Page 14 of Carver (Satan’s Angels MC #8)

Bronte

I ’m so afraid that this is it. It’s all over. That I’ve finally found the thing that shatters Dominic. Breaking down barriers is one thing, but I don’t want to layer up the lacerations, slipping a knife of betrayal so deep into his flesh that he bleeds out.

It’s all there. Wounded pride, shock, hurt, disbelief.

He doesn’t eject me out of his arms or force distance between us.

I’m still in his arms. His calloused hand moves down my arm, the rough skin rasping against mine.

They’re rough from sculpting, and so wondrously familiar.

The second I crawled into his arms, it was a homecoming and an awakening, but the serenity is marred by the truth I’ve just dropped.

“How?” Dominic struggles to get even that much out.

I have to figure out a way to quantify this. I can give facts, but how can I explain myself in a way that doesn’t make me sound like nightmare fodder, or at the very least, insensitive beyond comprehension?

“We were always careful. I was really stressed. I wasn’t eating much or sleeping properly.

I wasn’t thinking about myself, so I missed those signs, but there was nothing else.

Nothing. No sickness. No soreness. I thought I was tired from not sleeping.

Nothing else existed apart from you in hospital and me wondering if you’d ever come out of the dark place you’d entered.

I didn’t know until I felt her move . I was so scared.

As soon as I felt it, I knew then. I went for an ultrasound, and I wasn’t wrong. I was four months along.”

“And there was me, utterly useless,” he sneers, but not at me.

I don’t want him to go back to those ghosts. Not when he was just ready to put them all to rest. I don’t want to bury him again. I want this to be the moment we go back to living.

“I wanted to tell you.” I twist around and catch his hand in both of mine, squeezing hard. “I was in agony . Half of me thought that it might be the spark that you needed, but then the other half knew that pregnancy can be risky in some ways. If anything happened, you might not have survived it.”

“And then she was born, and you didn’t know how to tell me?” He’s not abrasive. He’s really just asking.

“Not exactly. It was hard and maybe it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but when she was born I held her, looked at her, and fed her for the first time.

There’s so much of you in her and I’d do anything to protect you both.

I know that people might disagree, but I don’t think that having a child or using a child to fix a relationship isn’t the right thing to do.

I needed to wait for you to find yourself.

I needed to be there, but I knew I couldn’t do it for you.

By then, things weren’t so bleak, but if they had been, I would have told you.

I would have done anything to help you.”

“But you wanted our daughter to be loved on her own merit, for who she is, not as a tool.”

I exhale for so long that my chest starts to cave in around my deflated lungs.

He gets it. He understands. This isn’t a wound or a betrayal or me getting out a shovel to dig him a grave. It’s not another scar, deepest for being put there by someone who was supposed to adore him, shelter him, and love him.

And be honest. Above all, be honest with him.

“I’ve never given you any hope that I’d be a decent father,” he says, shaking his head. “All I mentioned were my doubts.”

The edges of my ribs collapse in on my heart.

“No, Dom. I never thought that you wouldn’t have wanted her.

Ever . That’s not why I stayed silent. I could see how much you were hurting over everything that happened.

I knew a child might be the thing that healed you, but I also knew it might destroy you.

I couldn’t risk the latter, so I wanted to wait until things got better to tell you. But they never did…”

His eyes are so wide, so deep, so blue. He studies me plaintively. I’m still clutching his hand. I brush my fingers over the palm, over his fingertips, caressing the rough edges. “How do you know I’d be any good at this? Being a father? I have no idea how to do it.”

The only example he had was of how to be completely unloved and unwanted.

“You learn. I can show you. My parents can help.” I wrap my hands around his neck, pressing my fingers into the base, underneath his hair.

“You feel that love and that bond. For me, it happened the second I knew she was there inside of me, but when I gave birth and held her for the first time, I would have done anything for her. I have never felt a love like that before. It’s hormonal and biological. ”

“Biological. I… feel that. I do. I want to meet her. I want to hold her. My god, she’d be…”

“Eleven months old.”

“Oh my god.” His hand finds my waist and fists in my pajama bottoms like he’s looking for a handhold even though he’s seated firmly on the bed beneath me.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know that I did the right thing.

” I find the baby hairs at the very base of his skull, then stroke the longer strands.

“I was trying to protect her and protect you. There were times that were so dark, you locked me out. Even during the worst of the past, you didn’t want it to touch me, but you let me share you .

I wanted it to be clear that I wasn’t staying out of pity or obligation.

I was just waiting for you to realize that life was still more than worth living.

You had to do it for you , not for me, and not for her.

I’m not saying this right.” The panic is back, sending inky tendrils through me. “Is that wrong?”

His hand flexes and unfurls before he finds the sliver of skin between my t-shirt and the pajama bottoms and caresses it.

His touch on my bare skin will never be anything other than fuel just waiting for a spark.

“Other people might think it sounds wrong, but I understand. I was just existing. Barely. You knew me. You knew me better than I knew myself. You knew what I needed.”

“I don’t know that I did.” That doubt is an ache that will stay with me forever.

“I’m telling you that you did,” he responds a little sharply, so that I’ll hear him.

“When I dream, I dream of us as a family. I want that so badly that sometimes I felt sick from it. My whole body ached like I have the worst fever.”

It was so hard, when I truly believed that we were meant to be together. It was doubly as hard, trying to hold it all together when our lives were like water, rushing between my fingers.

“I want to meet her,” Dominic states firmly.

I haven’t heard him sound like this. I haven’t seen him look this way.

This is new. The fiery determination taking root and growing with every second, the fight in him, is like accelerant dumped all over the glowing coals of his old fire.

“I want to be a family. I know I’ve been an idiot.

I got stuck in my head. I let all the stupid, unimportant things matter.

What you did was right, Bronte.” I can barely breathe when he looks at me like this, brimming over with brokenness, but with a new light shining through the cracks.

“You needed to wait until I was good and ready to be in her life.” He heaves out a shaky breath.

“I’m just so afraid that I’ll fuck it all up. ”

“No. No!” I have to keep my hands at his neck because if I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll forget myself.

I have to hold him gently. “I love you with every type of love there is. We were friends first, then lovers. We’ve been lovers over time and distance.

Through the worst and while we dreamed together.

I now know the love of being a mother. I’ve learned how to love unconditionally.

I’ve learned patience, and a bone deep fear that comes with being a mom.

I want to love you that way too. As a partner in raising our child.

Sometimes parents get it wrong, but we’re just human.

My family has helped me so much. They’ll always be there for us.

We can be there for her and for each other. That’s the best we can ever do.”

He blinks rapidly. “You always know what to say.”

“I definitely don’t,” I choke. “There are so many times when my feelings can’t be put into words. I have lived with this and truly struggled .”

“I made a child,” he muses in wonder. “We did. You did.”

“I’ve had my family,” I reiterate. There’s absolutely no way that I could ever have done this without them.

I couldn’t have done anything in my life without them.

“I explained everything to them when I found out I was pregnant, and they’ve respected my wishes.

More than that, they’ve adjusted their lives so that other people wouldn’t find out I had a baby.

If you had ever found out from someone other than me, that would have been unforgivable. ”

“I want to go to physical therapy, but other therapy too. I need it. I need to ask for help. Alone. Together. I need your family.” He bows his head, voice breaking.

“Why did I do this to myself? Why did I shut down like this? Why did I listen to all those lies that told me I was unlovable when you’ve proved to me that I’m not? ”