Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I sighed. “I wanted to let you sleep. I should’ve known better.”
He kissed my temple. “You should’ve,” he agreed.
Neither of us spoke for a while, letting the storm speak for us. Eventually Boo came into the room, standing at the bottom of the chair, gauging whether there was enough room for her, then deciding against it and going to the crib, jumping from the changing table to the crib in order to settle herself inside it. It was one of her favorite places. I probably should stop her from sleeping in there before the baby was born in order to keep her from creating bad habits, but it was so cute.
“I know it’s technically meant to be my turn, and this isn’t me wussing out,” I said, breaking the silence. “But will you tell me about them? Gabbie and Evelyn?”
Kip’s arms tightened around me when I said their names.
“These past few months is the most I’ve heard their names in five years,” he murmured, nuzzling my neck and rubbing my stomach.
I pursed my lips, the news not exactly a surprise to me. The Kip I had known up until we got married was carefree, cocky, and a total manwhore. That Kip did not hint at a tragic past. Not even a little.
It would take some pretty heavy denial to plaster on an exterior that thick. I wondered if he’d even thought about them in five years.
“If it’s too hard…” I said, not wanting to push him. I was still tensed for him to close off to me. For me to be left out here in the proverbial cold.
“It is hard,” he said. “Which is why I need to tell you. I need to give you a reason to trust me. To know me.” He brushed at my hair.
“Gabbie and I were high school sweethearts,” he explained. “She was sweet. She loved living in our small town. But she was also a rebel when she needed to be.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
Despite the fact that she was very dead, a petty part of me hated Gabbie. For existing in Kip’s past, for dying because she would always be perfect in his memory, and he could never feel for me like he felt for her.
An utterly gross and bitter thought, but one that had been circling in my mind.
“She was the girl who everyone wanted and the one who I managed to get,” he said. “And… Evelyn.” He choked out her name, and thunder boomed after it as if to punctuate it.
“She was perfect,” he said. “She had blue eyes. Her mother’s dark hair. She was curious. She loved horror movies.”
“Horror movies?” I asked, surprised.
He chuckled. It was a warm sound. “Yeah, she loved zombies, vampires—the scarier the better. She was fearless.”
His adoration for his daughter was blindingly clear. For his dead daughter. I couldn’t fathom that.
“It broke me when they died,” he whispered. “Severed me into bits and pieces that didn’t fit together again. I wanted to die. Thought about making it happen many times.”
I had to swallow a choked sob at the mere thought of Kip not existing in this world. He’d managed to live that. I could hold my shit together while hearing it.
Kip rubbed my stomach. “Rowan saved my life,” he said. “And Calliope. His family.” He rested his head against my temple. “My mom tried. Fuck, did she try. She wanted to keep them alive for me. She wanted to remember them, memorialize them. And I fucking hated her for it.”
I heard the self-hatred and regret in his voice.
“That’s why I retired—too late—and that’s why I moved here.” He cleared his throat. “We moved here,” he corrected. “Rowan came with me just like he came with me across an ocean to a fucking war zone. He’s a good man.”
“So are you,” I told him gently, hearing what he’d left unsaid.
He rubbed my stomach again, and our daughter kicked as if to further my point. “No, I’m not,” he argued. “Look at what I did to you.”
“You mean knocking me up with a surprise baby?” I asked, teasing in my tone.
“I mean knocking you up with your miracle baby and leaving you to deal with the fear and trauma of everything that came before for months,” he corrected.
I sighed. “I think you’ve done really good at the self-flagellation thing,” I informed him. “You’re here. We’re here. Dwelling in the past does nothing but poison the future. Take it from someone who knows. And is still working on it.”
Kip didn’t reply, and the storm continued to rage.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For telling me.”
He kissed me. “Thank you for forgiving me.” The thunder boomed again. “You have forgiven me, haven’t you, wife?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I have forgiven you.”
It was the truth. I had. But we weren’t out of the woods yet. That I knew.