Page 18

It jarred my memory in the absolute worst way.

The sudden smell of fresh flowers, the feel of the cool breeze on my face, and hearing the vomiting all over again while the smell of dinner wafted past me. “You okay?” I knocked on the bathroom door a second time then let myself in.

Her beautiful black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and she was sitting next to the toilet looking helpless. “Do you want the good news or bad news?”

“Always lead with the bad.” I joined her on the floor and grabbed her hand.

She laid her head on my shoulder. “I think I pulled a rib.”

I smirked. “I’ll patch you up, what’s the good news?”

“You’re stuck with me.” She grinned down at our joined hands. “My wish came true. We’re pregnant.”

My body gave an involuntary shudder.

We’re pregnant.

We’re pregnant.

We’re pregnant.

Everything about those two words set my world on fire—how could I have possibly known that she would use those flames to burn our entire existence down?

“Raven?” I knocked harder. “I’m coming in.”

I ignored the whimpering and let myself into the dark room. The covers on the bed were on the floor like she got in a fight with the sheets and decided to add some extra kicks.

The lights were dim, and the sound of puking coming from the bathroom didn’t stop. I stepped through the door. She leaned over the toilet and held her hair back with one hand while tears streamed down her face dropping into the toilet. “Fucking sandwich!”

I said nothing. What could I really say? She needed food even if it didn’t stay in her system that long. I gently shoved her hand away and gathered her hair. She didn’t fight me, but her posture went so stiff I almost checked to see if she was still breathing.

“Please,” she rasped. “Don’t.”

I ignored her.

She leaned back and elbowed me in the ribs. “I’m done for now, but if you keep touching me I really will puke all over you.”

I didn’t doubt it. I just wasn’t sure whether it was from the fact that I was repulsive to her or because her stomach was weak from the food.

The sandwich shouldn’t have done anything to make her stomach upset, but I knew that she was still dealing with all the emotional aftermath of the day.

I stood to my full height and held out my hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She swatted my hand away. “I can manage on my own. The last thing I need is a babysitter. I just want to be alone.”

“In the dark with your feelings?” I offered. “You do realize that immediate isolation during grief accounts for at least twenty percent of?—”

“I don’t want stats,” she interrupted and stood. “I know my own body and I know my mind, furthermore, I have a broken heart, so give me a little grace before you continue to chastiseme like a child.” She forced a pretty smile. “You can kindly shove your stats up your ass and see yourself out.”

I almost smiled. Almost. “I’ll check on you later. Do you need the ketamine or do you think you can sleep?”

She crossed her arms. “Are you giving me an option now?”

"It was a very convincing lecture.” I leaned in.

Her eyes were so uncertain, so lost, I knew I needed to give her the semblance of control even though it was a complete falsehood. She wanted something to hold onto, let her think that she had a right to that, when the truth was she’d lost every right the minute she was put in harm’s way.

Her life was no longer her own.