He rolled his shoulders as he popped the trunk. This was one of those situations that he wished there was a handbook for. A manual. A policy. Something. Anything to give him an idea of how to proceed. He was good at following instructions.
As it was he felt like he was rolling up to a roadblock on a bicycle in his boxer shorts.
What did she need him to do? What should he do?
A gentle hand pressed against his back. Everything stilled and refocused on her.
“Everything’s going to be okay, David. Promise.”
“You can’t make promises like that. Kids aren’t--they don’t--” He couldn’t say it. He could barely get a breath into his lungs. His throat burned.
Dropping his head, he closed his eyes and fought the tears.
He’d thought he’d cried enough over Samuel’s death. Shouldn’t he be out of tears by now?
But when he closed his eyes he saw his sweet little boy, holding out his favorite teddy bear, offering it in hopes that David would feel better. His little boy had been the sweetest, most pure soul he’d ever known. Always making sure that David had a stuffed animal to cuddle with, always trying to make David smile.
“Kids aren’t what?”
He shook his head and hoisted their bags. “Let’s get inside.” It was a good twenty degrees colder here than in Miami and she wasn’t wearing her coat.
She nodded and reached for her purse. He tossed his bag into the back seat of his truck before following her inside.
Mute and full of thoughts, he kept coming back to one. Losing Samuel had been the hardest thing he’d ever been through.
Harder than having his best friend disappear from his life, harder than Vanessa taking her own life, and far harder than his worst day in the SEALs.
“Thanks for seeing me home.” Her voice was quiet, and he hated the uncertainty he’d put there. The panic rising inside him kept him from easing her mind.
How could he comfort her when he felt like the walls were closing in on him? Like he might literally suffocate at any second.
“No problem.”
He stood back as she opened her door. A small lamp in her living room provided a welcoming glow in the fading light. The witching hour they called it, where everything was magical.
Except, magic had failed him. The miracle that was creation and child birth had not lasted.
“Do you want to come inside? I’ll make us a cup of coffee.” As if thinking better of it, she amended, “Actually, I feel like a cup of chamomile tea.”
She rolled the upright suitcase into her foyer and turned back to glance up at him. Her eyes met his, concern etching her features. He knew she was trying to help, to figure out what was going on, but he could hardly breathe.
“David, talk to me.” The pleading in her voice destroyed something inside him. She should never have to beg or plead. She should have a man who was thrilled about taking the next step with her, whatever it may be.
She needed someone who didn’t carry around scars the size of Kansas, who could support her, and wouldn’t be waiting for disaster every moment.
“I--” He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay. They’d figure this out together. But every time he looked at her, he saw Samuel. “I can’t right now.”
The words were out before he knew what he was saying. He took a step back, feeling the overwhelming urge to run. So many emotions hit him one after another.
“Okay.”
Her simple, agreeable answer stopped the spinning.
“I’ve got some things to work out in my head.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
How was it she was saying and doing all the right things and he felt like he was falling apart? He was the one who’d been down this road before.
He cupped her cheek and lifted her face. “We’ll figure this out.”
She nodded and a hint of a smile curved her lips.
“I’ll take the test and let you know.” She stepped inside and reached for the door handle.
He could stop this. He could tell her everything. He could tell her about heartbreak. He should tell her. But telling her would hurt them both.
When she closed the door, locking him out, he sucked in a ragged breath. Then another. It’s what he’d wanted. Space. Time. Air.
But he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to breathe normally ever again if that test came back positive.
19
For as long as she lived, Sabrina would never forget the look on David’s face as she closed the door. His eyes were pleading. There was a trace of guilt, but so much rawness. Anxiety, apprehension and not a single flair of excitement.
He’d needed something, time he’d said. But as the door had started to swing, there was a desperation in his eyes that would forever be etched in her mind.
She had no idea how to fix it. If he wouldn’t be forthright, how could she solve the problem? And was it her problem to solve?
She wasn’t overjoyed about the discovery herself and she realized now that everything had hinged on how he’d reacted.
Moving into the kitchen, she pulled out her favorite tea bags and put the kettle on. Somehow, she knew a cozy cup of chamomile wouldn’t make her feel better, but she had to try.
But how could she feel better when the man she’d fallen in love with had turned into stone right before her eyes. How did she fix the emptiness? The hollowness? And what was she going to do if she was pregnant?
She didn’t know the first thing about raising a baby. Surely there were classes she could take. And books. She’d read all the books.
Carrying her tea into the living room, she sank onto the sofa and pulled a throw blanket around her. With the mug between her hands, she stared out at the darkness. David’s words ran through her mind on repeat.
Things
