Katrina pov
The distinct crunch of tires settling onto the wet gravel of the driveway signaled his return. Cove was home. He was back early, walking right into a house that had suddenly turned into a horror movie.
Panic, hot and blinding, flooded my veins until I could barely see straight. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, a wild, chaotic rhythm that made me dizzy. My hands flew down to protectively cover the slight curve of my stomach, my mind screaming with a desperate terror for the baby growing inside me. If Cove walked through that door right now, if he saw Theo standing in our foyer with his hands covered in the shadows of Max's world, everything we had built—every ounce of the safe, beautiful, romantic life we were planning for our child—would be blown to pie
