Chapter 25 Indie crouched low beside the bay window and adjusted the zoom on her camera, the soft morning light through the sheer curtains casting a golden glow over the newborn baby. He lay on a white cushion and was wrapped in a white muslin blanket. One leg had escaped, and Indie was struggling not to stare at those chubby toes. At his chunky thigh that resembled a soft marshmallow. Then he tipped his head back and yawned. It made her chest ache. She ignored the ache, forcing herself to focus on the job. She changed the shot to his face, capturing the creases of his shut eyes. The soft O shape of his lips. Gorgeous. Baby Samuel was so gorgeous that when she looked at him, her heart both hurt and yearned. "I so love his yawns." Martha, the mother, sighed. "Well, being wrapped in a straitjacket makes him tired," her husband, Grant, said and chuckled. Indie forced a smile to her lips. "Some babies love it, others hate it." "Do you have kids?" Martha asked. Indie tensed before forcing her muscles to ease as she snapped more photos of Samuel from above. "Not yet." Yet...the word hung in the air, heavy and stagnant. She'd always believed she would. But now? Now she wasn't so sure. Yes, she'd said she might be ready to explore other options, but every time she started looking into it, her heart hurt. A physical pain at the prospect of letting go of the idea of carrying her own baby. Of never feeling those kicks or experiencing that swollen belly. This was why she preferred not to do newborn shoots anymore. There was so much baby talk, and it always brought up questions about her own family structure...if she had plans for kids. And while dancing around those painful questions, she had to sit in this newborn bubble that had nothing to do with her. "That man who walked you to the door is your husband, right?" Grant nudged his wife's shoulder. "Martha, don't be nosy." Indie shook her head. "No, it's okay. Yes, Colt's my husband. We're going somewhere right after the shoot, so he's just waiting for me." Two weeks had passed since Sylvia's attack, and Colt was still trailing her to every appointment. He escorted her to the door of each house. Followed her into the mountains when it was an outside shoot. And when he worked, she went with him to the park and edited. It probably wouldn't be so bad if she hadn't felt so nauseous and tired lately. The stress and lack of sleep was really kicking her butt. "Grant, do you want to kneel at Samuel's feet and put your hand on his waist?" Indie said softly. "And Martha, can you kneel at his head and touch his hands?" The two got into the frame, and Indie stood above them to snap some images. When she took the side-view shots, she saw the look on Martha's face. The love. The devotion. It made Indie want to cry. Crap, did she actually have tears in her eyes? She quickly blinked them away as she snapped more photos. "That's beautiful, guys." Good. That was good. She hadn't sounded as emotional as she felt at all. "Do you want to pick him up, Martha? And then, Grant, you could cuddle in nice and close." Martha lifted him, and Samuel did the newborn scrunch. Indie snapped the photo. "He's so perfect," Martha whispered. Grant got close beside her. "He really is." Indie bit the inside of her mouth in an attempt to keep her composure. She clicked a few more photos. Done. "That's it, guys." Martha looked at her. "You got everything?" "I did. They're beautiful. You have a gorgeous family." The new mother beamed. "Thank you so much." "You're welcome. I'll edit them and email through the gallery when they're done." Martha handed her son to Grant. "I cannot wait!" "I'll pack up and get back to Colt." The other woman nibbled her bottom lip for a moment. "Sorry to be nosy. You said you were married but...I heard you were divorced." "Martha," Grant hissed. "What?" Indie shouldn't be surprised. She'd probably heard Sylvia's rumors about marrying for money. Indie packed up her camera. "We were separated, but we're back together now." "Oh, that's great! I didn't think you could possibly be divorced, based on the way he looked at you." The way he'd looked at her? Martha's smile softened. "It was that dreamy, you're-all-I-see kind of devotion. I imagine it's how Grant and I have been looking at Samuel all morning." "I'll have to take more notice next time." Once everything was in the bags, she rose-then immediately swayed and had to grab onto the wall to steady herself. Martha gasped. "Indie! Are you okay?" "Um, yeah, I'm sorry. I don't know what just happened." "Here, let me get you some water." Martha ran down the hall. "Are you sure you're all right?" Grant asked, concern in his eyes. Indie nodded. "Absolutely. I probably just stood too fast. I'll wait for Martha by the front door. It was lovely to meet you." She'd just reached the door when Martha returned with a bottle of water. "Here you go." "Thank you." "Are you sure I can't get you something else? Coffee maybe?" Indie's belly rolled. "That's okay. For some reason, I've been really off coffee the last couple weeks." The kind of "off" that had her gagging at the very smell of it. Which sucked because chai spiced lattes had always been a highlight of her day, and she couldn't enjoy them lately. "That's funny, I was off coffee my entire pregnancy. Grant actually had to stop drinking it around me because just the smell would make me gag." Martha bumped her hip. "Maybe you're pregnant. Any other symptoms?" Indie's brows lowered. Nausea. Fatigue. Dizziness. Turned off certain foods. They were all pregnancy symptoms. But no. She couldn't be pregnant. They'd tried for years. Infertile. It was a label that had been stamped all over her medical files. But what if she wasn't? The question hit her so hard, for a moment, she couldn't breathe. No. She could not get her hopes up, only for them to come crashing down. She tried for a smile but was sure it came out all wrong. "I should get going. I'll have the photos back to you within the next two weeks." "Thank you, Indie. I'm so excited to see them." She stepped outside, but her pulse was still racing. She did have the symptoms. And hell, now that she thought about it, her period was late. But then, she'd never been too regular, so she hadn't put any thought into it. She slid into the car and opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say to Colt. Then a voice sounded over the car's Bluetooth. "How about next week?" Randy? "No, that's too soon," Noah said, his voice also coming through the speaker. "I don't want to risk the safety inspector doing the final walk-through too early." "It's not too early," Randy pushed. Colt leaned over to her and whispered, "Sorry, we're almost done. Ready to go to your aunt Pam's?" She nodded stiffly, even though it was the last place she wanted to go. Colt frowned. "Everything okay?" "Of course. Newborn sessions are just a bit emotionally draining." Concern flickered through his eyes before he leaned closer and kissed her forehead. When he pulled onto the road, her gaze went to the window, but she wasn't really seeing anything. She wasn't pregnant. There was no way. And wondering if she was would just end in pain and disappointment. Randy and Noah were still talking, but Colt was barely listening. Something was wrong with Indie. She said she was fine, but she was pale. The frown on her face was too deep and had been there since she'd climbed into the car. Was it just because of the newborn shoot, or was it more than that? He pulled up in front of her aunt Pam's house, half a dozen cars already there. "I need to go. Randy, I'll continue this conversation later. Noah, I'll see you when you get here." He didn't wait for their responses, just hung up, but Indie was already out of the car and walking toward the house. He cursed and rushed to catch up with her. "Hey, what's wrong?" "Nothing." Not true. Fuck, she was barely looking at him. They stopped at the front door and he grabbed her arm. "Cricket, I can tell something's not right. Tell me what. No secrets, remember?" Something akin to fear flashed in her eyes. Shit. It was bad. He stepped closer. "Is it my father? Did you see him somewhere?" No, that wasn't possible. Even though Colt had been on a work call, his eyes had been on the house and the street the entire time. "I told you," she said quietly. "This isn't the best time to talk about it. And I haven't been feeling great. Can we discuss it later?" He touched her forehead. She didn't feel hot. But she hadn't been herself these last couple weeks. Nauseous. Tired. He'd put it down to stress. "Indie-" The door opened, and Becket stood on the other side, beer in his hand. Dammit. "Sorry, I was coming out to grab something from the car." Becket frowned. "Everything okay?" Indie gave a jerky nod. "Of course." She slipped past Becket into the house. The urge to tug her back was strong. Hell, Colt had to fist his hands to forcibly stop himself. Becket looked back at him. "What's going on?" "I don't know." But he sure as hell was going to find out. He squeezed Becket's shoulder before stepping inside. Everyone was out back, drinks in hand, smiling and laughing, but his gaze went straight to Indie. She was standing with Clara and her aunt. She was smiling, but it was strained. What the hell was going on? Colt grabbed a beer from the cooler and joined Jesse and Holden. The guys were best friends and had served on the same Ghost Ops team. Now, Holden dated Clara. Holden smiled at him. "Hey. How're you doing?" "All right." He'd been better. A hell of a lot better. He looked at Jesse. "Have you found Gordon?" "Maybe. Five minutes ago, I got a call about a lead. They're checking it out right now." "What lead?" "There's an abandoned house out on Clifford Avenue. One of the neighbors has reported seeing someone there the last few days." Colt cursed. "What the hell are we still doing here?" He turned, but Jesse grabbed his arm and tugged him close. "My guys are probably already there. Let them do their job." "What if he gets away?" Almost on cue, Jesse's cell rang. He stepped away to answer the call, but Colt didn't take his eyes off him. He saw frustration flicker over Jesse's face. Then anger. Something had gone wrong. They hadn't caught him. Shit. Jesse stepped back, keeping his voice low. "Gordon had a gun. He started shooting as they approached the house." "Anyone get hurt?" Holden asked. "One of my deputies, Luke. Wade, one of the new guys, had to choose between helping Luke or chasing down Gordon. He helped Luke." Colt swallowed the acid in his throat. "Gordon got away." Jesse's gaze went back to Colt. "Yeah. I have to go. Wade's new to the department. I need to be with him for the debrief. I'll keep you updated." A part of Colt wanted to go with Jesse. Hear exactly what his deputies had to say firsthand. But then his gaze caught on Indie across the yard. She was watching him, and she was still too damn pale. She needed him. Noah joined him, a frown on his face. "Hey. I saw Jesse leaving in a rush. What's going on?" "Gordon shot a deputy." Shock widened Noah's eyes. "Shit!" Yeah, shit. Becket approached, and the guys updated him on what was going on. Everyone needed to know the details. The more eyes looking for Gordon, the better. As they spoke, Colt watched Indie. Sky approached the women with a tray of prawns from the grill. That last bit of color drained from Indie's face. Suddenly, she spun and jogged across the yard to the house. Colt went after her, crashing inside and following her all the way to the bathroom. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and vomited. He cursed as he knelt behind her, pulling her hair out of the way and rubbing gentle circles on her lower back. That was it. He needed answers. Whether those answers were from her or a doctor, he didn't care. But he needed them now. When she eased back, he helped her up and watched as she flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth in the sink. "What's going on, Cricket?" he asked softly, gripping her hips from behind. She took some deep breaths before lifting her head and looking at him in the mirror. "I don't want to say it in case I'm wrong. God, I'm scared to even think about the possibility because hope can be so dangerous." Her words sped up, each rushing into the next. "I got my hopes up every time, and every time they turned out to be wrong it hurt more and more. But I've been sick and tired and dizzy, and Martha said she hated coffee too and-" "Indie." He tightened his fingers on her hips, and she stopped. "Breathe." Her chest rose and fell. "Just tell me what's happening. Let me be in this with you." She swallowed, her gaze meeting his in the mirror, before those quiet words left her lips. "I think I might be pregnant."