TWENTY-EIGHT
“Hey. Hey.” Poppy heard the voice, though it took her a second to process. “Don’t shake her like that.” Turner, she recognized that voice. And yes, someone’s hand was on her shoulder. “Go pack your s**t, Shrimp.”
“Geez, why are you in such a bad mood?” Charley hissed.
“Just go,” Turner whispered. Poppy opened her eyes, but it took a second to focus. “Tired, Candy-Cane?”
There was something heavy on top of her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the owner of that voice. He was standing next to the bed, admiring her through the darkness.
“What time is it?” she asked, her hand sinking into Ashlee’s hair.
Ashlee. The little one was on top of her. Noah was squished against her side and Emmie was asleep beyond him.
“It’s after ten, it’s late.”
“Everything okay?” she asked, raising her
