I’m going to strangle Ridge…once he’s healed and when it won’t actually hurt him, but holy shit, he’s on myst nerve.

    No one should ever surprise anyone with bringing them into their ce of employment to sign survivor benefit forms.

    That’s the kind of thing someone should be warned about. Then have some time to mentally process before being tossed into the deep end.

    Someone—who is not me—should also have a serious conversation with Ridge about how not to be taken advantage of in the future.

    Honestly, he’s a very sweet man.

    But he should have demanded proof of paternity before signing any of this stuff over to me.

    The tech guy, Calder, has big ck framed sses and an easy smile as he walks us through everything. “Okay,st one. This is just for you, Ridge. It’s your life insurance?—”

    “The one outside of the survivor benefit package if I die on the job?” Ridge asks, like that thought is no big deal.

    “Yeah, we already handled that one. This is the extra coverage you picked up. We’re swapping it out from going one-hundred percent to your mom to being split fifty-fifty between her and Quincy.”

    My hands wrap around the arms of the chair to keep from popping up and yelling that Ridge quits.

    The notary guy catches my gaze and offers a polite smile, but I’m about to beat Ridge to death with my ballet t.

    What in the hell is he thinking?

    First of all, he needs to see paternity results, just so I’ll always feel confident that he knows the truth.

    Second of all, who the fuck is okay with working a job that’s so dangerous thepany gives your family a million-dor severance package—survivor benefits—whatever, if you die while on a mission?

    This is insanity.

    My eyes ache from the thought of something happening to him.

    I can’t even fathom it.

    The gunshot was bad enough, but actually losing him? It would break me. Not to mention, our daughter would never get to know what an incredible man he is.

    I cross my arms over my chest and rest them on my stomach. He and I are going to have a very serious conversation as soon as this meeting is over.hr

    “Well, I feel better knowing that’s handled,” Ridge says, guiding me out of Calder’s office.

    “Oh, do you?” I hiss, even though I gave myself a serious pep talk about not addressing this conversation until we were home. Or at the very least, no longer in Ridge’s ce of employment.

    I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

    Before I got pregnant and Ridge got shot, I had a decent amount of decorum. All of that seems to have slithered away about the time I peed myself three feet from the bathroom door when Trigg demanded he check the space for intruders before letting me at the toilet.

    I’m going to have a conversation with him about that too.

    I stop dead in my tracks, spinning out of Ridge’s hold so I can face him for this conversation. “How about you just don’t die! Is that a possibility? Because that’s the one I would like to go with.”

    Oh, shit.

    I’m losing it.

    My eyes ache, and as soon as I blink, fat tears spill from my eyes.

    “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, ncing away. “I just need you to not die, okay?”

    “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling me closer.

    I still refuse to meet his gaze.

    Yes, I am officially a crazy person, but I feel like that’s at least half his fault. He nted this tiny human in my uterus, and the hormone fluctuations are kicking my ass. Not to mention, I don’t know how to process these emotions. I’m terrified of losing him again when I just found him.

    “Mama,” Ridge says, using his hand on his injured arm to tilt my face up as he keeps me in ce with his other forearm across my lower back. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me, Quincy? You’re going to be stuck with my ass for a long time.”

    I nod, but the tears keep falling.

    Who knew I was this well hydrated?

    And herees the snot…

    I’m not sure why any of these guys even put up with metely. I’m a hot mess, and we all know it.

    “I know how much it hurts to move your shoulder,” I whisper. “Don’t injure yourself just tofort me.” I gently move his hand from my chin and bury my face in his chest, sticking to the left side to stay away from his injury. “My system is all out of whack, but you should have warned me before bringing me here.”

    “You’re right,” he concedes. “I thought if I did, you might try to back out. You’re really going to hate it when mywyeres over tomorrow with the paperwork to get you added to my ounts and the deed to the house, but once it’s done, we never have to talk about any of this again.”

    “Ridge…” I don’t even know what to say.

    His tobo, bergamot, and leather scent is everywhere, making my head fuzzy. I need more of it, but I’m just coherent enough to understand he’s injured.

    That means I can’t climb him or ask him to pick me up. My system aches to be confined by him. All I want is his strong arms wrapped around me, and my nose buried in his throat.

    A whine leaves my lips, and I freeze.

    I’m not sure what my system is asking for, but Ridge growls, like maybe he does.

    “Come on. You need somewhere to dpress.” His calloused fingers wrap around mine, and he pulls me into the open area of the office. The hallway was smaller and enclosed, and I felt safer there than here.

    The main office area is filled with a few small cubicles, a giant whiteboard in the middle of the room with chairs around it, and there are offices lining three walls.

    Ridge tugs me past all of it as he guides us somewhere.

    “Do you have an office?”

    “Hell no.” He chuckles. “I’m not here enough to need one, but we can use Keir’s. I’m barely in the office, and I still can’t count the number of times I’ve walked in on him and Briar fucking in some random ce. The elevator rule came from those two not understanding appropriate ces to have sex. Then they moved to Keir’s office, but I’ve walked in on some shit my virgin eyes should never see.”

    “Maybe you should start knocking?” I suggest with augh.

    “I finally smartened up and made a sign.” He stops at a door and flips over a piece ofminated copy paper before sticking it back in the clip.

    The new side says, Probably fucking. Enter at your own risk, in what I assume is Ridge’s messy handwriting.

    “Ridge,” I whisper, smiling.

    He has so much personality.

    I don’t know anyone else who would be so brazen as to put that on their boss’s door. Okay, I don’t actually know if Keir is his boss, but I would assume so since he’s part of Easton’s family pack.

    Wouldn’t that mean he also owns the ce? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work in a pack?

    Ridge pulls me inside the office and closes the door behind us.

    A leather sofa takes up most of the wall to the left, and he guides us over to it before taking a seat on the middle cushion. His face contorts as he stretches back, and my stomach wobbles.

    If I could take his pain away, I would.

    “I have vague memories of asking you to sit on my facest night.” Heughs, almost managing to cover for the pain I know he must be experiencing. “You need a cuddle. Climb on.”

    I’m overwhelmed, and everything in me says being as close to him as possible will help, but I’m so afraid of hurting him that I hesitate.

    “I’m not going to break,” he says, reaching for my hand.

    I scramble forward and fall into him when I have to pull my hand back to keep from resting it on his injured shoulder.

    That gunshot wound is all I’ve thought about since it happened, so I have no idea how I momentarily forgot about it.

    Before pregnancy, I would have been able to climb onto hisp without needing to hold onto something to keep myself bnced. Now that I’m a million months pregnant, that is not the case. “Oh no!”

    Ridge’s face ends up buried in my breasts, and he cups my hips, guiding me to rest on hisp. “Damn, woman. You had killer tits before I knocked you up, but I think they’re bigger now.”

    I nce down. “Yeah, a little. Sorry for assaulting you with them.”

    My chest got a smidgen bigger during the first trimester, then I saw no change until I hit close to thirty weeks. They might be close to a full cup size bigger than thest time he saw them, but I keep that to myself. I’ll let him appreciate the difference firsthand—once he’s feeling more like himself.

    “That was the highlight of my day so far.” Heughs a low and throaty sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “You sitting on myp is a close second, but tits are always going to squeak into the first-ce spot.”

    Reaching up, I pull his sses off and drop them on top of his head. Having my boobs shoved into his face couldn’t have felt great, but just like with everything else, Ridge is a good sport about it.

    His massive hand smoothes up and down my back, and I sniffle.

    What causes me to break down only with Ridge?

    I had a simr meltdown when he showed me the room he nned to set up as a nursery.

    Could it be guilt?

    It must be.

    I’ve been trying to work on not letting it eat me alive, but even if I want it to disappear, it’s reasonable to expect it to take some time.

    Then with everything elsepounding on top of that…

    I bury my face in his shoulder and breathe him in. There’s no avoiding my stomach pressing against his, but I purposely stay away from his injured arm. He doesn’t show any physical cues that indicate I’m hurting him, so I melt into the soft material of his shirt and focus on staying in the moment.

    “I feel like a broken record, but I have to say it again. I can’t lose you when I just found you,” I say barely above a whisper.

    “And you won’t.” His heart beats under my ear, and I focus on breathing in his rich pipe tobo scent. The other notes of leather and bergamot are there, but only when I focus extra hard on sniffing them out, and before I know it, my entire body buzzes.

    His pheromones affect my system like a truth serum, and I speak without even meaning to.

    “I hate that I keep freaking out on you.” My eyes clench closed as embarrassment washes through my entire body. “I yelled at you for getting shot. Who does that? I’m so remorseful over the time we lost and the things you missed out on?—”

    “All right, sweetheart. We went over this, but we can have this conversation again if you need to hear it.” He soothes his hand over my back, and a few seconds pass before a ragged purr starts in his chest. “Let’s see if that helps settle your nerves. Fear makes people react in different ways. I’d say you got angry because it was easier to process in the moment than it was to be afraid. It’s a pretty solid survival mechanism, by the way. But I’m not holding any grudges, and you can’t carry that guilt around forever.”

    All of that makes sense.

    Omegas are rarely logical, though…