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Chapter twenty-nine

Patrick

I stopped the Dramamine a week ago and watched the nausea creep back in, just like I knew it would. Quiet at first. Then more frequent.

I started cooking with ingredients that used to make Mara gag—heavy garlic, extra onions, eggs cooked in way too much butter. Just in case they hit Levana in the same way. I kept an eye on her every second, waiting for that flinch, that grimace, that quiet ‘ ugh’ that might mean something’s clicked.

And I’ve been touchy. Not to purposefully hurt her—I’d never do that. But when we’re close, I press my hands to her chest, trail my fingers under the swell of her breasts, and squeeze, a little harder than usual, just enough to make her hiss and wince. Hoping something would register.

It didn’t, but I didn’t say a damn word, played dutiful boyfriend and held her through it.

Until this morning.

But I wasn’t expecting her to react like that.

I thought she’d be happy. I thought she’d cry tears of joy, bury her face in my chest, tell me how much she loves me, our baby, our family. Tell me this is the happiest she’s ever been in her whole entire life.

We made a baby. A fucking baby .

Right there in her belly, there’s a perfect little person that’s half me and half her.

And she wants to kill it, wants to stop everything in its tracks before the plan can even really get going.

She’s scared—I know she’s scared—but she’s being stubborn too.

She won’t even give it a chance. Won’t even listen.

She’s sitting across from me at the kitchen table now, clutching a cup of coffee in both hands. She screamed at me until I gave in—told me if I didn’t let her have some damn caffeine, she’d walk straight out the door and wade through the snow until she found someone who would. So I caved.

Now she’s just… there, not even drinking it, just watching as the steam curls upward in thin, lazy ribbons.

I thought she’d be happy.

I thought she’d want to be a mommy again.

I went through her phone last night, scrolled through her camera roll long after she’d fallen asleep, curled up against my chest.

Violet was beautiful.

Tiny— so tiny —her limbs delicate, almost too small to believe. In the earliest pictures, she’s covered in wires and tubes, her little face swallowed up by an oxygen mask. Levana’s there in those photos too. Hair tied back, dark circles under her eyes, a hospital gown slipping off one shoulder, but she’s smiling. Holding Violet’s tiny hand with this look on her face like she’d never seen anything more precious in her life.

There’s a picture from when Violet was a little older—maybe a month or so. She’s still small, still fragile, but her eyes are open, wide and bright, and her fingers curled tightly around one of Levana’s. Levana’s grinning, her cheeks flushed, hair messy like she hadn’t even thought about brushing it, because it didn’t matter. Not when she had her baby in her arms.

Then there’s one where Violet’s sleeping on Levana’s chest, her little face relaxed, mouth slightly open. Levana’s eyes are closed too, her arms curled protectively around her daughter as the lights from a Christmas tree glint in the background. She looks so peaceful in that one, like she finally allowed herself to rest, like she knew her baby was safe in that moment.

I can’t stop thinking about them.

She was happy. I know she was.

And she can be happy again.

“I know you’re scared, Levana,” I say quietly. “But you don’t have to do this alone.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “It’s not about doing it on my own, Patrick. I just don’t want to do it. Period.”

“I’m here though, baby,” I say, softer this time. “You’ve got me right here. Doctors’ appointments, cravings, bad days—I’ll be right there through it all. You want a foot massage? Sure thing. You want me to wash your back? Yes, please. You want me to rub lotion into your belly for you? Absolutely. You want ice cream at 3a.m.? Whatever you want..”

She huffs out a bitter breath. “That’s not the point.”

“You’re so fucking good at loving people,” I say, the words tumbling out. “Levana, you love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You gave Violet everything, and I know you’d give this baby the same.”

“I know I’m good at loving people,” she snaps. “And yes. I gave Violet everything I could. That’s why I don’t want to do this. I don’t want a future where I might experience that heartbreak again. It’s not fair.”

“I swear to you,” I say, reaching across the table to grab her hand. “I’ll keep you both safe. I promise.”

She pulls away from me like my skin was about to scald hers.

“Just give me my phone,” she says, voice breaking. “Please, Patrick. I don’t want this conversation. I want to go home and call a doctor. Shit, I want to talk to my best friend.”

“Don’t fucking mention him.”

She bolts up from the chair, eyes dripping with poison, and rounds the table fast. “I’ve already checked all these drawers looking for my cigarettes, and I didn’t see it. Where the fuck is it?”

“Levana,” I snap, shoving to my feet.

Blood’s roaring through my ears. This is getting out of control.

She spins toward the door, already moving. “ Where the fuck is my phone, Patrick?”

“I’m not telling you,” I shoot back, following her.

She whips around, face flushed with fury. “The fuck you’re not!”

In a split second, she’s halfway up the staircase.

“Levana! Stop!”

I take the stairs two at a time, reaching the top just as she stumbles into the bedroom. She’s ripping open drawers, yanking at the wardrobe doors, working herself into a panic.

“It’s not in here,” I say. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Then where is it?” she growls, turning to face me, chest heaving. “Patrick, where the fuck is it?”

“I’m not telling you,” I say again, stepping closer.

“Fuck this. Fuck your bullshit. Fuck you.” She snaps, jerking away from me.

“Baby, please,” I say quickly, raising my hands. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

Her eyes flick past me, sharp and focused.

“Levana…” I start, but she’s already moving.

She ducks under my arm, twisting out of my reach before I can grab her.

“Where is it?” she throws over her shoulder, already bolting down the hall.

“Levana, no—WAIT!” I’m on her heels, my heart pounding in my ears.

“I’m sorry,” she says to the walls—to the ceiling. “Mara, I’m sorry. Alexander, I’m so sorry. I just—I need to find my phone. I need to leave. Please forgive me for what I’m about to do.”

Fuck.

She’s going to their rooms.

You better have locked the fucking door, Mara.

“Levana, wait!”

But she’s already there, hand curling around the door handle.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Levana, please, don’t—”

The door swings open.

I watch the breath leave her like she’s been punched square in the ribs. Her eyes go wide, and then she stumbles back a step, foot catching on the doorframe. One hand reaches out like she needs to steady herself, but there’s nothing to hold onto.

“Levana?” Mara’s voice drifts from inside.

Levana’s gaze flickers to me, then back to the room, then back to me again.

“Baby…” I start, stepping toward her, my voice low and careful.

But she darts around me, and then she’s sprinting down the hall and staircase, footsteps pounding against the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, Patrick!” Mara’s voice snaps from behind me. I spin around to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw set in anger. “Get her!”

I don’t hesitate.

I bolt after her.

“Levana!” I shout again, but she’s already out the front door—nothing but a flash of auburn hair disappearing into the snow.

“Shit!” I hiss, shoving my boots on, barely even lacing them as I stumble after her.

Sharp, icy wind cuts straight to the bone. The snow’s coming down thick and fast, swirling in blinding sheets that make it hard to see more than a few feet ahead.

I can barely make out her footprints in the fresh snow, staggering in a crooked line down the middle of the narrow lane.

“Levana!” I shout, but my voice gets swallowed up by the wind.

I push forward, shoulders hunched against the cold, my breath streaming out in ragged bursts of fog. She’s barefoot in nothing but a t-shirt and sweats. She’s going to fucking freeze to death out here.

“Levana!” I shout again, louder this time. “Please, for the love of God, stop!”

I can see her now. She isn’t stopping. She’s running like her life depends on it—arms pumping, legs kicking up sprays of snow with every frantic step. I push harder, boots sliding, lungs burning.

Just catch her. Just get her back inside.

I surge forward, closing the gap. My fingers brush the back of her shirt, and I grab, hard, yanking her back toward me.

“No!” she shrieks, thrashing against me. “No! Let go of me!”

“Stop it!” I snap, dragging her closer. “Just stop!”

Raw, breathless gasps tear from her chest as she fights me like hell.

“Let me go!” she screams. “Get off me! Get off me!”

“Baby, please!” My voice cracks, desperate. “Please just stop. Just breathe—”

But she won’t. She won’t. She’s still fighting—arms flailing, legs kicking, fists hammering against my chest like she’d rather freeze to death than let me bring her back inside.

I don’t have a choice. I yank her harder. She stumbles, feet sliding in the snow, and before she can twist free, I hook one arm low around her hips and the other across her shoulders.

“No! No, no, no!” she screams, writhing in my hold. Her feet barely touch the ground as I haul her back toward the house. “How could you do this, Patrick?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I mutter, breathless as I half-carry, half-drag her through the snow. “I love you, Levana. I love you so fucking much. Please, please don’t fight me.”

“Let me go,” she cries again, weaker this time. “I’m begging you, just let me go!”

I manage to get her over the threshold, slamming the door shut with my foot. She jerks hard, trying to twist free, but I’m stronger.

I fumble with the lock, managing to turn the key just before her elbow jabs into my ribs. Pain flares sharp and bright, but I don’t let go. I can’t.

I tighten my grip and haul her toward the stairs. She’s still thrashing and twisting like a wild animal. Her heel catches on my shin, hard enough to bruise, and I hiss through my teeth.

Then, ann ear-splitting, gut-wrenching scream rips straight out of her chest, full of something ancient and feral. It splits the air like lightning, making my ears ring, and I stumble back, disoriented for a second.

Mara’s voice slices through it from upstairs. “Will you shut her up?!”

“I’m trying !”

I finally get her upstairs and head straight for the back room, stumbling and breathless.

“Why?” she gasps out between sobs. “Why… why… why…”

“Shut the damn door,” Mara snaps, standing stiff in the doorway.

I do—kicking it shut with my foot before guiding Levana to the chair on the opposite side of the room. She collapses into it, curling forward, pressing her hands to her face like she’s trying to fold in on herself.

I drop to my knees in front of her, reaching out to steady her shoulders.

“Hey,” I say as gently as I can. “Hey… breathe. Just breathe for me, baby. Come on…”

She shakes her head like if she ignores me hard enough, I’ll just disappear.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Will you let me explain?”

I reach up slowly, curling my fingers over hers, trying to ease her hands away from her face. She’s still trembling, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Look at me,” I say. “Please.”

She finally lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine—wide, red-rimmed, pupils blown. She looks wrecked. Devastated.

I can’t fucking believe I’ve hurt her like this.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to look at me like I’ve broken her. She was supposed to look at me like I’ve fixed her.

“Baby,” I start, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want it to be like this, I swear.”

Her face crumples again, and she lets out a weak sob.

“I know. I know I messed up. But please just let me fix it. Just let me explain, okay?”

She takes a shaky breath and her voice cracks out of her. “Okay, okay,” she swallows hard, eyes flicking between me and Mara. “But, will you please just… step away from me? Give me some room to breathe?”

I nod without hesitation, moving back across the floor immediately, then glance toward Mara. “Can you help me here?”

“No,” she snorts. “This is all yours.”

“I was going to tell you,” I say to Levana. “I promise, okay? I swear. I just didn’t know how.”

She stares at me like I’m something foul—like she can’t even stand to look at me. Her gaze flicks to my hand, to the dull gold band still circling my finger, then over to Mara’s ring. Her breath hitches, and the way her face scrunches up makes my stomach twist so hard bile coats my tongue.

A sharp, ugly laugh bubbles up from her throat as she wipes at the tears falling onto her cheeks. “You were?”

“I swear,” I say again, my voice cracking. “I was. I promise.”

Behind me, Mara groans, and I know what’s coming before she even moves.

The sting of a slap blooms sharp across the back of my head, making me lurch forward a little.

“She’s not going to listen to you when she’s like this,” she snaps. “You’ve fucked it all up. You absolute idiot.”

“You’re right,” I say quickly, my voice breaking. “I fucked it up. I know I have. I know, I know. I’m sorry, Levana. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. I love you so much. Please…”

Her face is red and blotchy, and her chest’s heaving in jagged, desperate pulls, like she can’t get enough air.

“You’ve done enough,” Mara snaps again. “Just get out, Patrick.”

I whip my head toward her. ‘What?”

“You heard me. Get out. Let me talk to her. You’ve done nothing but make it worse. Just go.”

“No, no—I need to—“

“You need to leave,” Mara cuts me off. “Shit, Patrick, look at her! Just get out and let me fix this damn mess.”

“I can’t leave her,” I stammer, looking back at Levana. “I need her to understand.”

“Yeah?” Mara’s voice is hard now. “Well, you had your chance, and you ruined it. So now you’re gonna go downstairs, sit your sorry ass down, and wait. Got it?”

I glance at Levana again—still crying, still shaking, still not looking at me.

Mara’s right. She’ll be able to fix this. I’ve fucked up, so damn bad.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” She says, already crossing to Levana’s side. “Now go. And lock the damn door so she doesn’t run again.”

I hesitate. Just for a second. Just long enough for Levana’s head to snap up, her eyes wide and glassy with tears.

“No,” she chokes out, scrambling up off the chair. “No, no, no.”

“Levana,” Mara cuts in, her voice softer now. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Just sit down. Please.”

“Patrick,” Levana gasps, her voice breaking. “Patrick, please don’t—”

“Go. Now, Patrick,” Mara says.

I step back, heart hammering in my chest.

“I love you,” I say quietly. “I love you, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go.”

I close the door and lean back against it as the lock clicks.

A second later, there’s a thump against the wood, like she’s throwing her whole body against it.

“No!” Levana shouts. “Patrick, please! Don’t do this! Please!”

Her fists hammer against the door, her sobs broken and raw, and it feels like each one’s tearing through me from the inside out.

I press my forehead against the wood, breathing hard.

“I love you,” I whisper again, barely loud enough to hear myself. “I love you so fucking much.”

From inside the room, Mara’s voice rises, trying to soothe her. Trying to calm her down.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

We have to fix this.

We have to make her understand.

We have to.