“Stalker?”
“You’re a six foot, four inch mountain of a man, Nathan. In a police cruiser. Kind of hard to miss.”
And here he’d thought he’d been so stealthy.
Stella smirked. “Not to mention all of the trespassing you’ve engaged in to cut my grass, check my oil, and replace all of my outdoor light bulbs.”
“I never said I didn’t care about you, Stella. Because I do. And I always will. Just because the circumstances are such that we are no longer in a relationship, that doesn’t mean I don’t still worry about you and want to make sure you’re okay.” Nathan swallowed hard and nodded toward her belly. “And that the baby is okay.”
“I want to ask you one question, Nathan, okay? And please answer me honestly, okay? Please. Will you do that for me?” When Nathan reluctantly nodded once, she whispered, “Do you love me?”
Before he could formulate a lie or weigh his options or craft a sly, avoidant reply, Nathan answered honestly.
“Yes. More than I ever thought possible.”
“Then why?” Stella cried out; the anguish in her voice nearly bringing him to his knees. “If I love you and you love me and we both love our baby, then why are we doing this? Why have we wasted three months playing this god-forsaken game, Nathan?”
“You know why.”
Stella threw her hands into the air. “No! I don’t!”
“I assume you read my first letter?”
“The one where you said ‘sorry’ for asking me to get an abortion and then reminded me to take my folic acid? Yeah, I read it. But I still have no idea why you’re ruining both of our lives for no reason!”
“There are reasons and you know them. I’m not going to waste time repeating them. It’s unfortunate things turned out this way, but now we have to cut our losses and move on.”
Stella’s dark, damp eyes widened. “Cut our losses? Move on? Oh, my God, Nathan…” She shook her head slowly, a weird smile suddenly tugging at the corners of her lips. “You are so much worse off than I thought, you darling, delusion man. If you think you’re going to walk away from me and this baby and ever be able to go on like nothing happened…if you think you’re not falling to pieces and that, one day, you’re not going to wake up and hate yourself for all of this…” Stella reared back, her head still shaking in disbelief. “You don’t know yourself at all, do you?”
“No, you don’t know me,” Nathan snapped.
“Oh, I know you. I know you inside and out and backwards and forwards. I see you more clearly than you’ll ever see yourself.” She searched his face. “But I don’t know how to get through to you. And I can’t make you fight. Not if you aren’t willing to be honest with yourself.”
Stella pulled her sweater tighter around her body. “You know, I’ve spent the last three months sitting by the window, waiting for you to show up and tell me you’d come to your senses. I jumped every time my phone rang. My heart raced every time I saw a police officer walk into the ER. Because I figured, there’s no way this guy isn’t going to get it eventually. He won’t be able to live without me and he’ll come back and we’ll live happily ever after.” Stella shook her head. “But you’d rather waste away – alone and miserable – than face anything. Than fight – for me, for the baby, but especially for yourself.
Because you think you don’t deserve it: the love, the happiness, the family. That’s why you throw out the abuse and rage excuses…because those seem like convenient, logical excuses for staying lonely and in pain. Yeah, I’m sure on some level you’re afraid of repeating the abuse cycle, but you should know yourself better than that, Nathan. You should recognize how strong you are – how gentle and sweet and loving. How you’ve spent your life defending people against the precise thing you think you are: an abusive monster. Which is something you will never be, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise.
But nothing I do or say will ever get through. No amount of telling you, showing you, and loving you unconditionally will change your mind.” Her next words were strangled by a sob. “I never realized it before this moment. I thought my love was powerful enough to save you – that your love for me would give you reason enough to fight. So narcissistic, but true. But I see now this has very little to do with how much I love you and how very badly I want to save you. It’s all on you. You would have to want it badly enough to drop the bullshit and see the truth. You’d have to love yourself enough to fight for your own happiness. And I see now that could never happen.”
Stella exhaled a long breath. “I don’t really blame you, because how could I? I didn’t endure your childhood or your tours overseas, so I have no right to tell you what is worth fighting for. What is worth facing your demons for. Maybe nothing is worth trudging through that kind of pain. Maybe living without us hurts less than figuring out how to forgive yourself.”
After another quick swipe at her eyes, she gestured to the plastic container she’d set on his end table. “Anyway, I brought you some mostacchioli. I need you to eat something, Nathan. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t promise to eat at least a few bites. Can you promise me that?”
Nathan nodded. Dumbly. Dazedly.
“Good.” Stella gestured toward his scabbed hands. “And I’m going to need to take a look at those before I leave.” When Nathan opened his mouth to protest, she put up a hand. “Please just shut up and let me do it this one time, okay? So that I can make sure you don’t have a raging infection at least. So I can sleep without worrying that you’re going septic, okay?”
Nathan wanted to be closer to her – to feel her hands on him so badly – that he nodded. Knowing it would be horribly painful and he’d regret allowing it the minute she let go.
Stella stepped closer and Nathan’s body responded, fast and fierce.
God, it felt so incredible to be this close to her again. And her scent had his body primed and ready to go in three seconds flat.
Nathan stared down at the top of her head as she gently grabbed his hands and turned them palms up.
“Oh, Nathan,” she murmured as she assessed the extensive damage. She ran a fingertip over the torn skin and he shuddered in response. Stella looked up into his eyes.
And Nathan fucking drowned.
“I can’t stand the thought of you doing this to yourself,” she whispered, eyes still latched onto his. Stella lowered her head and brought his palm up to her lips.
She pressed excruciating, exhilarating soft kisses to his palm before holding it against her cheek. “Please stop hurting yourself, Nathan. Please. It is killing me. Can you please stop? For me?”
His voice came out strangled and hoarse. “I’ve tried, I can’t. I’ve done it for so long I don’t know how not to do it.”
Stella met his eyes again. “You seemed better about it while we were together.”
Nathan shrugged and, after a few minutes of silence, she finally exhaled a resigned sigh and dropped his hand. “Please get me a washcloth, some antibacterial ointment, and some Ace bandages.”
Nathan gathered the supplies and sank down next to her on the couch.
As he watched her work, Nathan soaked up her every movement, facial expression, and word; storing them away for the future. He studied her freckles and her long lashes and the way she bit her lower lip as she meticulously applied the Neosporin.
Nathan’s eyes traveled down to the soft, smooth skin of her neck, over her breast, until his gaze rested on the slight rounding of her belly.
“Can I touch it?” he asked before knowing he was going to.
Stella looked up, brows furrowed. “Touch what?”
“Your stomach.”
Stella’s eyes welled. “Of course,” she said softly, already pushing aside the folds of her sweater.
When Nathan didn’t move, Stella grabbed the hand she hadn’t worked on and placed it palm down on her belly.
It felt differently than Nathan had expected. It was very firm and smooth. He moved his hand around a li
ttle.
“I felt her move for the first time this week,” Stella said with a small smile. “I can barely feel it – it almost feels like the flapping of a butterfly’s wings. But she’s definitely bouncing around in there.”
Nathan looked down at his hand resting on Stella’s belly. “Do you think maybe I could hold her? One time. After she comes out.” Nathan knew he was about to cry, but he didn’t give a fuck. “Would that be okay?”
“She’s your baby,” Stella whispered, the tears streaming down her face and splashing onto the back of Nathan’s hand. “Of course that would be okay. You can hold her as much as you’d like. You’re her father.”
Father.
That word triggered something deep within Nathan and suddenly he couldn’t do this a second longer.
“I need to follow you home now,” he choked out, already standing.
“But your other hand…”
“It’s fine.” Nathan gently pulled her up off the couch and ushered her out the front door.
Stella got into her car and Nathan got into his. He followed her around the block, pulling into her driveway behind her. When Stella got out of her car and turned to face him expectantly, he rolled down the window.
“Take care of yourself, Stella. And the baby.”
A dozen different emotions crossed her face in the span of a few seconds.
She wanted to scrap, he knew that. Because Stella was a fighter: tough and stubborn and tenacious. Stella wanted to badger, question, and dig in until this was fixed. Because she sincerely thought Nathan was worth fixing; thought he was capable of being fixed. And he loved her for it. All of it.
But in that moment, she seemed to finally realize she was never going to win this particular fight. Because there wasn’t a fight to win. You needed to two people to tango and Nathan had thrown in the towel a long time ago.
“You take care too, Nathan,” she said softly. “If you ever change your mind, we’ll be here waiting for you.”
Nathan managed a nod and Stella walked up the porch steps. She dug out her keys, opened her door, but didn’t walk in.
She turned suddenly and walked back down to Nathan’s open window, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to do this, Nathan. I don’t know how to give up on you.”
Nathan swallowed down the fist in his throat. “You’re not giving up on me, sweetheart. You’re letting me go. So that you and the baby can have a fighting chance a good, peaceful, safe life.”
Stella stomped her foot. “But I don’t want to let you go! And the only way the baby and I are going to have a good, peaceful, safe life is if you’re with us!”
Who was the darling, delusional one now?
“Go inside, Stella. Please.”
Before I lose my resolve. Or my mind. Or both.
“I love you, Nathan.”
He cleared his throat. “I love you too, Stella. Now go inside.”
She finally did; making her way up the stairs, through the door, and inside. Stella shut the door behind her and Nathan waited until he heard all three locks turn before he left.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nathan stared at the short list of names and numbers he’d complied. He felt like an asshole even though there was no one else there to see this tangible display of weakness.
He had no idea what the difference between a psychiatrist, psychologist, or licensed counselor was, so he’d written down one of each They were all men, all local, and all supposedly specialists in PTSD.
Which Nathan hadn’t thought he had until he’d Googled the symptoms at 4 in the morning.
Flashbacks, upsetting dreams, avoidance, feeling emotionally numb, difficulty getting close to people and maintaining relationships, anger, guilt, shame, and insomnia. Oh, yeah, and self-destructive behaviors.
Nathan was surprised there wasn’t a picture of his face next to the Mayo Clinic’s description. He could be the fucking poster boy.
And he could apply those symptoms to his childhood and his time over in Afghanistan. They were two distinctly different times in his life that were causing different kinds of issues, but Nathan was experiencing what he now conceded could be PTSD-caused reactions regarding both of them.
So, Stella had been right all along, damn it.
He’d left her house last night, driven home, and gone straight to the basement. But he hadn’t been able to hurt himself. The memory of Stella’s expression and the way she’d kissed his hands…it would have been a slap in the face to her. So, he’d run on the treadmill for two hours instead. Afterwards, he’d gone upstairs and paced for about two hours before hopping online. He’d typed “PTSD” into the search bar and forced himself to read a lot of shit he hadn’t wanted to.
Nathan had read a very small amount of material on cognitive behavioral therapy as a treatment for PTSD and started looking up people who might be able to provide that. Not because he thought it would work or because he thought he was worth fixing, but because he owed it to Stella and the baby to at least try.
When Nathan inevitably failed and remained the ticking time bomb he knew he was, at least he could tell Stella he’d tried. That he’d loved her and the baby enough to face his demons, even thought he knew, ultimately, the demons would always win.
He’d slept for a few hours before getting up and getting ready for his shift. It was Wednesday night and Stella always worked Wednesdays, so Nathan would swing by the hospital around 11:15 and watch her walk to her car. Now that he knew that she knew he was lurking around, maybe he’d even say “hi.” And follow her home to make sure she got in okay.
Nathan was every inch the stalker Stella had accused him of being. But he was oddly unremorseful about his borderline illegal behavior. Mostly because he knew Stella didn’t mind. In fact, knowing her, she probably thought he was acting all romantic and chivalrous and shit.
Nathan and Danny made it till about 8 o’clock without getting any crazy calls. But at 8, they got a domestic disturbance centered around, of all things, a cat. These two people had been screaming and swinging and belligerent because they’d broken up, but both wanted “custody” of the cat. Who had spent the entire time Nathan and Danny were there looking as aggravated as Nathan had felt. After getting both of them to agree to some 50/50 schedule Danny had pulled out of his ass, the guy had left.
Nathan and Danny piled back into their cruiser.
Nathan turned over the ignition. “I still can’t believe you got those two maniacs to sign that. I was about haul both of their asses to jail just to give that poor cat some peace and quiet.”
Danny laughed. “Anyone who swings on their ex over a cat is probably ridiculous enough to sign a “custody agreement” on the back of a Subway receipt, right?” After Nathan grunted a reply, Danny cleared his throat. “So are we gonna talk about what happened last night?”
Damn.
“No need. I was having a rough one and got nasty with you. Sorry about that,” Nathan said, his gaze straight forward.
“So you don’t think I’m fucking Stella?”
“No.” After a second, Nathan turned to him, eyes narrowed. “Why, you thinking about it?”
Danny barked out a laugh. “No, D, I’m not thinking about it.” He shot Nathan a sideways look. “Much.”
“Danny…”
“Kidding, kidding,” Danny said, grinning. “So, did you go to her house or did she come to yours last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you didn’t strangle me with your bare hands or shove your Glock in my face when you saw me today, so I’m pretty sure you guys got together last night after I left. She’s the only one who can get you to chill the fuck out when you get all crazy.”
Nathan grunted.
“So, let me guess, she went over to your place?” When Nathan nodded, Danny shook his head. “That little sneak. She promised me she’d stay put.”
“Yeah, well, that particular woman is notorious for her impulsiveness and poor decision making.
”
“So did you guys work everything out?” Danny’s hopeful tone had Nathan feeling guilty about how shitty he’d been to him lately.
“Not exactly.”
“Meaning what? That you’ve decided to miss another three months of her pregnancy – sitting alone at your house pining for a woman who wants nothing more than to love you unconditionally forever? Who you already know you’re going to end up with eventually despite being a stubborn, stupid asshole?”
God, Danny had an annoying flair for the dramatic.
Although he was spot on.
“Something like that.”
Nathan turned left onto a thoroughfare. “I looked up PTSD last night.”
He could see Danny’s wide-eyed expression out of the corner of his eye. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Nathan shrugged. “Could explain some stuff with me.”
“Ya think?” He ignored Nathan’s dirty look. “So what made you do that?”
That wasn’t a difficult question to respond to, but the answer was intimate and personal and involved Nathan admitting he’d been…well, a stubborn, stupid asshole.
Nathan shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try and figure some stuff out, right? I don’t think it’s going to make any difference, but there’s no harm in trying.”
“I think…wow…that’s phenomenal, Nathan. Seriously.” Danny clapped a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, man. I know saying that is going to get you all uncomfortable and pissed off, but I have to, D.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Nathan said. “It’ll probably go nowhere fast, but at least it’ll get Stella off my back. For a while.”
“So you guys are back together then?”
“No.”
“Then why do you care about keeping her off your back? Since you’re not together?”
Danny was pushing his luck and he knew it. When Nathan shot him a warning glance, Danny lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ll let it go.” But then a second later, he asked, “When do you think you’ll see her again?”
All of Me Page 26