He sighs as he looks back down to a fussy Ace with a slow nod of his head. I give him time to find the words to express what he needs to say, watch him reach out and run the back of his hand over Ace’s cheek. The sight of him connecting to Ace like that tugs at my heartstrings. That feeling I felt like I had been missing moments ago—of utter love seeing my two men together—fills me with such a sense of joy that I cling to it, suddenly realizing how absent it was before.
And the thought alone makes me choke back a sob, feel like I’m losing my mind. Keep it together, Ry. Keep. It. Together. Colton needs you right now. It’s not the time to need him because he needs you.
“Did you?” I ask, trying to regain my schizophrenic focus.
“He’s hungry,” he says abruptly as he lifts him off the floor and carries him to me. We’ve been together long enough that I know avoidance when I see it and yet for the life of me when he places Ace in my arms for me to nurse, I blank for a second. My mind and body not clicking together on what I need to do.
And as loud as Ace is crying, the last thing I want to do is nurse so in a move I register as callous but don’t quite understand, I tune Ace out and focus on Colton as he walks across the room and into the kitchen. I hear the cupboard open, close, the clink of glass to glass, and know he’s poured himself a drink. Jack Daniels.
Crap. It must have been really bad.
I wish he had let me go with him today. I wish we didn’t have Ace so I wouldn’t fear leaving my own goddamn house because of the cameras and never-ending intrusion into our privacy. Both of those things prevented me from being there for my husband on a day he needed me the most. Guilt stabs sharply, consumes my state of mind, as I wait for him to return and hopefully talk to me.
Out of nowhere and without a trigger, a sudden wave of sadness bears down on me in a way I’ve never felt before. Oppressive. Suffocating. So stifling it’s significantly worse than the darkest of days after losing Max and both of my babies. And just as my shock ebbs from the onslaught I feel, a ghost of a thought becomes stronger and knocks the wind out of me: I just want our life back to when it was Colton and me and no one else.
Oh my God. Ace.
The unspeakable thought staggers me. Its ludicrousness takes my breath momentarily but is gone as quick as it comes. The acrid taste of it still lingers though but thankfully the rising pitch of Ace’s cries breaks its hold on my psyche.
I try to get a grip on myself, remorse and confusion fueling my actions as I gather him closer to me and kiss his head over and over, begging him to forgive me for a thought he will never even know I had.
But I will remember.
With shaky hands, I go through the motions of getting him latched onto my breast as quickly as possible, needing this moment of bonding to quiet the turmoil I feel within me. When his cries fade as he starts to suckle, I close my eyes and wait for the rush of endorphins to come. I hope for it, beg for it, but before I feel it I hear Colton enter the room and stop in front of me.
I open my eyes to find his and have to fight the urge to look away, fearful if he looks close enough, he’ll see into me and realize the horrible thought I just had. Panic strikes, my nerves sensitive like bare flesh on hot coals. I just need something to ground me right now—either the soothing rush from nursing or to be wrapped in the arms of my husband—to prevent me from feeling like I’m slowly spiraling out of control.
And just as my breath becomes shallow and my pulse starts to race, it hits me. That slow rush of delayed hormones spreads their warmth through my body and dulls the erratic and out-of-control emotions. All of a sudden I have a bit of clarity, can focus, and the person I need to focus on most is right in front of me.
Our eyes hold in the silence of the room, the intensity and confusion in the green of his makes my heart twist from the unmistakable pain I see in their depths. His eyes flicker down to Ace at my breast and hold there for a moment before lifting back up to meet mine with a touch more softness in them, but the hurt still plain as day.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Colton clears his throat and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I saw what I needed to see, know what I need to know. Curiosity satisfied,” he says as he sits down on the coffee table in front of me.
And I know that sound in his voice—guarded, protective, unaffected. There is a whole storm brewing behind the haunted look in his eyes, yet I’m not sure if I should draw it out of him or leave it be and wait for the eye to pass on its own.
My own curiosity gets the best of me. My innate need to fix and soothe and help him when he’s hurting controls my actions. “Did you get to—?”
“He’s a piece of shit, okay?” he explodes, startling both Ace and myself. “He didn’t give a goddamn flying fuck who I was. All he saw was a nice car, nice clothes, and was totaling up dollar signs in his eyes for how much he could take me for. He reeked of alcohol, had the tats to show he’d earned his prison cred . . .” The words come out in a complete rush of air, the hurricane within him needing to churn. The muscle in his jaw pulses with anger, his muscles visibly taut as he lifts the glass of amber liquid to his lips. He pushes the alcohol around the inside of his mouth trying to figure out what to say next before he swallows it. “I am nothing like him. I will never be anything like him.” He grits the words out with poisoned resolution.
“I never thought you were or would be.” Still unsure of the right thing to say, I take the direct approach with him. He doesn’t need to be coddled right now or treated with kid gloves. That would only diminish the validity of his feelings and what he’s going through.