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What was he doing locked up in here for the past four days? Obviously drinking himself into oblivion. But just over Holy Hellfire? Yes, he had affection for the horse. He loved him even. And maybe his bond with the horses goes deeper than I understand but locking himself up like that is not a normal reaction. It’s got to be about something deeper. Maybe connected to the demons that wake him up yelling in the middle of the night. How? I have no clue.
Because he doesn’t talk to me.
And he won’t let you touch him.
I wrap my arms over my abdomen, feeling cold in spite of the warmth of the shower spray. I might be having a child with this man, but how well do I really know him? So much has changed since I’ve come here—I’ve changed so much. And I like the person I’m becoming even if I don’t fully understand all the ramifications of who that person is yet. I feel as strong as ever, yet not as hard, if that makes sense.
But can this really work for the long term if he won’t fully share himself?
“Are you all right?” Xavier’s brows knit in concern and he steps closer, covered in suds from his intensive wash-down. He reaches out a hand to my upper arm. His touch is warm and I can’t help but lean into it.
Because as screwed up and emotionally unavailable as he might be, it’s too late.
I’ve fallen for him.
Hard.
“I’m okay. Here,” I step out of the spray to make way for him. “Wash off.”
He stares at me uncertainly for another moment, scrutinizing my face, but then acquiesces and begins to wash off the suds. He washed his hair before I came in, so it’s just a matter of quickly rinsing off and then we’re out of the shower and he’s toweling us down.
Once he’s got me dressed in a thick terrycloth robe, he lies on the bed beside me, brushing my hair back from my face.
He said I should take one of the pharmacy pregnancy tests he’s apparently stocked up on. In spite of all his assurances of their accuracy, though, I’d rather just wait for the doctor. If they say negative or positive, I’ll still be freaking out that I’m miscarrying based on the results. I can’t handle that shit right now.
So instead we’re just lying in bed with each other as we wait for the obstetrician. Xavier didn’t bother shaving and I have to say, I sort of like the five days’ scruff that’s almost a full beard on him. Makes him look dark and dangerous. Though it also highlights the burned streaks on the left side of his cheek where the hair won’t grow in. I imagine if the beard had more time to fill out, it might eventually hide them.
We’ve spent the last few minutes not talking. He’s just been lying there, staring at me. With anyone else, I imagine such a silence would feel supremely uncomfortable. With him, though, I just feel comforted and… not alone. He doesn’t shy away from me looking at him and I rarely get a chance to examine him up close like this.
His face is wide and broad like a boxer’s, but his wide mouth that stretches his whole face and deep brow balance it out. When he smiles, it’s dazzling and when he’s pensive, like now, you still can’t help but stare at his lips.
But I chance looking into his blue, crystalline eyes.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
He immediately glances away.
“Please? Don’t I have a right to know?”
His mouth tenses into a line and maybe that was a low blow but at the same time, I feel like it’s true. I do have a goddamned right. I might be the mother of his freaking child. He just put me
through hell for the past four days. And I need for him to start opening up to me.
He’s quiet for so long I think he’s not going to answer me.
But then, finally, with a hard swallow that makes his Adam’s apple bob up and down, he starts speaking. “I was in the Army. A lieutenant stationed at a detention facility at Bagram Air base.”
I’m only partially surprised he’s not bringing up Hellfire. Deep down, I knew this was about so much more than a favored horse.
He stares at the ceiling while he talks and each word seems like a struggle to get out. He has to take a deep breath before finishing. “Men under my command made a mistake that cost a lot of people their lives. It was something I could have prevented if I’d prepared them better.”
What he doesn’t say is clear on his face. He blames himself for the deaths of those people, whoever they were. I hesitate before asking my next question but I don’t know when he’ll be willing to talk so openly again.
“Is that when…?” I reach toward his face but withdraw my hand before he can push it away. “Is that when you got hurt?”
He nods.
I wait for him to give me anything more.
