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“I’ll give you a moment,” she says, coming to the bed and dipping, feeling at my hair as she kisses me. “My darling.”
I swallow, as a new batch of tears comes, and I surrender to the heartache. Zinnea will be missing Dexter in this moment more than any other, her husband always there, calm and controlled, to get us through these times. It’s so hard to comprehend the level of his betrayal when I think about him during those episodes. Compassionate, light. He had all the time in the world to remain by my side, as well as keeping Zinnea calm, while I fought through my attack. But it was all lies. Deceit. How did I not see that? His darkness.
Zinnea’s struggling to keep her own emotions in check as she backs out of the room, the vivacious woman wilting with every step she takes.
“She shouldn’t be alone,” I say, trying to get up again, worried about her state of mind. I hate that she’s seen me like this when she’s swimming against the tide herself.
“I’ll message Esther,” James says, stopping me, at the same time going to his cell and typing out a message. Within a few seconds of clicking send, he gets a reply and tucks it away. “Come here.” He takes the bag and helps me to the top of the bed, settling beside me and hugging me into his side. I relax in his hold, feeling my muscles yield and my heart quieten. I store this closeness and feeling in my mind to call upon when I need it. I must remember this. James can soothe me. Not like he has so often in the past with sex, but how he is now simply with his arms. Holding me. It’s another form of communication without words. But we need words now. If we’re going to make it through this loss, we need words.
“When I lost our baby,” I whisper quietly, building the courage I need to speak clearly and confidently, “I felt the same intense pain and hollowness that I felt when I lost . . .” I close my eyes and curl further into his side, fighting that pain back again. “It hurt,” I whisper. “Still hurts, and it’s getting harder to control it.” It’s backward. It’s angering. After the shock of my pregnancy, I allowed myself to consider an existence beyond struggling. Beyond the bitterness and hate that ruled me. James and who he is, what he stands for, was easier to wrap my mind around. Because we are the same in a sense. Polluted. Tarnished. We could fix each other, move forward, but our pasts would never change. A baby? It felt like redemption. Bright hope. An opportunity to channel all my energy into loving rather than hating. And what I hate in this world is the very thing that stole that opportunity from me, and despite having James to love, there was suddenly more to loathe. More to resent. More pain to feel.
James remains silent against me. I don’t need his words, because I know better than I know my pain that he feels the same. He has more reasons to kill now. More men to hunt. It’s his outlet. He’s mine. And the distance between us lately, our loss, isn’t relieving that.
St. Lucia helped, but it was short-lived. I’m a master at concealing my grief as well as my scars, and these past few days I’ve made a conscious effort not to cover my scars. It was a pathetic attempt to convince everyone I’m okay. Even more pathetic that I thought I could convince James. “I’m not okay,” I admit, feeling his mouth fall to my hair, breathing me into him, his arms constricting. “I’m not okay, and a desperately want to be okay.” A baby won’t fix it. That’s not what I’m saying I need. It was an unexpected opportunity, something to deal with, and we did. Now, my priority is getting both of us out of Miami alive. Alive and with no risk of being taken back to hell again, but until we can leave, I just have to deal with this constant, dull, consuming pain. I feel like I’m in limbo, my sadness and hope colliding and exploding constantly. Rose’s news has only amplified the odd sense of longing inside of me. But it will happen again, and it will happen when we don’t have death tailing us. When we have nothing to focus on but each other. “Rose is pregnant,” I murmur, and immediately feel his chest sink under my hand with a big inhale. “I’m okay.” I smile to myself. I can’t be anything but happy for her. It’s a gift. Perhaps not at the right time, but it’s such a beautiful gift. It’s also hope for us, because we know Danny, and now, more than before, he will move heaven and earth to get Rose out of Miami as soon as he can, which means we can leave too. We can leave and start to properly deal with the mess that is us.
