Page 96 of Louder Than Words

Her head snaps toward me so fast it almost startles me. Her eyes, swollen and bloodshot, now suddenly wide with something more than just sadness.

Now it’s anger.

“Don’t,” she states firmly, then slowly shakes her head. “Don’t say it. Please, Jax.”

I press my lips into a tight line, carefully mulling over what I have to say—what Ineedto say.

My fingers find the bottom of her chin, and I hold it gently. “Remember what Dr. Lavoie said? She said we have to keep the stress to a minimum. You staying in bed all day? That’s fine. That’s great, even. But you’ve gotta eat, drink your water, and take your supplements. As long as you relax—”

“Relax?” she snaps, cutting me off. “How exactly am I supposed to relax, Jax? Just sit here and wait for the appointment where she tells me the baby is gone? Pretend everything’s fine while my two daughters move in with Trevor on top of it? I’m supposed to relax while everything around me keeps falling apart?”

Tears start pouring down her cheeks so fast it knocks the air from my lungs.

I do my best to wipe them away, but they’re falling too fast, each swipe cracking my heart in a new place. Then she plants both hands over mine and forces me to look into her puffy, broken eyes.

That’s when it shatters completely.

“Please, Jax,” she pleads. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do that doesn’t involve me pretending everything’s okay. I think I’ve done that enough. Don’t you?”

I tilt my head, words caught in my throat as my eyes trail over her now drenched face. “I know, Al. But—”

She cuts me off by forcing my hands off her face, resting them firmly on the bed with a tap. “Go back to Boston, Jax. Please,” she says, with so much finality it feels like a slap to the face.

My eyebrows pinch together so tight they almost touch. “What do you mean? Why would I—”

“Because I can’t do this right now, Jax.” She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, looking defeated in a way that seriously worries me. “I can’t have you hovering over me with those sad eyes. You’re just... just a reminder that my body is failing the one thing it’s supposed to do.”

Before I even realize it’s happening, a tear rolls down my cheek, and she shakes her head the second she catches it.

“Don’t do that,” she says quietly. “Please, don’t cry.”

She wipes my tear away softly, brushing it away with the pad of her thumb.

I blink hard, grabbing her hands that still rest on my cheeks and push into them. “I just want to help you, Al. I can’t watch you go through this—”

“So don’t,” she whispers. I almost flinch, the words slicing through me like a knife. “Go back to Boston, Jax. Just for a few days… until the doctor’s appointment. I need time to be able to fall apart without you looking at me like I’m fragile.”

“I’m not trying to look at you like you’re fragile, Allie. Of course it’s tearing me apart to see you in this much pain, it always will—”

“So do this for me,” she pleads, eyes glossing over with fresh tears, ready to spill. “Watching you in just as much pain… I can’t handle it, Jax. So please, go to Boston, and then come back to me.”

Her voice is so small, so desperate it doesn’t even sound like my Allie anymore.

I open my mouth, then close it again. There’s a million different things I want to say. All of them jumping out at me at the same exact time.

That I’m not leaving.

That we’re in this together.

That I made promises, and I meant them.

But none of that matters if she can’t breathe with me in the same room as her.

So, instead, I nod. One small, heavy, unwanted nod.

“Okay,” I breathe. I place my hands on her cheeks, pulling her toward me so I can pepper her wet face in as many soft kisses as I can, wishing that they would heal her soul in some way.

But I know they won’t.