I nodded. “It happened when we went to rescue Katherine from Andrew.”
Flynn stilled. “You fell…”
“Yes,” I whispered. “The fall caused me to miscarry.”
“Did you know? Before all that happened with Andrew, did you know you were pregnant?”
I shook my head. “It was early, Flynn. Really early. I hadn’t missed my period yet. Later the doctor… he told me…due to the trauma of the fall, I miscarried.” I swallowed my tears. “And then he told me I wouldn’t be able to have any more children because of the way my pelvis broke.”
“But I’d had a vasectomy—”
“It failed.”
Flynn closed his eyes and remorse rolled across his face. When he finally opened his eyes to look at me, they appeared unusually bright. “You still haven’t explained why you come here? Why do you torture yourself? Losing the baby was out of your control.”
I played with the dainty wedding band on my finger. It had belonged to Flynn’s mother. I didn’t feel like I deserved to wear it.
“This is the place where I lost myself, Flynn. Dolinsky brought me here and I left a different woman.” I stared back into the flames, unable to endure the hurt that spread across Flynn’s expression. “I think I deserved to lose our baby. I think it was punishment. For my sins.”
“If we were punished for our sins, then I should be dead many times over.” He stood up and came to me and gripped me by the upper arms. “You should’ve told me about the baby, so I could’ve been there for you. And you shouldn’t feel guilty for losing our baby.”
I gripped his sweater, trying to infuse him with understanding. “Don’t you get it? I’ve killed to protect my children. But I couldn’t even protect the life growing inside me.”
“You have to let it go.” He pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around me. “You saved Katherine, love. Your only mistake was not confiding in me.”
“I didn’t know how. I didn’t even…”
“What?”
“I didn’t even write about it. During the year that I was healing I poured my grief and anger into my journals, but I never admitted I was pregnant. Not even to myself. I just buried it.”
“Whatdidyou put in those journals, hen? You never let me read them.”
“You never asked.”
“I respect your privacy.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
He tugged on my hair and forced me to look him in the eyes, and then from somewhere deep within him, he rumbled, “Maybe you should stop thinking you have to carry all your burdens alone.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You hurt me more when you live your life without me. Justtellme, hen.”
Tears seeped from the corners of my eyes, and he brushed them away with his thumbs.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because you love me in a way that’s hard for me. It’s so unconditional. At times I can’t bare it.”
He smiled and it was tender and sincere. Far more tender than I deserved. “Aye.”
“I don’t know why I cause you pain and then run.”
“That has to stop. Promise me now, Barrett. I won’t tolerate it anymore. If you have a problem from now on, you come to me. When you dream about the men you’ve killed, you wake me up and talk about it. I love you more than you know, but that all stops now.”
My eyes widened. “How did you—”
