That realization hits me in my chest.
Because if that shit disturbs me, then I can't begin to imagine what it does to her.
I watch her breathe.
And I think about the ultrasound. About how she closed her eyes before the doctor even turned the screen.
I didn't look away.
I stared at that monitor until my jaw ached and my eyes burned.
No heartbeat. No movement.
I never planned to be a father. I told myself people like me shouldn't make more life. But the second she told me she was pregnant, everything shifted. I let myself imagine it. Her smile. Our child. A future that is not just survival. That idea was what kept me moving while I hunted for her. Every sleepless night. Every trail. Every moment I expected to die. It was for her. For both of them.
I look at her face again.
She has not cried. Not once.
That scares me more than anything else.
I'm unraveling, and she is somewhere unreachable, sealed behind her own eyes.
I hate that I can't reach her. I hate it enough that I have to leave the room before I damage something that can't be fixed.
The kitchen lights are low, casting dull reflections across stainless steel. I stand at the counter longer than necessary, staring at nothing, then force myself to move. I fill a pot, set it on the burner, and watch the flame catch.
I lean back against the counter while it warms, breathing through the pressure in my chest. It feels like barbed wire wrapped around my lungs, tightening every time I inhale. I wait it out. I let the moment pass without letting it turn into something worse.
The meds have leveled the noise. That is the difference.
No shadow in the corner of the room. No reflection shifting in the steel behind me. No voice leaning in close to remind me I'm too late.
Luke has been quiet since I started taking them again.
Not gone.
Just silent.
Footsteps approach. I don't need to turn around to know it is Beau.
He stops a few feet away, then leans against the opposite counter, his arms crossed.
“You good?” Beau asks.
“No.”
“You want a drink?”
“No.”
“A distraction?”
I keep my eyes on the pot.
Beau shifts beside me. “We can make some scumbags disappear tonight. The kind nobody asks questions about.”
I exhale slowly. “Not right now.”
