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His sharp intake of breath confirmed her fear. “You had a C-section?” His expression intent as if he were figuring out calculus.
She heated with shame but just as quickly, a chill followed, turning her blood to ice. Her chest constricted with pain so tight that she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do what every cell in her body told her to do:run.
Toth drilled her with his scrutinizing focus. Confusion rippled his brow, but more concerning was the pity and maybe even accusation lighting the gray tones of his eyes. “You have a kid?” he breathed.
The question undid her. Tears filled her eyes, and a sob squeezed out of her throat as she pushed herself to her feet, panic lighting her veins on fire.
CHAPTER 14
Toth scrambled topull up his pants as he stood. He caught Savannah’s biceps as she tried to breeze past. Angst pressed against his windpipe. It didn’t take a genius to identify a C-section scar, but dammit he probably could have broached the question better.
Savannah jerked in his grip. “Let me go,” she cried. Her hair fluttered around her face. The glow of pleasure that had lit her cheeks was now gone. Sorrow contorted her features and tears collected on her eyelashes. A sob ripped from her chest. “Now, Toth.Let me go.”
Guilt festered in his gut. The fact that he’d upset her and brought so much pain to the surface made him want to kick in his own teeth. He didn’t let go. Couldn’t. She’d run away, and he didn’t want her to be alone.
Hell, he couldn’t pin her down either. She pushed at his chest, her desperation to flee turning her devastation into rage. He wouldn’t invade her personal space or make her feel threatened. She’d had enough of that in her life. But his heart was cracking in his chest.
The rational part of his brain told him to give her what she wanted, but the other part told him to comfort her. Helplessness stole the strength from his muscles, and he dropped to his knees in front of her, bringing his face level with her belly.
Surrendering to her.
Savannah stopped thrashing. Surprise froze her in place. Her arms remained rigid in his hold, but she stopped trying to run. Her lip quivered.
“Honey,” he breathed. The pleading tone came from an aching cavern in his chest. Never in his life had he wanted to absorb someone’s pain as badly as he did right now. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m sorry.” Sorry she was hurting. Sorry he’d asked. Sorry he’d pushed. It didn’t matter why. He was just so fucking sorry.
Slowly, he let go. When she didn’t run, he brought his arms around her waist, cradling her abdomen to his cheek. She brought one hand to the top of his head, the other to his cheek. He kissed her palm and held her.
With that, her body shook and her broken cries filled the room, carving another pathway of sympathy through him. If he moved, he might send her running again, but he couldn’t just let her stand there and cry. Gently, he pulled her to his lap.
Her body folded against his. Her face pressed into the crook of his neck, and her legs curled on top of his thighs. He circled his arms around her and kissed her hair.
The fire hissed as the flames died down, but he didn’t care. Her gut-wrenching wails made his eyes burn with emotion. He held her as if she’d float away if he didn’t. Minutes went by. Gradually, her crying turned to ragged breaths.
He stroked her temple gently and steadily. He could feel her heartbeat knocking against his chest. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. Questions burned his tongue, but he’d already done too much damage.
She sucked in a shaky breath. “I never named her.” The statement came out small and fragile.
A daughter. She’d had a girl. He didn’t speak. Just waited.
“I couldn’t. It’s like... naming her would have made it all too real.” A beat passed. “I regret that.”
He closed his eyes at the tiny confession. “You can name her now.”
She scoffed. “What kind of mother doesn’t name her dead child?”
He covered her cheek with his hand, tilting her head so she was looking at him. “One who’s hurting too much. One who loves her baby.”
Tears filled her eyes again, but the hysteria didn’t return. God, he wanted to know so fucking much. Wanted to take away her pain. To kill whoever hadn’t saved Savannah’s daughter.
She lowered her gaze but didn’t pull away. “Her third birthday would have been next week,” she said, her voice distant.
He glided his thumb along her cheekbone, urging her to reveal more before he combusted.
“She was so tiny.” Her chin dipped. “I held her for as long as I could, but...” Tears leaked out of her eyes, and his breath stilled in his lungs.
There was a lot he didn’t know about Savannah. God, she’d endured so much. Never had it crossed his mind she’d gone through the grief of losing a child. “Did she come early?” The question blurted from his lips.
She nodded. “I was twenty-six weeks pregnant with her when—” Her voice broke, and she pressed her knuckles to her lips.