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Fear went out the window with the touch of his tongue and the parting of my lips. His hands went up through my hair, tangling themselves in my dark waves. My legs found their way across his lap. Brock’s hands cascaded down my back, and he drew me closer while exploring my mouth, groaning in pleasure. For a few minutes, all that existed was us, tasting and touching each other. I couldn’t get enough of him. However, Brock must have had his fill. His lips left mine abruptly, leaving them swollen and lonely. His forehead rested against mine while he took in deep breaths.
“Dani,” he whispered before kissing my nose.
“Are you regretting that you kissed me?” I had to ask.
“Not at all. I was thinking we should do that more often.”
I relaxed and snuggled against him.
He wrapped me in his arms and held me.
I soaked in his sandalwood scent mixed in with the smell of hospital antimicrobial soap. It wasn’t a bad combination. And it was him.
“I have Friday off, and I was hoping to steal you away for the day,” he rushed to say, like a nervous schoolboy.
My fingers made circles on his hard chest. “Is that so?”
“I know you’re busy, but Jonah told me about a place in Pine Falls that does hayrides and secluded picnics for two.” That sounded like something Jonah would do for Ariana. “I want to take you there.”
My heart leaped before I remembered what John had said and that I had an appointment with my obstetrician that morning. Bringing it up now was sure to kill the mood. But maybe . . . maybe I could dare to hope. I skimmed my lips with my fingers. His touch still lingered there. “I’d love to go, but . . .” My words got stuck in my throat.
“But what?”
I sat up and peered into his warm, inviting eyes. I saw my Brock in them. My courage ticked up. I rested my hand on his stubbled cheek, my thumb running over his rough skin. “I talked to your dad today, and he suggested that we start telling people about the baby soon. I have an OB appointment on Friday morning, and I was wondering if you would come with me. We could go on that picnic after my appointment.” I ran my words together, trying to get them all out before I lost my nerve.
His entire body went rigid, and I felt the heat in his cheeks before I saw the red manifest. “What’s the rush? You’re not even showing yet.”
My hand dropped, as well as my heart. Hope went flying out the window. “I want to tell my grandparents. I want to plan. I want . . .” His clenched fists and pulsing jaw didn’t go unnoticed. “Well, apparently it doesn’t matter what I want.” I slid my legs off him and stood, shaking. My hands went immediately to my back, which had begun to cramp, but I refused to stretch or rub the pain away. I would not show any sign of weakness in front of him or bring attention to my baby.
I walked toward the staircase as fast as my aching body would let me, holding back a tidal wave of tears that were waiting to drown me.
“Dani, I’m trying,” Brock called out in frustration.
I stopped and grabbed the staircase railing. “What happens when you figure out you can’t accept my baby?” I waited for him to respond.
The deafening silence was loud and clear.
The floodgates opened, and I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. Each step produced a sharp pain that started in my back and shot down through my legs. As painful as that was, it had nothing on my shattered heart. Why had I dared to hope? Why had I listened to my manipulative father-in-law? Worse, my heart?
I ran into my bathroom and slammed the door before rushing over to the shower and turning on the water. I felt more emotionally naked and exposed than I ever had, and I needed the noise to cover up the racking sobs that were on the verge of being unleashed. With my clothes shed, I stepped into the hot water. I sank down onto the tile, pulled my knees up to my chest, and let the emotion pour out of me while the water drenched me. Minute after minute after minute I let the water overtake me, wishing it could wash my pain down the drain. Yet the pain only swelled. I had to face the truth—Brock would never love me or my baby.
I had to find a way out. For everyone.
When my sobs turned to shudders, I leaned against the wall, shivering. Not because it was cold but because I was frightened. Scared to leave and scared to think I would have to stay. How does a puppet cut her strings? A better question was how does a puppet stand on her own with nothing to hold her up except sheer determination? Can she hide from the master?
