The pain I left her to bear.Alone.
“It was too late.” She swallows roughly, inhaling a ragged breath before whispering, “She was already gone.”
I clench my jaw, glancing around my hallway in utter helplessness, wishing I could hold her. That she could hold me. That I couldsomehowturn back the clock and find a way to do things differently.
My breaths come in short rasps, and I’m feeling lightheaded, as though I’m not getting enough oxygen to my lungs, as the magnitude of her words permeates me down to my very core. I’m certain that the unbearable pain in my chest will be the end of me when Emmy’s almost stifled sob lands on my ears, and I know I need to hold her.
Right the fuck now.
Without further thought, I stand and kick off my shoes before I push open the ajar door separating us.
The slender curve of her spine faces me, her blonde hair piled atop her head as she looks out at the city beyond.
Her mournful eyes fly to mine when I stride across the room, her mouth dropping open in surprise as I grip the sides of the tub and step in, fully clothed. The bubbles slosh over the sides when I settle my full 6’4” frame into the water, my eyes never leaving Emmy’s tear-streaked face.
“What are you…”
She trails off when I gather her in my arms, holding her close to press a hard kiss to her brow. Her arms tentatively reach up to grasp the material of my wet shirt, pulling me closer as her body sags against me. All the pent-up tension leaves her shoulders as a sharp intake of breath catches on a low, aggrieved sob that’s like a knife to my gut.
And there, in the safety of my embrace, Emmy falls apart. As she cries quietly against my chest, I rest my cheek on her forehead and whisper mindless words of comfort.
Of sorrow. Of grief, not only for the baby we lost, but the life we could have had.
The life weshouldhave had were it not for forces outside of our control. And I’m once again filled with a bone-deep hatred for the man who betrayed every core value he instilled in me.
I lose track of how long we stay connected, and it isn’t until Emmy shivers that I realize the water has cooled substantially.
Without a word, I reach for her towel and stand as I hold it open for her to step into, carefully keeping my eyes fixed on hers at all times.
Once she’s wrapped up, I step from the tub and lift her into my arms, carrying her bridal style to the master bedroom.
When I set her on the bed, she silently watches me as I fish out an oversized T-shirt and new underwear that I know won’t fit her, but they’re all I’ve got right now. Her eyes never leave mine as I pass them to her, and she takes the offering with a soft smile before moving off into my ensuite to change.
As I hear her donning the items, I call through the partly open door, “I can get fresh panties delivered?—”
“I’m good, thanks.” Her chuckle is self-deprecatory, making my lips twitch upward in a lopsided smirk. “These are fine.”
She peeks around the door frame before re-entering my room. Her damp hair swishes down her back as my t-shirt brushes the tops of her knees. “Do you still prefer the left?”
My feet pause by the bathroom door at her quietly spoken question, and I nod once, glancing over my shoulder to watch as she peels back the covers before slipping in on the right side of my bed.
I continue into the ensuite, where I strip off my wet clothes and dump them in the hamper. Having toweled off, I don a fresh pair of Calvins, and walk back into my bedroom.
Emmy is snuggled down, her eyes studying the tattoo on my chest as I cross the space. And when I slide in on the left, I don’t hesitate to gather her to my side. I don’t have it inside of me at this point to even pretend I can put boundaries between us anymore.
She tucks herself in the way I know she likes, her bare leg slung over mine, her head resting on my chest, and my arm snug around her waist. I bury my nose in her hair, filling my lungswith her scent, which helps ease some of the lingering tension from my shoulders.
Sleep hushes her voice as she traces the ink on my chest with her index finger. “Don’t leave me.”
The gravity of that plea cleaves open my chest, and my arms tighten around her as the lump in my throat makes breathing difficult. All I can do is lie here, letting my actions speak when words fail me. Moments later, her hand stills on my chest, and her soft, rhythmic breathing tells me she’s succumbed to sleep, following a traumatic day in more ways than one.
I listen to her sleeping as I inhale the jasmine and rose scent surrounding us, and I’m filled with a renewed sense of purpose and determination.
As well as the knowledge that until I work through my demons, I’ll never become a man deserving of her love. And alongside her welfare,thatis my priority.
And as I allow myself to be lulled to sleep by the sweet cadence of Emmy’s even breathing, I silently vow to do whatever it takes to be the man she needs.
To be the man she deserves.
