Becoming Beauregard - (Beauregard Family Book 5)

Briala

I wake to darkness, but it isn’t quiet. The sounds are muffled and distant like they’re coming from underwater—a thud, then footsteps, heavy and purposeful. My heart races, pounding against my ribcage like it’s trying to escape.

I’m back in the park.

Cleo’s voice echoes faintly in my mind, laughing at something Sunnie said. We were talking about centerpieces—flowers or candles. Just a simple moment, three women walking together, planning the future.

Then the footsteps started.

I glance over my shoulder, just like I did that day. My stomach tightens as the shadowed figures close in. There’s no time to think, no time to run. They’re on us before we can react.

Sunnie is grabbed first, her scream sharp and jarring, but they think she’s Mari. It buys Cleo and me a split second to react, but it’s not enough. I scream for Cleo to stay back, to get down, but the words feel caught in my throat. Hands grab me from behind, rough and unyielding.

“Don’t fight,” a voice snarls, low and threatening. I don’t see the gun, but I remember the cold metal pressed to my side. “Do what we say, and no one gets hurt.”

My heart shatters, but it’s not for me. It’s for the baby.

I thrash, but I can’t break free. The van door slams shut, and the world becomes dark and cold. My wrists burn against the ropes, my stomach flipping with terror. I think of Grayson, of the baby, and I scream into the emptiness—

—and I bolt upright in bed, gasping for air.

The room is still, the only sound is my ragged breathing. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. Then my hand instinctively flies to my belly, feeling for any movement, anything to tell me the baby is okay.

There it is. A little flutter, soft and reassuring.

I let out a shaky breath, wiping my damp forehead. The nightmare is over, but the fear still lingers, clawing at the edges of my mind.

Three months since that day, and it hasn’t gone away.

I glance over at Grayson, who’s still asleep beside me. His face is soft in the faint glow of the outside lights, his arm draped protectively over the blanket. He doesn’t know I’m awake, and I don’t want to wake him. He’s carried so much already.

I slip out of bed carefully, my feet hitting the cool floor. My body feels heavy, not just from the pregnancy but from the weight of everything that’s happened. The city outside is still alive, humming with quiet energy, but it feels distant, like it’s holding its breath.

Three months, and the storm hasn’t settled.

Governor Abate’s arrest is still national news, and the trials are barely starting. Every day, there’s something new in the headlines—more names, more corruption, more fallout. And then there’s us, the Beauregards, caught in the middle of it all.

I press my hand to my back, wincing at the ache that seems to have taken up permanent residence there. The pregnancy has been harder than I expected. Every step feels heavier, every movement slower.

But I’m here. The baby’s okay. That’s all that matters.

I shuffle toward the window, looking out over the city. The view hasn’t changed, but everything else has. We survived. Cleo, Sunnie, Adrian—we all made it out. But at what cost?

“Bri?”

Grayson’s voice is soft and groggy, but it snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn to see him sitting up, his hair mussed, his blue eyes bleary with sleep.

“Hey,” I whisper, trying to smile. “Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t listen. Of course, he doesn’t. He never does when it comes to his concern for me.

Instead, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face before standing and crossing the room to me. His hands find my waist, warm and steady.

“You had the dream again,” he says quietly. It’s not a question.

I nod, leaning into him as his arms wrap around me. His chin rests against the top of my head, and for a moment, I let myself sink into his warmth.

“It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about it,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “How close we were. How close I came to losing—”

“You didn’t lose anything,” he cuts in, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re here. The baby’s here. That’s all that matters.”

I tilt my head back to look at him, my eyes searching his face. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Carry all of this without breaking?”

His expression softens, and he cups my face with one hand, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I don’t carry it alone. I have you. I have the baby. I have my family. That’s how.”

His words settle something inside me, easing the tension I didn’t realize I was holding. I press my hand to my belly again, feeling the baby move.

“We’re okay,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “You’re okay. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

The ache in my back flares again, and I wince despite myself. Grayson notices immediately, his brow furrowing.

“You’re hurting.”

“It’s just my back,” I say quickly, not wanting him to worry. “It’s been bothering me more lately.”

Grayson doesn’t say anything at first, just moves closer, his hands finding the small of my back like they’ve done a hundred times before. He starts to massage the ache with slow, deliberate circles, and I feel some of the tension ease immediately.

“You’re very pregnant now, Bri,” he says softly, his lips brushing against my temple as he speaks. “You have to take it easy on yourself.”

I let out a deep breath, leaning into his touch. His hands work magic, and for a moment, the heaviness in my chest starts to lift. But then the other weight—the one that’s been sitting there since I woke up—pushes its way forward.

“My mom is coming home today,” I say, the words spilling out before I can second-guess myself.

Grayson’s hands pause for just a second before he starts again, slower this time. “I know,” he says, his voice gentle. “I remember.”

He steps around me, crouching slightly so he can meet my eyes. His expression is calm, steady, the way it always is when I’m teetering on the edge. “How are you feeling about it?”

I hesitate, chewing on my bottom lip. It’s not like I haven’t thought about this moment a thousand times in the past few weeks, but now that it’s here, the words don’t come easily.

“I’m nervous,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Why?”

I glance down at my belly, resting a hand over the baby. “Because the last time I saw her, none of this had happened. The engagement party feels like a lifetime ago, and back then, we weren’t even telling anyone about the baby yet. She doesn’t know about the pregnancy, the kidnapping, the media circus… any of it.”

Grayson straightens up, his hands moving to my shoulders now. “She’s your mom,” he says firmly. “She’s going to have your back. You know that.”

I nod, but the knot in my stomach doesn’t ease. “I didn’t want to tell her over email while she was on the mission trip. I wanted to wait until she came back. I thought I had more time. But now everyone knows. She’s going to see the cameras and the headlines before she even gets a chance to see me.”

His thumb brushes my collarbone, a small, grounding gesture. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, his tone steady. “The cameras will be there, yeah. But when she sees you, when she sees the baby bump, she’s going to be thrilled. And you know I’ll be right there with you.”

I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his chest. “I’m just… tired. Of all of it. The attention, the questions, the comments about how I look, what I wear, what I’m eating. And now, throwing my mom into that mess?”

Grayson tilts my chin up gently, forcing me to look at him. “You’re not alone in this,” he reminds me. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

His confidence feels like a lifeline, something solid to hold onto in the chaos. I nod again, feeling some of the weight start to shift.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay,” he echoes, smiling softly. “Now, let’s get you back to bed for a bit. You’ve got a big day ahead.”

I let him guide me back to bed, the warmth of his hand in mine anchoring me. As I settle under the covers, his fingers brush against my cheek, a silent reassurance.

Whatever’s waiting for us at the airport, I know I won’t face it alone.

Grayson’s arms tighten around me, his warmth a constant presence against my back. His hand rests over my belly, his fingers splayed gently as if shielding the baby from the world. He murmurs something soft and sweet, barely audible, and presses a kiss to my shoulder.

“Try to get some rest,” he says, his voice laced with concern.

I nod against his chest, closing my eyes and willing myself to drift off. But it’s useless. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts—what Mom will say, how she’ll feel when she sees the cameras, what she’ll think about everything she’s missed.

Grayson’s hand moves in slow, soothing circles over my belly, and for a moment, it helps. But sleep refuses to come.

When the faint light of morning filters through the curtains, I give up. Carefully, I slip out of bed, making sure not to wake Grayson. He stirs slightly but doesn’t open his eyes, his arm draping across the empty space where I’d been.

I shuffle to the bathroom, yawning as I sit down for what feels like the hundredth bathroom trip since last night. Pregnancy joys, I think wryly, rubbing a hand over my swollen stomach.

As I stand and wash my hands, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is messy, my eyes a little puffy from lack of sleep, but my belly stands out front and center, a perfect curve that holds the future.

“Hey,” I whisper softly, resting both hands on my stomach. “It’s Mommy again.”

I smile faintly, shaking my head at myself. Talking to the baby has become second nature now, a habit I’ve picked up when no one else is around.

“We’re still hanging in there,” I continue. “And today, you get to meet your other Grandma.” My fingers trace gentle circles across my belly, as if the baby can feel my words.

“She’s going to be so happy to see you,” I say, my voice softening. “Once she gets past the shock, anyway.”

I let out a small laugh, though it fades quickly. My heart tightens at the thought of Mom’s reaction. She always wanted to be here for milestones like this, always promised she’d never miss something so important. But this time, the world moved faster than either of us could keep up.

I take a deep breath, letting my hands linger on my belly a moment longer. “It’s all going to be okay,” I whisper, more to myself than to the baby.

The sound of movement in the bedroom pulls me from my thoughts. Grayson must be waking up. I glance back at the mirror one more time, smoothing my hair and straightening my pajama top before heading out to face the day ahead.