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“I’m scared,” I whispered, rubbing my flat stomach, staring into the eyes of the man I loved.
“You’re smart to be,” he replied. “I’ve lived what a lot of people would call a dangerous and deadly life, and nothing terrifies me like that.” His eyes were on my flat stomach. But there was no fear like he spoke of. Only wonder. Love.
My eyes prickled, and I cursed the hormones swirling around my body for making me want to bawl at the drop of a hat. Then again, my very sexy, very badass man staring at me with such naked love wasn’t exactly the drop of a hat.
“Being a parent,” he continued. “Being responsible for a small, pure, vulnerable thing. Having to find a way to give values that I was not taught and that I sure as fuck don’t possess. Not to mention diapers.”
He shuddered. My badass, villainous man actually shuddered.
I let out a giggle, despite the thoughts still gnawing at my insides. Despite the memories I had buried ever since I saw those two lines on the tests.
“I’m not worried about being a parent,” I said. “Not really anyway. I’m sure we’ll fuck up some things. Most things even. But we’ll love that little shit with all our hearts, and I think that’s the most important thing.” My eyes met his. “I’ve felt what it’s like to be loved by you, and I think our child is already the luckiest baby that there ever was.” My voice shook, and my eyes moistened with tears I wouldn’t let fall.
Karson’s gaze softened and his expression melted.
Melted.
The man who was made of iron and steel for everyone else melted for me.
For me and our baby.
Fear clutched at my heart, squeezing it tighter with every beat.
And Karson, the man that he was, noticed. He tilted his head ever so slightly. “What are you scared of, then, darlin’?” he asked in an impossibly soft tone.
“This,” I whispered. “You. Us. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. The only real thing I’ve ever felt. And from what I understand about love, it isn’t supposed to come this … easy. There are meant to be struggles. Pain. And we haven’t had that. I’m afraid it’s not possible to have this without something devastating to balance it out.”
I bit my lip as the words hung in the air. My mind threatened to go to that box I’d locked and shoved away, letting out all of the ghosts.
Karson prevented that from happening. “Stop that shit right now,” he demanded. “You’re Wren Whitney. You do not invite devastation. You do not think about devastation. That is not who you are,” he reached for my hand. “It’s who I am. I’ve lived a life of pain. Of blood. Nightmares. And I do not hope. It isn’t in me. But I found some of it when I looked into your eyes for the first time. Found even more when you inked my name on your skin. And today, hearing our child’s heartbeat, I felt it again. You gave that to me. Don’t you dare take it away from yourself.”
That was it. That was the moment when I should’ve told him the one thing I’d been hiding from him. From everyone. That was time to unlock the box so it would stop rattling, so it would stop haunting me. Waking me in the middle of night with an inescapable feeling of dread.
But I couldn’t do it. Not after everything he just said. Not after seeing the hope shining in his eyes.
Jay and Stella got married.
They climbed their mountain.
Not without effort, but they did it.
I, obviously, planned the entire wedding. I’d run around the entire city, flying in and out to scout flowers, furniture, bands. Karson had not liked that. He tried to argue with me until I reminded him about the Viking conversation. Then he shut up. But that did not stop him from glaring. From following me everywhere he could. Phillipe was with me whenever Karson wasn’t.
Which was great, actually, since Phillipe had excellent taste and really helped with some of the tougher decisions when it came to Stella and Jay’s wedding.
Our baby grew. We had the photo from the latest ultrasound pinned on the fridge. I felt it move. Karson felt it move. It became real. My fears and dread slowly drifted away.
The box stopped rattling.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mightiest of Guns – A.A. Bondy
We fought on the last happy day of our lives.
The last true day of our relationship.
It was a familiar fight. One we’d been having on and off since I announced my pregnancy. The outside observer might think that Karson was constantly ready for a fight. That he thrived on such things. Someone who knew my man even a little, who knew the position he held in the underworld, might’ve thought that he couldn’t exist without conflict.
