepped inside the house, after fussing over the dog, whose whole back end was wagging with excitement as if she’d finally returned from eight weeks rather than only eight days away, she found another surprise.
The living room was filled with flowers and balloons and streamers. There was even a banner that read: Welcome Home Mommy, Piper & Poppy!
She looked at him, stunned. “When did you—”
“It wasn’t my doing,” he said, as he set the babies’ car seats down inside the doorway.
Baxter immediately came to investigate, which meant sniffing the tiny humans all over, but he dutifully backed off when Connor held up a hand.
“Then who...” The rest of her question was forgotten as Regan looked past the bouquets of pink and white balloons to see a familiar figure standing there. “Ohmygod... Brie.”
Her sister smiled through watery eyes. “Surprise!”
Before Regan could say anything else, Brielle’s arms were around her, hugging her tight. She held on, overwhelmed by so many emotions she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; she only knew that she was so glad and grateful her sister was home.
“Nobody told me you were coming,” she said, when she’d managed to clear her throat enough to speak. She looked at Connor then. “Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?” And back at Brielle again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“When I spoke to you on the phone, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get any time off. But I needed to see you and your babies, so I decided that if I had to quit my job, I would.”
Regan gasped, horrified, because she knew how much her sister loved working as a kindergarten teacher at a prestigious private school in Brooklyn. “Tell me you didn’t quit your job.”
Brie laughed. “No need to worry. I’m due back in the classroom Monday morning.”
Which meant that they had less than four days together before her sister had to return to New York City. Four days was a short time, but it was more time than they’d had together in the seven years that had passed since Brielle moved away, and Regan would treasure every minute of it.
“Well, you’re here now,” she said.
“I’m here now,” her sister agreed. “And I asked the rest of the family, who have already seen the babies, to give us some one-on-one time—with your husband and Piper and Poppy, of course.” She moved closer to peek at the sleeping babies. “If they ever wake up.”
“They’ll be awake soon enough,” Connor said. “And you’ll have lots of time with them.”
“Promise?” Brie asked.
He chuckled. “Considering that neither of them has slept for more than three consecutive hours since they were born, I feel confident making that promise. But for now, I’m going to take them upstairs so that you and your sister can relax and catch up.”
Regan smiled her thanks as he exited the room with the babies, Baxter following closely on his heels, then she turned back to her sister. “When did you get in? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“I got in a few hours ago, I had a sandwich on the plane and, since you asked, I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea to go with the cookies I picked up at The Daily Grind on the way from the airport, but I can make it.”
“You stopped for cookies?”
“I made Spencer stop for cookies,” Brie explained. “Because he picked me up from the airport. And because oatmeal chocolate chip are my favorite, too.”
“Now I really want a cookie,” Regan admitted. “But I no longer have the excuse of pregnancy cravings to indulge.”
“Nursing moms need extra calories, too,” her sister pointed out.
“In that case, what kind of tea do you want with your