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So instead, he dug his fingers into her hair on both sides of her head and leaned down until their foreheads were pressed together. “You okay?”
Her hand pressed against his bare stomach, which was still damp from sweat and bellowing in and out more rapidly than normal. “I came out to ask you that question.”
“I’m good,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m good. Long as you’re good. You good?”
“Yes, I’m good. I’m having a hard time sleeping, though.”
“’Cause of me yellin’ in my sleep?” That had to be what woke her up. He can’t imagine he was quiet through all that craziness.
“No, because of the baby.”
Sig went solid. “The what?” That was the first time she acknowledged what was in her belly. Not a fucking seed, a baby. He wondered if the doctor’s visit this morning had shaken something loose in her head.
“The baby. It’s active. Here.” She grabbed his hand and pressed it to the side of her stomach where it was shifting under his fingers.
He tipped his eyes up to hers, though he couldn’t focus since their foreheads were still pinned together. “Yeah. It is.”
“Hopefully that means it’s happy now that it knows it’ll have a family to love it.”
“Red...”
She pulled away from him, dropped his hand and turned her back to him. “I’m going to get some water, use the bathroom and go back to bed. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Yeah, baby, I’m okay.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “It’s your bed, Sig.”
She was telling him something she didn’t need to. “Yeah.”
“You should be in it.”
He knew that, too. “I got the couch.” He hated the fucking couch. He’d rather be in his bed next to her.
“You should be in it,” she repeated, this time much more firmly. Once again giving him a peek at what he guessed she used to be like and, hopefully, who she would be again one day.
It wasn’t impossible. It just might take a while.
“It’ll help me sleep.”
He frowned. “You sure?”
“No. But it can’t hurt, right?”
Oh fuck yeah, it could hurt. It could end up hurting a lot. “Red...”
“Only if you want to,” she said softly.
At that moment, there was nothing he wanted more.
She headed into the kitchenette, grabbed a plastic cup off the stack he kept on the counter and filled it with tap water. While he was stuck where he was. Completely fucking stuck.
He watched her lift it and drink, then place the cup back down on the counter. Her eyes on him the whole time.
Watching him watching her.
But he still stood there frozen, his feet unable to move. Like in the nightmare.
“You need anything?”
She was asking him that? Fuck, he needed so goddamn much. Things he wanted from her she couldn’t give him and never would be able to.
“I’m good,” he lied.
She nodded, then headed back down the hall.
Still, he was stuck where he stood.
The toilet flushed, the water in the basin ran and the bathroom light clicked off.
He never heard the bedroom door close.
She left it open.
For him.
She wanted him in his own bed.
You should be in it.
Problem was, that was where she was, too.
When she called his name, his feet suddenly became unstuck and he rushed down the hall and into the dark bedroom.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. I am now.”
“Why?”
“You’re here.”
“Red,” her name got caught in his throat. “I can’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
“I trust you.”
Holy fuck. “You shouldn’t.”
“You haven’t given me a reason not to.”
“Haven’t been around me long enough.”
“Yes, I have.”
“There’s nothin’ good about me, Red. Not one fuckin’ thing. I swear it.”
“I know that’s not true,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, her words swirling around him, touching him.
“It is.”
“No,” she insisted more firmly.
“You’re not lookin’ hard enough.”
“I see you.”
His body jolted. I see you.
“Can you hold me?”
This fucking woman was killing him. Taking her knife from the nightmare and driving it into his tiny black heart. “Red... that might not be a good idea.”
“It’s okay. Just hold me. Please.”
“But—”
“It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You’re just going to hold me. That’s it.”
That may not be it.
“Red...” Her name caught at the back of his throat. “I don’t know how to be gentle.”
“Yes, you do. You just forget.”
What the fuck? Was he still stuck in his dream?
Sig closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms to them. To stem the unfamiliar sting. To tamp down the frustration of her not understanding.
He wanted to yell at her that she was crazy. That her mind was broken and still wasn’t allowing her to see things clearly.
Like the baby inside her. Like him.
She wasn’t recognizing the truth. She was ignoring it.
By her refusing to see him for who and what he really was could be dangerous.
She had only seen a very small part of him. She hadn’t had a chance to see him completely. To see the real him. To see him when he spun out of control. When he went on a rampage.
