by Street, K.
Her warm, wet pussy was a vise gripping my shaft, and my own release ripped through me on a roar.
The sounds of our breaths filled the room, and when I finally pulled out, Macy collapsed onto the bed.
“That was amazing.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
I doubted she would tell me even if I had.
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
I shifted off the bed and went into the bathroom to clean up.
Macy’s eyes were fixed on me as I walked back into the bedroom.
I slipped on a pair of basketball shorts and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You okay?” I asked her.
“I think so.” She pulled the sheet around her and moved closer. “Are you okay?”
No.
Yes?
Hell if I know.
“It’s a lot, Mace.” I angled my body toward her.
“I know. We’ll get through this, Nash. You’ll see.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because this isn’t over. Because, when you love someone, you fight for them. You storm the gates of hell to slay their demons.”
Her words hung in the air.
“Is that your plan, Mace? To fight for me? You’re going to storm the gates of hell for me?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
She loved me, and I loved her, but I didn’t know if love alone would be enough.
“I’m going to grab something to drink. Do you want anything?”
“Whatever you get is fine,” she said.
I got up and went into the kitchen. My head was all over the fucking place, and I got lost in my thoughts while I stared out the window. I had no idea how much time had passed when I felt arms snake around me from behind.
“I borrowed a T-shirt. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Several long minutes crept by before either of us spoke again.
Macy’s cheek rested between my shoulder blades, and she hugged me tighter as though she were keeping me in place.
“He was born on a Monday. A little more than a week before Thanksgiving.”
Her warm breath ghosted over my skin, and the air in my lungs became trapped while I waited for her to continue.
“When I had gone to the clinic the day before … after I found out he was gone … they had told me what to expect. They’d told me I would be induced and about the different medicines I would be given and what would happen after.”
Every syllable that fell from her lips was a knife plunging into my gut.
“Nobody warned me about the quiet. I knew he wouldn’t cry. Of course, I knew that. But I wasn’t p-prepared f-for it.” Her voice cracked. “The silence … it was so fucking loud.”
I turned and pulled her into my arms. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Her tears soaked my chest.
“They cleaned him up and wrapped him in a blanket. And, when they put him in my arms … my God, Nash, he looked so much like you.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I tried like hell to swallow past it. I hadn’t been there for her then. This was my chance to make it up to her, but I was dying on the inside.
I kissed the top of Macy’s head and spoke against her hair, “He looked like me?” The words nearly split me in two.
She pulled back and nodded. “So much.”
I clasped her hand and led her into the living room. We sat down, and when she looked at me, fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks.
“I want to show you something.”
She got up, walked over by the door, and returned with a small photo album, which she held out to me.
I hesitated, not certain I was ready.
“It’s okay, Nash.” She snuggled into my side and opened the book.
Lucas was swaddled in a blue blanket with the smallest hat I’d ever seen covering his head.
Tears filled my eyes as I ran my finger over his tiny face. Searing pain singed every cell in my body.
The battle to stave off the tears was lost, and wetness spilled down my cheeks. “You’re right. He looked just like me.” My words were barely above a whisper.
Macy took the album from my hand, set it aside, and crawled into my lap. Her arms went around my neck, and I crushed her against me and clung to her like a fortress.
Whispered apologies fell from both our lips. And, for the first time, we grieved our son together.
33
Macy
It seemed like hours had elapsed as we sat on his sofa, clinging to each other while drowning in mutual sorrow.
Eventually, Nash angled our bodies, so his back was against the arm of the couch, and I was tucked between his legs, my back to his chest. He reached for the throw blanket and covered us with it.
For a long time, neither one of us said anything.
“It all makes sense now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“That first year … you never came home for Thanksgiving or Christmas.”
“Before I came home for Thanksgiving, I planned to call you to tell you about the baby. I wanted us to have a chance to talk first. Then, I figured we would go talk to my parents. When there wasn’t anything to talk about … coming home was more than I could handle.”
“That’s why you never told me, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Telling you seemed pointless. It would have only caused you pain, and I was having a hard enough time dealing with everything.” I tipped my head to look at him. “Had he lived, there’s no way I would have ever kept him from you.”
I laced my fingers with his and crossed our arms over my stomach.
“We would have been a family, Bee. Not just because it would have been the right thing, but also because I loved you.”
“I know.” I snuggled deeper into him. “As time went on, I felt guilty because I had this awful secret. That’s why I tried to keep some sort of distance between us, and the more I was around you, the more it felt like betrayal. I didn’t want to hurt you but not telling you wasn’t an option either. Not when things started happening between us. I never meant for you to find out the way you did.”
“That weekend you stayed with me, you tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t let you.”
“I could’ve made you listen, but I was a coward, and you unknowingly offered me a reprieve.”
“Don’t ever say that.” He kissed the top of my head.
“Say what?”
“You’re not a coward. Not by a long shot. You’re one of the strongest, most stubborn people I’ve ever known.”
“Thank you for saying that. The weekend I stayed with you …”
“Yeah?”
“I had a horrible nightmare.”
“I remember. You wouldn’t talk about it. Was it about Lucas?” His voice was gentle, lacking any hint of accusation.
“Sort of.”
I told him about my awful dream and the empty cribs.
“Bee … I wish you had talked to me.”
“I know. I should’ve told you.”
Quiet fell between us.
After a bit, Nash spoke, “Can I ask you something?” He stroked the pad of his thumb over my knuckles.
“Of course.”
“What happened?”
That was the million-dollar question and the root of the fears I had yet to voice.
“Intrauterine fetal demise—that’s what it’s called.”
“Do they know why? Will it happen again?”
“Sometimes, doctors can pinpoint the reasons, but often, they can’t. I’ve been assured by more than one doctor that the reoccurrence rate is extremely low. Medically speaking, what happened with Lucas was unexplained. But there are no guarantees. The thought of making it that far and losing another baby … I don’t know if I could survive it again.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I can’t go through that again.”
“I should’ve been there for you.” H
is voice was so full of regret; it nearly stole my breath.
“Don’t do that.”
“It’s the truth. You were alone, and that’s my fault.”
My entire body tensed. I unclasped our hands and moved, so I was facing him while I straddled his lap. The position was a little awkward, but the next words that came out of my mouth were ones I needed him to hear.
With my palms on either side of his face and my eyes trained on his, I gave him the truth. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“If I hadn’t—”
“No.” I placed a finger over his lips to silence him. “It wasn’t your fault, Nash. Not any of it. The whole Becca thing, as messed up as it was … you thought you were doing what was best for me. I spent a lot of years blaming myself and blaming you, but losing Lucas wasn’t anyone’s fault. It would have occurred, no matter what.”
His lips moved, but I just shook my head.
“When something terrible happens, people search for an explanation. It’s human nature. We need to justify it, to make sense of tragedy. We need someone or something to blame when the truth is, sometimes, horrible things just happen. There is no rhyme or reason.”
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his in a lingering kiss. “It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered against his mouth. Then, I pulled back to look at him and drove my point home. “It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.”
He gripped my face between his palms. “It wasn’t yours either.” He kissed me, slow and deep, tangling his tongue with mine.
With our foreheads pressed together and his lips a hairbreadth from mine, he murmured, “Bee?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“I love you.”
My heart swelled. “I love you, too.”
He gripped my thighs and lifted me, so he could put his feet on the floor. Then, he adjusted me on his lap, bringing our bodies closer. His thickening cock rested against my center.
“Marry me.”
I laughed. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated.
“You’re crazy.”
“About you.”
Our lips met in another kiss. This one more heated and desperate. I moaned into his mouth and rocked against him.
Nash rose to his feet.
My legs were tightly wound around him as he carried me back into his bedroom and laid me on the bed.
He took off his shorts and then stripped me out of my shirt.
A gorgeous smile shone on his face as he noticed my choice of undergarment.
“You’re so damn adorable, you know that?”
I had on a pair of his boxers, which I’d had to roll down three times just to keep them on my hips.
Nash glided them off my legs and tossed them onto the floor.
He reached into the nightstand, but my words stopped him.
“I’m on birth control. I’ve been on the shot for a few years.”
I had hidden the truth from him before. Now, all the secrets were out in the open, and I didn’t want any barriers between us.
“Yeah?”
By the look on his face, I knew he wasn’t asking for confirmation about the birth control.
“Yes.”
He dipped his finger inside me, and I moaned at the contact.
“You’re soaked.”
“I want you.”
“You have me.”
Nash hovered over me, guided his cock to my entrance, and slowly shoved inside, only to stop midway. “Don’t move,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
With our hands clasped together, fingers intertwined, he pushed all the way into me.
His eyes bored into mine. “I love you, Bee. I’ll do my damnedest to never hurt you again. I swear.”
“I love you, too.”
I circled his hips with my legs as he began to rock into me.
In the aftermath of a war, on a battlefield of shared brokenness, we began to heal.
* * *
Sunlight peeked through the curtains as I lay awake in Nash’s arms. We were a tangle of limbs, and my body was sore in places I had forgotten. He’d had me over and over again until we both succumbed to exhaustion.
For the first time in years, I could breathe. I was right where I belonged.
“You awake?” His voice was sexy and gravelly with sleep.
“I am.” I shimmied against him. “Looks like somebody else is awake, too.”
“Keep rubbing your ass against me and see what happens.”
“Is that a threat?”
His thick cock slipped between my cheeks as he moved my hair off my neck and lowered his lips to my ear. “It’s a fucking promise,” he whispered.
34
Macy
My head rested on Nash’s chest as he held me in his arms. We had spent most of the morning in bed, making up for lost time and then some.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Better than okay.”
“Me, too.” He tightened his hold.
My stomach growled, and his warm laughter filled the room.
“Hungry?”
I skated my fingertips through the smattering of chest hair, across the hardened plane of his abs, and back again. “A little bit.”
“I can see what I have in the kitchen, or we could go out for breakfast.”
“How about you go take a shower while I forage for food?” I suggested.
The desire to stay cocooned in the safety of our bubble a little longer was strong.
A lascivious smirk played on his lips. “Or we could shower together.”
My muscles were sore, and my body ached a little too much for me to take him up on his offer. “As enticing as that sounds, I’m going to take a rain check.”
“What if I promise to keep my hands to myself?” Nash rolled over and planted a chaste kiss on my mouth.
I laughed. “You’re incorrigible. And I’m starving to death.”
“Rain check it is. Necrophilia isn’t really my thing.”
“Thank goodness.”
He shifted his body from over top of me.
I slid out of bed and threw on a T-shirt and snagged another pair of Nash’s boxers. “Don’t take too long, or I’ll eat without you.”
He flashed a wicked grin. “Go ahead. I’ll just eat you.”
“You’re so crass.”
“But you love me.”
I crossed the floor and turned back to him when I got to the bedroom doorway. “More than you know.”
I didn’t wait for Nash to respond before I headed into the kitchen. I pulled open the fridge and found four eggs, half a bag of sweet peppers, some cheddar cheese, and two slices of leftover cooked bacon. Inside the small pantry, I stumbled upon two potatoes that would work once I scrubbed the little eyes off them and an onion. A plan began to come together in my head.
When Nash came into the kitchen twenty minutes later, breakfast was nearly done.
“It smells delicious.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and dropped a kiss to the spot where my neck and shoulder met as I stood at the stove.
“Thanks. Coffee’s made if you want some.” I turned the fire off under the potatoes and onions. Then, I finished cooking the eggs.
He released his hold and went to the cabinet for a mug. “Want a cup?”
“I already made myself one.” I grabbed a plate for each of us and then heaped them with food before sitting at the table. “Want to grab the forks?”
“Sure.”
The silverware drawer rattled as he tugged it open. With the coffee and utensils in hand, he sat opposite me.
I watched as Nash lifted a forkful of his breakfast into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “It’s really good. I can’t believe you just threw this together.”
I had sautéed a few sweet peppers, tossed in the crumbled bacon, poured in the beaten eggs, and topped the mess with cheese. It wouldn’t land me a spot on the Food Network, but it was ta
sty.
“Thanks.”
A comfortable kind of quiet filled the air as we ate.
After a few minutes, Nash spoke, “I wasn’t kidding, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow in question. “About what?”
“When I told you to marry me.”
My fork stopped midair. “Nash, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I want to marry you.”
My fork clanked as I set it on the edge of my plate. “I’m confused. Are you proposing? Because I have to tell you, your delivery needs some work.”
He grinned. “Right this second? No.”
I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or disappointed. I picked up my fork, speared a few home fries, and popped them into my mouth.
Nash expectantly watched me, gauging my reaction. “Mace … say something.”
I swallowed hard and placed my utensil on the table. My eyes remained downcast because I was too afraid to look at him when I asked the question, “What about kids?”
I had to know where he stood. When I’d told Nash I didn’t know if I could survive another loss, I’d meant it. I was terrified of the unknown.
“What about them?”
“Do you want them? Because I’m not sure I do, and if that’s a deal-breaker for you, then—”
“Bee,” he cut me off. His chair scraped against the floor as he shoved it back. He knelt in front of me and took my hands in his. “I love you.”
Sometimes, love isn’t enough.
“I know, but—”
“Listen to me. I love you. More than anything in this world. Of course, I want to have babies with you, and just because we lost Lucas doesn’t mean it will happen again. I know you’re scared, and when the time comes, if you decide that you can’t do it, there are other ways for us to be a family. We can foster or adopt. Or, if you don’t want kids at all, that’s okay, too.”
I stared into his green eyes so full of love and compassion and tried to make him understand. “You say that now, but—”
“There are no buts. I want you. We don’t need kids to be a family. We’ll get a couple of dogs.”