Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
While I was horrified and stunned and still not quite able to process that I’d killed a man, I wouldn’t feel guilty about it. He’d admitted to murdering another man, and I knew he’d intended to kill us.
There was a real possibility he’d killed more than just Vanessa’s father, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit that if it was true, I’d be glad I stuck that ice pick in him.
They separated us at the hospital, despite Brodan’s protests, and Mac had insisted on being allowed to wait outside my exam room. As soon as the doctor appeared, I cried as I told him I suspected I was pregnant and was afraid physical trauma might have hurt the baby.
Everything moved faster at that news as the doctor and nurses rushed to run tests.
Tears I couldn’t stop rolled down my cheeks.
For years, I’d wanted Brodan, and I’d wanted to be the mother of his child.
For a few beautiful days, it seemed like all that might be possible.
But life had already proven that it didn’t know how to play fair with me.
BRODAN
* * *
Monroe was paler than normal, the freckles on her forehead seeming brighter under the hospital lights. Her eyelashes fluttered, and I wondered what she was dreaming about.
I shifted in the chair by her bed, my ribs protesting at the movement, but I refused to get up and go back to my own bed. The nurse had stopped insisting a while ago.
I couldn’t leave Monroe. The doctors had advised we both stay overnight because of our concussions, and that was fine. As long as I got to be with her.
Those moments in the cabin, when I’d first entered and saw her unconscious, when I’d come to only to find myself bound and unable to save her …
Fuck, I’d never felt more powerless.
She’d saved me.
Again.
Walker, ever the superdetective, had run a check on Ian Moffat even before the police could give us more information. Moffat was from Vanessa’s hometown, and it appeared he might have known her his whole life. There was a rental agreement with both their names on it, so they’d lived together, and Walker somehow got his hands on police reports for Vanessa’s death. Moffat had been the one to find her. According to his medical records, Ian Moffat was being treated with therapy and antipsychotics for hallucinations and paranoia triggered by Vanessa’s suicide.
A small part of me sympathized with him. But only a small part, considering he’d threatened to murder the love of my life.
Reaching for Monroe’s hand, I clasped it between both of mine and bent my head to kiss the inside of her wrist. Feeling her pulse there, I tried to relax. But I got this weird feeling from her doctor. Like they weren’t telling me something. It was making me uneasy as fuck.
Staring at her—damaged by my past in more ways than one—should have made me want to get up and walk away. Leave her again. Protect myself from a kind of yawning pain that would break me if something happened to her.
But I couldn’t anymore.
I didn’t want to.
I’d tasted what life with Monroe was like. What our love was like.
It was worth the inevitable indescribable grief I’d feel if she left this world before me.
I wouldn’t run. Even if she deserved better than me.
After all, I’d always been a selfish bastard when it came to Monroe Sinclair.
She was mine.
Forever.
As I was hers.
Even if forever couldn’t last.
Emotion thickened my throat, and I pressed another kiss to her hand.
Her fingers twitched, drawing my gaze to her face. Those perfect gray eyes were open and looking right into me. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Your doctor is hiding something from me,” I blurted out.
Monroe searched my face as she curled her fingers around my hand. “I’m pregnant, Brodan.”
Her words took a second to penetrate.
Then relief, unlike anything I could remember, flooded me. I let out a huff of disbelief, and it turned into quiet laughter.
Roe’s eyes widened. “Not exactly the reaction I expected.”
“You’re not dying … you’re pregnant?”
Her hand flexed in mine. “You thought I was dying?”
“I thought something was really wrong, aye.” I stood, ignoring the pain in my ribs to lean over and press a quick but desperate kiss to her lips. “But you’re pregnant.”
“You’re okay with that?” she whispered.
I grinned, bracing my hands on either side of her head. “I am more than okay with that. Of course, we should get married first.”
“Brodan, I’m not marrying you because I’m pregnant,” she snapped.
Relieved to see her fire, I shrugged. “Nah, we’re getting married because you’re the love of my fucking life, and I don’t want to waste anymore time.”
Laughter lit her eyes. “So, you’re telling me we’re getting married? You’re not asking?”
“The question was implicit.”
“Was it?”
My mind raced, the fear of fatherhood overshadowed by the anticipation of it. “I wonder if the house will be ready in time for the baby? How far along are you?”