Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 62~

~Raelyn~

~December 24th, 2023~

Day two of our cross-country road trip started with a crying baby, a mystery stain on the hotel comforter, and Isa dry heaving into a bag of Cheez-Its. So, you know. Really wholesome *Little House on the Prairie* vibes.

But on the bright side, it was Christmas Eve. We were halfway to Kansas, halfway to going completely feral, and at least three caffeinated beverages deep before 9 a.m.

Colby was behind the wheel — laser-focused, jaw tight, one hand on the steering wheel and the other firmly gripping my thigh like it had wronged him personally.

I rode shotgun, wrapped in a cozy blanket with Mr. Quakers, my emotional support duck plush that had seen far too much. Aspen was in the back in her car seat with her blanket and paci. She was miraculously quiet — probably plotting something.

Blake sat in the middle seat beside her, clutching his stormtrooper doll like it might get drafted into battle at any second. Every five seconds, like clockwork, he leaned over to check on Aspen.

"She's still breathing, right?" he whispered.

"She's good, baby," I said softly, glancing back at them.

"She's not... like, overheating or anything? Or too cold?"

"She's in a temperature-controlled car in three layers and wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. She's thriving."

"...Okay. Just checking."

Next to him, Isa sat with her head leaned against the window, humming along to something soft and upbeat. She was dressed in thick black leggings and a sweet, off-the-shoulder pale pink sweater, her hair twisted up in a claw clip like she belonged in a Pinterest board titled *soft winter vibes*.

I'd gone with leather pants and an oversized beige off-the-shoulder sweater, equal parts cozy and "I might stab someone with style." Colby — in his classic uniform — wore a red-and-black flannel over a fitted black tee, paired with black jeans and boots. He looked like a man who chopped wood for fun, which, unfortunately, did things to me.

Blake had on a red Christmas shirt with little cartoon reindeer and snowflakes on it, paired with denim jeans and light-up sneakers he swore made him run faster. They didn't.

Aspen, of course, was a fashion icon. Isa had dressed her like she was attending a baby runway event. She wore a soft green long-sleeved onesie with little beige pants covered in tiny green trees, a matching beige headband tied in a dainty bow, and the world's tiniest beige shoes that made my heart do backflips.

It was also a *huge* risk.

"We are moments away from a code green," I muttered.

"She looks adorable," Isa replied without even looking up.

"I just don't understand why we always put the baby in light-colored clothing before a six-hour road trip. It feels like we're tempting fate."

"She's setting trends. Beige is the moment."

Blake leaned over again, peering at Aspen. "Her shoe's crooked."

"She's fine, B."

"But—"

"She's. Fine."

He sat back, clutching his stormtrooper tighter.

"She looks like a fancy little elf," he whispered proudly.

She really did.

"I still can't believe we're doing this," I muttered, shifting my position. "Driving halfway across the country with a newborn. We are absolute lunatics."