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“But what made it easier was knowing I had a baby growing inside me. It was all I had and I didn’t care that it was Gerard’s. It was mine and . . . it was a piece of joy that I didn’t have.” I choked on the sob, my throat tight and chest aching as the memory of that moment pushed through. “The drugs . . . I’d been taking the drugs not knowing I was pregnant. I miscarried at six months.” I raised my head to look at Crisis. “They wouldn’t let me hold him. Not even for a second. All I knew was that he’d been a boy.
“I never heard him cry . . . I never saw his face.” Another tear slipped down my cheek and Crisis leaned into me and kissed it.
“Charlie?”
I nodded. I kept my eyes averted from him, afraid of what I’d see—disgust. Pity. Horror that I killed my own child. But when I finally did meet his eyes, there was none of that. He had that fierce crease between his glassy eyes filled with concern. I wanted to kiss the worry away. Ease the pain I saw in his eyes that matched my own.
“I freaked out after that and they kept me sedated for weeks. When I finally stopped crying, that was when something changed in me. I knew pain. I knew the loss of my brother and then my baby. That was my fault.”
“Jesus, Haven. None of it was your fault.” He moved and it was so he could look down at me and cup the sides of my face and make sure I was looking at him. “It’s not your fault. You have to know that.”
“I did the drugs.”
“Gerard forced you to. He raped you. You were kept high and addicted to that shit. Did you have a choice? Baby, did you have a choice? Because if you didn’t then you have to take it in that none of this is your fault.”
It was a while before I answered. “No. But I craved the drugs for a long time even if I never wanted to touch them again.” I separated our hands and ran my finger over the brand on my wrist. “This . . . this was a reminder that I was a possession. That I was no longer a person, but an object.”
His thumb wiped away another stray tear underneath my eye. “He branded you because he saw your strength. He was trying to break you, prove that you were nothing. You didn’t break, Haven. Your pieces may have scattered, but they didn’t break.”
I glanced over at him and saw the familiar quiet and calm steadiness within the depths of his eyes.
I reached up and he remained completely still as I traced my finger across his lower lip, the slight dampness from his tongue clinging to my skin. He never moved. It felt good to touch someone willingly, to know that it was my choice instead of the men who forced themselves on me.
“My brother . . .” I was his angel; this would crush him.
“He needs to know. He can’t move on and repair from the loss of the last twelve years without you.”
I’d asked him to accept me for who I was, but Crisis was right. How could I ask Ream to if he didn’t know who I was? “Yeah.”
We lay for a long time in one another’s arms, no words. Him processing all that I’d told him and me going through the loss again, but this time, it was with acceptance for what happened.
A buzzing sounded on the nightstand and I pulled away, glancing over at my phone, but I didn’t bother looking at the text. “How long has it been?”
“Eighteen hours.” Oh, God. “Dana called. She was concerned when you didn’t show up at school or answer her texts.”
“What did you tell her?”
“You had the flu.”
I nodded.
Crisis moved his arm away and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His back was to me and even though he had a shirt on, I could still see his muscles flexing. The mattress squeaked as he rose. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
But I didn’t feel like eating. “I want to go for a run.”
I expected him to say forget it, but he nodded. “Okay, I’ll go with you. Let me have a quick cold shower to wake up and call Luke.” He opened the door.
I didn’t know why security had to come with us, but I was just glad to go running. Running was my time alone; a way to find my steady again, but there was relief with his words. I wanted him with me. “Crisis?”
He half-turned toward me.
“Thank you . . . for not leaving me.” He smiled and I loved that smile. It warmed me up from my toes up to the top of my head. “The deal in the stable? Why did you do it? Luke could’ve told you what was happening with me. I didn’t have to text you.”
“It was a way to get you to talk to your brother. He needed that, so did you. The texting . . .” He dropped his head forward and I could see him chewing on his bottom lip. I grew a little nervous when he hesitated, then he straightened and our eyes locked. “I was cocky enough to believe I could make you fall madly in love with me over text.” I expected a wink or a grin; Crisis did neither. He turned and left.
My heart pumped wildly and a rush of heat soared through my body like a firecracker was set off inside me. The door clicked closed and I laid back closing my eyes as his words repeated over and over in my head.
He was serious. The deal wasn’t so he could make sure I was okay, because that was Luke’s job. The deal was to help my brother and I get back some of what we lost. And . . . and so I’d talk to Crisis. He’d known back then what was between us was more. He wanted me to fall in love with him?
