She’d never said those words before with such simple purity. Always before, she had felt cramped, incomplete, and anxious, like her happiness existed on the edge of a precipice and she could lose it any moment.

Now, for the first time, she expanded. As she did, she felt her Power grow. It lay curled on itself like a dreaming beast, as if it allowed her this respite to heal and find her footing before it woke to demand the rest of her life.

But she had to meet with Josiah first.

What was she going to say to him? What if the test had come back with false results? Was that possible? Most pregnancy kits came with two applications, so she tested herself again. This time, as she stared at the + sign, she knew it was accurate. She could feel the knowledge rising up from her Power.

I’m not going to tell him, she thought with complete and passionate certainty as she threw the test stick away. He didn’t ask for this either—and he certainly wouldn’t welcome the news if I shared it.

Forty-five minutes later, she did a one-eighty with as much certainty and passion as the first decision. He deserved to know the truth whether he welcomed it or not. He had the right to know he was about to become a father again.

Five hours later, she knew she couldn’t tell him. He lived a hard, dangerous life, and he made hard, dangerous decisions. Giving him the news could split his attention and lead him to make a fatal mistake.

Flip: It wasn’t her place to look out for him. He wouldn’t welcome that, and she didn’t want to do it. She would tell him. She was sure she would.

By the time Friday came and he texted her with his plans, her reawakened body remembered how much she wanted him, and her mind blew every which way like a weather vane in the middle of a hurricane.

She had no idea what she was going to do. The only thing she knew for certain was that Josiah would be flying in to NOLA that evening.

And over the weekend she was either going to serve him up a hefty dose of the truth or feed him a terrible lie.

*     *     *

Josiah had no fucking business flying to NOLA.

He could overnight a cashier’s check to wherever she was staying—or several cashier’s checks, as it were, each one under ten thousand dollars to avoid triggering whatever bank she used into sending a report to the IRS.

Worse, he had no intention of telling his coven. He and Richard butted heads too much already, and he didn’t want to deal with any of the objections he knew they would hammer him with.