Page 33 of Cinder & Secrets (Ink & Ashes #2)

“What time is it?” The words drag up my throat painfully, like I gargled glass before falling asleep.

“Almost noon.”

“Noon.” I shoot up too quickly and the room spins for a brief moment. “How did I sleep so late?”

“I’m sure your body needed the extra rest.” He shifts in bed seconds before his lips touch the back of my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” I admit, the events of yesterday slamming into me.

As if my body suddenly remembers what my brain is just now revisiting, a horrible cramp twists my stomach, causing me to double over.

“Are you okay?” The worry in River’s voice is so clear he might as well have it tattooed on his forehead.

“Yeah. I just need... I need to use the restroom.” I throw the covers back, not the least bit concerned that I’m naked outside of my panties, which I kept on for obvious reasons.

Shifting, I can feel the overfull pad press against me, and I inwardly cringe.

Without another word, I stand and step softly across the small room before disappearing inside the bathroom. As I expected, the pad is saturated in dark blood, and I remove it as soon as I’m sitting on the toilet.

My stomach twists again, this time the pain more emotional than physical as I lean over, hugging my knees to my chest.

I don’t know why I feel so sad . I mean, I know why , and I know everything I’m feeling is probably completely normal, but I certainly wasn’t prepared to feel it.

I didn’t want a baby.

I wasn’t trying for a baby.

So why do I feel like my whole world just got ripped out from under my feet?

The pain... It’s excruciating. And for the first time since I found out that I miscarried, I actually allow myself to feel it. Let it slide through me, coating my insides. Let it overtake every emotion I have until I’m hunched over on the toilet, silent sobs wrecking my body.

I cry and cry with no end in sight, and then I cry some more.

I let it all out.

The pain of losing River’s child.

The reminder that I’ll never be able to bear one of my own. That I’ll never feel the little kicks in my belly or experience holding my baby for the first time.

The guilt of knowing that I wasn’t ready for this and that despite my grief, there’s also relief. Because no matter how much I want this one day, today is not that day.

And while this thought should be calming, it’s the opposite. It makes me feel that much worse.

“Char,” River calls through the door, followed by the gentle rap of his knuckles against the wood. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah, I just need... a minute.” I try to hide the emotion in my voice, to no avail.

“Is there anything I can do?” The defeat in his tone sends a fresh batch of tears flowing past my lashes.

“No, I’m gonna take a quick shower.” I stand from the toilet and flip on the water before he has a chance to reply.

Stepping under the too-warm water moments later, I wash away the remnants of yesterday. I let the grief pour out of me and then watch it swirl down the drain like water. I scrub my body over and over until my skin is red and raw from the friction. And then I do it all over again.

When I finally exit the shower several minutes later, I feel marginally better. Not back to my normal self but as close as I think I’m going to get for the time being.

Determined not to let River see me like this, I take a few more minutes of solitude, allowing my eyes to dry and some of the puffiness to subside before I finally exit the bathroom.

I find River at the far side of the room. He’s sitting on the windowsill, looking out over the ground below. He turns as soon as he hears me enter, forcing a smile to his lips, though it does nothing to hide the worry in his eyes.

“You okay?” He watches me move farther into the room wearing the T-shirt he had on yesterday.

Considering I didn’t exactly have the chance to pack a bag, the only clothes I have are the ones I came here in.

Luckily, the hospital sent me home with a little care package filled with pads, cleaning wipes, and a disposable toothbrush, which I specifically asked for, and thank goodness I did because brushing my teeth damn near brought me back to life.

“I don’t have any clothes.” I tug at the bottom of his shirt.

“Lyric and Maisie stopped by this morning and brought you a bag.” He gestures toward the small foyer area where I see a small gray duffel bag that I recognize as one of Maisie’s. “They wanted to see you, but I refused to wake you up because I knew how badly you needed to rest.”

“What time were they here?”

“A couple of hours ago.” He shifts so that he’s able to get a better look at me but otherwise remains seated.

“What time are you heading back to North Carolina?” I ask, grabbing the duffel bag from the floor before setting it on top of the bed.

Unzipping it, I pull out a clean pair of underwear, a pair of my favorite lounge pants, and an oversized T-shirt that I oftentimes sleep in. It’s like Maisie knew exactly what to pack that would make me comfortable. God, I love her.

“Not until you’re feeling better.” He watches me pull his shirt over my head before quickly replacing it with the one Maisie packed for me.

“I am... feeling better, I mean.”

“Is that why your eyes are swollen from crying?” He doesn’t miss a thing.

“Sometimes you just need to let it out.” I shrug, avoiding his gaze as I collect my underwear and pants before dipping back inside the bathroom to change. Given that I also have to put a new pad in my clean underwear and dispose of the other, it’s not exactly something I want an audience for.

I return less than a minute later, dressed, and running a brush through the wet tangles of hair hanging down my back.

“Charlotte.”

I glance up to find River slowly crossing the room toward me.

“River,” I say back, not sure what else to say.

“You know it’s okay to not be okay.” He stops about a foot from where I stand.

“I know.” I reach into my bag and pull out a stick of deodorant before tucking it under my shirt and applying it to each of my underarms. “But I also know you have a life you need to get back to and you can’t just stay here and babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you. I’m here because I want to be. This isn’t just happening to you,” he needlessly reminds me, though I doubt he feels on the verge of being swallowed by a black hole of grief like I do.

“I know that.” I huff out a breath.

“So if you need to talk, talk to me. If you need to cry, I’ll hold you while you do it. Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding. But there are some things not even you can fix.”

“I’m not trying to. I just want to be here... with you. Is that really so wrong?”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“Then don’t push me away.”

“I’m not... I wouldn’t...” I can’t finish the sentence because since the moment I opened my eyes to find him watching me, isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing?

“It’s okay if you need time alone. So long as you know that you’re not alone.” He reaches for my hand and I allow him to take it, settling into his arms moments later when he pulls me into his embrace.

“I know.” I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him. “I just don’t want you putting your whole life on hold for me.”

“You are part of that life now, Red.” He pulls back, brushing wet strands of hair over my shoulder before cupping my face. “And we’re in this together.”

“You never wanted any of this... You tried to let me down easy and I wouldn’t take no for an answer. No one would blame you if you decided this was too much.”

“I always wanted this. That’s why I tried to avoid it. Because you, Charlotte O’Malley, scare the ever-loving shit out of me. Something tells me that won’t ever change.”

“I scare you?” I furrow my brow.

“The way I feel about you scares me.”

“The way I feel about you scares me,” I repeat back to him.

“Then I guess we’ll just be scared together.” A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Now tell me how you’re feeling... Really.”

“Sad. Guilty. Relieved,” I say the last word apologetically. “You?”

“All of the above.”

“What do you have to feel guilty for?”

“Seriously?” His eyes sweep over my face. “How about the fact that I disappeared on you for days, no doubt putting unnecessary stress on you. What if that’s what...” He looks away, like he can’t bear to look in my eyes as he says it. “What if it’s my fault?”

“Don’t do that.” I take his face in my hands, pulling him closer. “Don’t take responsibility for something you had no control over. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I went out drinking the night before.”

“You heard the doctor. Drinking didn’t cause this.” He’s quick to disagree.

“And neither did the stress or grief I felt over your absence. My body can’t sustain a pregnancy,” I say as if to remind myself that this is no one’s fault. Not really. “I won’t let you blame yourself for this.”

“And I won’t let you blame yourself, either.”

“It just happened.” I give him a sad smile, accepting that placing blame is a moot point. “It would have happened even if you hadn’t left and even if I hadn’t been drinking.”

“It just happened.” He nods softly.

“I need to know you’re not here because you feel guilty.”

“Of course not.” He pulls me closer, dropping his forehead against mine. “I’m here because I’m so madly in love with you the thought of being anywhere else would be a torture worse than death.”

A light laugh escapes my lips and he pulls back enough to study the reaction.

“I doubt anything is worse than death,” I point out.

“That’s because you don’t know what it’s like to live without you.”

“I could say the same about you.” I curl my fingers into his hair.

“Then let’s make a promise to each other right here and now that we won’t put the other through that ever again.”

“You know we can’t promise that. You don’t know what the future will hold.”

“Maybe not. But I know that I don’t want to live without you.”

“And I don’t want to live without you.”

“So then, let’s not live without each other.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple.” He smiles down at me and for the first time since I woke up, the crushing weight on my chest feels a little less heavy.

“Okay then,” I agree.

“Okay then.” He takes my face in his hands, his mouth finding mine in an instant.

He kisses me slowly, tentatively, like he’s afraid I might shatter.

“I’m not made of glass,” I murmur against his lips. “Now kiss me.”

He smiles against my mouth and then does just that, kisses me until there is nothing left but him and me and the promise of our future together.