“Do what?” she asked, just as he swept her up into his arms. Of course, she squealed and looped her arms around his neck.
“This,” he said as he opened the door with a free hand and carried her across the threshold.
Just as she was reaching up to give him a welcome-home kiss, the whole house erupted.
In cheers.
Putting her down on her feet, Shannon stared at the crowd of all their friends and family in the living room. “What . . .”
“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Lange!” Traci said as she ran up to her, Kimber right by her side.
Shannon hugged her sisters tight, then reached out and pulled Jennifer into their group hug. “This is the best,” she said. “I love y’all so much.”
Kimber laughed. “Your accent’s back. You must be pleased.”
She was. Looking up at her husband, she shook her head. “I can’t believe you planned this.”
He looked delighted. “I wanted something special to begin our new life together.” He winked. “I told you the house wasn’t going to be like you expected.”
Just as someone put on music, champagne corks were popped, and all their friends started talking quickly and giving them hugs, Shannon looked at her sisters, her husband, all their friends. Everything.
And something settled deep in her chest that was so sure that the rest of her finally felt complete. She had sisters. She had a wealth of people she loved and cared about. She had Dylan.
Finally, at last, she was home.
The End
An Excerpt from
Take the Lead
“If you’ve got nothing to dance about,
find a reason to sing.”
—Melody Carstairs
CHAPTER 1
“Let us read and let us waltz—two amusements that will never do any harm to the world.”
—Voltaire
“I need some help, here!” Officer Traci Lucky announced as she wrapped her arm around Gwen—a skinny woman in her late twenties who looked closer to forty. She had big blue eyes, long black hair, pale skin, and a sizable baby bump.
Traci had found her curled in a ball on the floor in one of the back rooms of a house that she and her partner had just raided on suspicion of being a meth lab. That tip turned out to be wrong, but they’d found enough drug paraphernalia for Dylan to call in reinforcements.
Just as Traci got on the phone to call for an ambulance, Gwen had gotten to her feet and started freaking out. She seemed even hopped up, and Gwen managed to convey that she didn’t want to touch the expense of an ambulance. After a couple of minutes arguing, they compromised. Gwen agreed to go to the hospital if Traci agreed to escort her.
That was how Traci now found herself walking into Bridgeport Hospital’s emergency room with one of her hands wrapped around Gwen’s upper arm so she wouldn’t collapse or run off. The poor woman really did need some help.
Unfortunately, Traci’s call for assistance was being ignored. That was something of note.
Bridgeport’s usually sleepy emergency room was currently a hotbed of action. Twenty people were in the waiting area—nurses, attendants, and support staff were running around like they were in the middle of downtown Cincinnati. Emerson, another officer from Bridgeport was standing off to the side talking on his phone.
After waiting two seconds, Gwen pulled on her arm. “Can I go now?”
“No. You’re getting seen.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Can I at least sit down?”
“Are you ready to listen to me and sit where I tell you?”
Gwen’s already disgruntled expression darkened. “I told you I don’t need to be here.”
“And I told you that you need to get checked out. Your baby needs to be seen to.” Yes, her voice was wickedly sharp and her tone brooked no argument. But this girl was beginning to get on her last nerve.
It took a second, but Traci’s words eventually settled in. “Oh,” she said. A little bit after, Gwen got that vacant look on her face that Traci knew too well. This momma-to-be was either high as a kite or coming off of something and about to crash.
Traci gritted her teeth. She loved being a cop. Loved it. Few things—the hours, the craziness, or even the paperwork—got to her anymore. But, out of everything she saw in her line of work—and in all the years in Cleveland, she’d seen a lot—pregnant mothers who also happened to be drug addicts was her kryptonite. She hated it. Hated it.
Though she knew the reason why—her mother had taken a fair share of drugs when she’d been pregnant with Traci—trying to take her personal feelings out of the equation didn’t help. All she saw were babies in need of care and women who were either incapable or couldn’t be bothered to do anything different.
Still afraid to leave Gwen in a chair, Traci approached the crowded reception desk. The receptionist, Sharon, looked up, immediately took in Traci’s uniform and Gwen’s condition, and froze.
“Yes?”
“We need some assistance. This woman needs an obstetrician.”
Sharon looked over Gwen curiously. “Is she in labor?”
“No,” said Gwen.
“What’s the emergency, then?” Sharon asked.
“I’m afraid that’s a private matter.” Putting a bit more force into her voice, Traci continued. “Look, we need to see someone as soon as possible. Where can I take her? You got an empty room back there?” Traci asked, gesturing toward the triage area.
The dark-haired woman looked skeptical. “Well . . .”
“She can’t just come in here and take a spot. We’ve been waiting for an hour,” a man standing on her right interrupted.
In another life, Traci might have agreed with him. She knew she was absolutely using her uniform to get her way. But she knew that if she didn’t push this, Gwen would disappear back into the woodwork of the town, and that baby would be born without a lick of care. And, well, if that happened? Traci didn’t know if she would be able to handle that.
“She needs to be seen stat. I have to get back to work.”
The man folded his arms over his chest. “I do, too.”
“Sharon? Where can we go?”
Looking as if she knew she was fighting a battle she couldn’t win, Sharon sighed. “Fine. Take this woman to five,” she said to an orderly. “I think it just opened up.”
“Thanks,” Traci said.