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I sat myself up, and Kip rushed to help me so I could press my forehead against his.
“It’s a lot harder than that to get rid of me, I promise,” I told him. “I’m not going anywhere, buddy. I’ve got a whole life to live.” I placed my hand on top of his on my stomach. “We’vegot a life to live.”
“This is my fault,” he said, tone clipped, haunted and full of guilt. A similar kind of guilt that coated his words when he talked about his wife and daughter.
“This is not your fault,” I said firmly, my voice still scratchy.
He ran his hand through his hair as if he wanted to tear it out. “It is,” he argued. “When I found out what he did to you, I wanted to kill him. But I couldn’t leave you. Wouldn’t leave you. I also couldn’t let him live a life of fucking comfort knowing what he’d taken from you.” Fury leeched from his words, as though Emmet were still here, as though Kip hadn’t just killed him.
He had killed him, hadn’t he? He’d snapped his neck. I’d heard it.
“I fucked with his business,” Kip continued. “Ruined his life, because I am still that fucking man. I’m still that fucking man that needs blood, needs to destroy. And I almost destroyed my whole fucking world.”
“Hey,” I said softly, grabbing onto him. “No. You didn’t almost do anything. I’m here. She’s here. Emmet isn’t. And I know it’s not something a good person would say, but I’m glad he isn’t. I’m glad you ruined his life. That he took his last breath knowing he lost. Knowing I was still here. I was yours.” I took his hand and placed it on my belly. “We are yours.”
His eyes searched mine as if looking for an anchor. I tried my best to give it to him. He’d saved me out in the ocean. Now I had to save him from himself. His past.
There was a motion beside us, and I blinked at the black shape making its way toward us.
“Boo!” I cried, moving just enough so the cat could crawl between us, breaking the moment in that careless way only cats could.
She let me stroke her fur as I inspected her for any kind of damage. She looked fine.
“She scratched him,” I explained to Kip, laying a kiss on her fur. “She tried to protect me.”
“A dog would’ve done a better job,” he grumbled but ruffled Boo’s fur affectionately.
I kissed her nose.
She stared at me, then Kip, and turned around, presenting us with her ass before she strutted to the end of the sofa, settling herself beside my feet.
I giggled. First small, then larger. Sure, there was probably an edge of hysteria to the laughter, but most of it was real.
Kip regarded me with concern for a beat before the corner of his mouth twitched. I doubted he was able to muster up anything close to a smile because he was still deep in badass worry mode, but I was teasing my carefree husband back toward the light.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s just, you know, we’re trying to have a poignant and intense moment, and then the cat interrupts and ends it with shoving her ass in our faces before walking off,” I said as I giggled.
Kip tilted his head, still staring at me intensely, still not smiling. He brushed a sodden strand of my hair from my face.
“I love you very much,” he said quietly.
The words boomed inside my head, and I stopped laughing.
I squeezed his hand.
“I know,” I murmured.
The waves crashing was the only sound for a handful of seconds as we had yet another poignant moment.
Then Kip jerked, as if he were lurching out of some kind of trance. “Now can I take you to the motherfucking hospital?”
I grinned again. “Sure, you can. Only if you don’t carry me.”
“No fucking way,” he replied, lifting me into his arms.
“Kip,” I snapped. “I am now able to walk. I’m not an invalid just because I’m pregnant and was almost drowned.”
