WILLOW

Tex was a man who liked routine. Unlike the swamp, where there was always a new adventure, nothing in the camp ever changed. The men talked about war, planning and planning without ever saying when. They counted bullets and cleaned unused guns. They went on hunting excursions, always returning empty handed, and the supply runs, so far, hadn't benefited anyone.

Croc provided. From sunrise to sunset, he caught fish, he cleaned fish, he cooked fish, he stared at his keychain. I'd never seen him so distracted. Well, I had, but up until then, the distraction had always been me. From the moment I stepped into the swamp, it had been me he stared at like that. Lately, he barely looked my way.

I might have been more upset if I wasn't so exhausted. Between the kids and the garden, I never sat still, and I must have eaten something foul, because my stomach rebelled anytime I even thought about food.

But everything changed when the girl arrived.

Fern was the camp's new obsession. She may have been thin and weak physically, but her mind was sharp. Considering I had nothing more than a few words to go off of, it was likely my imagination filling in blanks, but I sensed it. Even Tex had said so. Daily. Religiously. She's different. She was going to help us. She knows this and this and that. He treated her like the key to winning the war, and God help anyone who said anything even remotely inappropriate.

"Willow?"

I jolted out of my thoughts, turning to find Croc watching me at a distance. "You done already?" I asked.

"For a while." He walked over, picked a wet shirt out of the basket of clothes I'd been hanging to dry, and pinned it to the line.

I'd grown so accustomed to not seeing him, for a moment, I didn't know what to say. I resumed working, and with two people, it didn't take long to finish.

Croc gently cupped my elbow and led me toward our tent. "I brought you something to eat."

"You did?" I bent through the opening then paused. "Where are the kids?" They'd been coloring. Where did they sneak off to now?

"Merle's watching them." His words caressed my ear, his body so close to my back I could feel his heat.

I turned, and we were face to face. "When? I didn't even notice—"

He kissed me, and it was as if it'd been building in the absence between us. I melted. I buckled. I nearly wept. If anyone had ever told me I would miss a man, I'd have called them insane. But, finding him, experiencing him, then having it all disappear had affected me in ways I hadn't thought possible.

Croc pulled back with a low rumble. "Eat something, then let's go for a swim."

"I'm not hungry," I breathed, seeking his mouth again.

He groaned and kissed me harder, setting my blood on fire. It had been so long since we'd been this way. Too long since that night in the swamp, when the world was a memory, and the only thing to do was fall in love.

He backed me into the tent, his palm sliding under my shirt, up my spine, across my shoulder blade, down my waist, as if he wanted to touch all of me at once.

But when he lowered me to the mattress—where a plate of fish sat steaming—everything shifted. The smell hit me like a truck, and all the contents of my stomach lifted into my throat. I shoved him away and scrambled for the exit, barely making it out before I retched into the dirt.

Not a second layer, Croc gathered my hair back, then gently gripped my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't respond. My body hated me. That was the only way to explain how I kept heaving long after it was empty. I was so sick of being sick, and I wished I knew what was causing—

I froze, my eyes widening, staring at the ground as if it might open up and swallow me. No. No, no, no, no, no. I straightened and pushed back my hair, thinking up reasons why I was wrong. Why it couldn't be. That I was overreacting. It was just the fish. It was just the work. It was just—

When was the last time I—I couldn't remember. I hadn't kept track, but now that I thought about it, it had been too long.

Danny had been gone, along with his bag, and any pills that may have ensured I didn't. . .

"Willow." Croc gripped my arms, forcing me to look at him. "Tell me what's wrong."

His expression was stoney, but his eyes were fierce. He wanted an answer. He wanted me to tell him I was okay. He needed to know I wasn't dying. But the truth was so much more terrifying.

"I think. . ."

"You think what? Should I get Julia?"

"No!" Julia would declare it definite and start planning the damn shower. "I'm not sure."

His brow furrowed, and he studied me. "Not sure about what?"

"Croc. . ." I couldn't tell him. I shouldn't tell him. It was too soon. He would be too happy. But I had to say something, and he would know if I lied. "I think—I think I might be. . .pregnant."

***

CROC

My eyes shot to her stomach, and for a full minute, I was frozen in place. A baby. My baby. Our baby. I studied every inch of her. She was pale. Was she always that pale? How long had she been pale? "Here." I supported her weight and led her back inside the tent, pausing just long enough to snatch the fish and toss it out the door. "Lay down. You should rest. You need to rest."

"Croc, I'm fine." But despite her words, she crawled into bed. "It isn't definite, so don't get your hopes up, and don't tell anyone."

I nodded, but my thoughts were elsewhere. It was cold today. Blanket. She needed a blanket. "I'll be right back."

"Croc—"

I left her there, racing to get her what she needed, realizing I had no idea what that was. A baby. My baby. Our baby. Panic and joy fought to claim territory over my heart. It was what I'd always wanted, and I'd been so busy thinking about the past, I'd neglected to take care of her. Well, not anymore.

I skidded to a stop in the center of camp, where the bulk of the men were seated at the many tables or standing idly beside them. I looked around. "Somebody give me a blanket!"

They startled like a hive of bees just knocked from a branch. Merle shot out of his chair. "What the hell happened?"

"Willow is cold!"

Silence fell, and the men stared at me. They kept staring at me, then each other, then me again.

"Talk about whipped," Cecil rumbled.

Laughter roared.

"How is that funny?" I asked. "I need a blanket!"

"It's an emergency!" one of the men cried out.

They laughed harder.

"Somebody help!" another shrieked.

My hands fisted, muscled tensed. I imagined her shivering, wondering where I was. Would she think I'd left because I wasn't happy? This was taking too long.

"If he needs help keeping her warm, I'll—" Reggie started.

"Now!" The word erupted, booming with a force that sent the birds flying from the trees.

Everyone stopped. They stared.

"Jesus," Cecil breathed. "Don't get your panties in a twist. Here." He reached into a nearby tent and retrieved one, tossing it to me. "Thank God I never married."

"You can thank that ugly mug for that," Merle said.

I ignored them and started to run back, but stopped again by the supply shed. She needed food, and the baby didn't like fish.

My brow pinched. The baby didn't like fish? Fish was the one thing I could always get. How would I feed them if—

I shook my head. It didn't matter. I'd provide. I draped the blanket over my shoulder then filled my arms with whatever I could carry.

When I returned, Willow's gaze roamed over my bounty warily. "Why do you have all that?"

I dropped the food onto the other bed, then covered her with the blanket. "What do you think he'll like," I said. I lifted a can. "These? I brought more."

"You brought me canned salmon?"

I looked at the can. It had a fish on it. Why put a fish in a can? I tossed it down and grabbed another. "What about green beans?"

Willow sighed. "I'm not hungry," she said. "I told you, I'm fine. You're getting worked up too soon. I'm not even sure that's what this is."

"But you think it is," I said, unwilling to relinquish hope. "You think you are."

"It's a possibility," she admitted softly. "Not a guarantee. I don't want you to get too excited."

Too excited? How did she expect me to feel? This was. . .this was everything. A family. Our family. "What else could it be?" I asked.

She was quiet, and I could smell her unease. She really thought she was, and she wasn't happy. I frowned, sobering. Never, ever, ever, ever. That's what she'd said. Something cold settled in my chest. "You don't want him?"

"Stop referring to it as a he. For all we know, you're pampering a stomach virus."

I kneeled beside the bed and leaned over her, forcing her gaze to mine. "But if you are. . .Will you want him?" Thoughts of my own mother drifted through my mind. Had she looked like this when she realized I was coming? Had that been the reason she left? "You'd love him, right?"

Willow blinked, then her eyes went wide, and she took my hand and squeezed. "Of course I would love him—or her." Her voice quieted, softened. "I'd love them too much, and I can't protect them, Croc. That's the problem. It's cruel to bring a baby into a world like ours."

My chest eased, and I pushed the hair away from her face. "Let me worry about that," I whispered. "Whatever you need, wherever we need to go, I'll take care of it. I promise."