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Moments pass us by like waves lapping the shore. They’re here, sweeping over us, captivating us, crashing into us. Then, they’re gone.
Not love, though.
Love is eternal.
It surpasses time. The darkness can’t put out its fire. It overcomes.
Love made me fight.
Love gave me strength.
Love brought me back.
For a brief moment, in the darkness, I saw Reid. His bright green eyes lit up with his smile. He took my hand and told me to fight. “I told you to live, Smalls. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” He glanced at my stomach, and I felt it—the acceptance, the approval. The closure. It was a palpable force wrapping around us. Both of us. “You have something worth fighting for.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug, and it was warm—so warm. Peace like I’d never known washed over me. “Go to him. To both of them,” he whispered. And then he disappeared.
I will never know if it was a dream or if he was really there. But God it felt good to see him again, and to know that he’s okay. That we’re okay.
I wake to the familiarbeepof a bedside monitor and the faintswishof an ultrasound machine.
My little bean.
My body aches, every inch of it. A constant, stinging pain slices through my abdomen, sharpening every time I breathe. The room is quiet and dark. Flashbacks drill through my throbbing head, threatening no hope. No light. No way out. I seehisface, hearhisvoice, feel the piercing pain of his violation.
I clench my eyes shut. Force myself to breathe.
I know pain.
I know grief.
I know loneliness.
But this…this is a storm of humiliation, fear, shame, emptiness, and anger, spiraling out of control. And I don’t know how to navigate any of it. The self-loathing feels unsurmountable, like I’m no longer in control of my own body. I’m crumbling under the weight of it. I wonder if it will always feel like this, if I will ever stop spiraling. And then I open my eyes.
Callisto sits in a chair beside the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head propped in his hands. He’s staring at the floor. Even with a pale, yellow frock covering his clothes, he’s a sight to behold.
My savior.
The storm doesn’t disappear, but it calms in his presence.
“Hey.” My throat feels like sandpaper.
His head snaps up. He takes a measured breath. “Hi.”
“The baby?”
“Is going to be fine. He didn’t hit any vital organs.”
Relief washes over me.He’s okay. We’re okay.
I glance at my stomach, wincing at the tape and gauze covering my wound. “It looks like we’ll have matching scars.”
“That’s not funny.”
I smirk, raising my brows. “Come on. It’s a little funny.” It’s not, but if I don’t make light of it the darkness will smother me.
His jaw tenses. “Makenna…”
I reach over and cup his face. “My tortured man. Always so serious.”
