Page 48 of Never Yours

“Of course,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as our daughter kicks against his hand. His eyes soften, breathing steadies, appearing more like my Caleb by the second.

Several pass and Cay finally rights his posture. “I’m sorry.”

I cup his neck and bring his lips to mine. Between kisses, I manage, “No apologies. We’ll make sure you have someone to talk to about this, but for now, you’re safe with me, Pop, and Cass.”

I didn’t anticipate Cay’s mental health to be added to my laundry list of things that need attention before our daughter was born. But in less than one day, it has shot to the top of it.

“Let’s get you home, son,” Pop says carefully, but Caleb doesn’t move.

“Cay, I’m safe. Pop is here. Both of you will make sure me and the baby are safe, okay? Do you want to talk to someone now or in the morning?” He doesn’t reply; he’s so rigid I’m afraid to move him. “Hey, Pop, why don’t we have Cass find us a doctor on-site while we wait?”

“Happy to,” Cass pipes up. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Cassidy leaves, while Pop keeps his hands firmly placed on Cay’s shoulders. I slip my hands over his to brush them away slowly and wrap my arms around Caleb. Pop places a hand on the center of Caleb’s back as I remind Cay, “I’m here. Our baby is safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters over and over, my heart breaking that he feels he could be at fault for any of this.

“None of this is your fault. You protected me. You protected our baby. You protected our family. You’re safe.” The command in my voice surprises even me. Even Pop has to hide his smirk. “Let’s get you home.”

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. . .

Itry my hardest to stay grounded, but fear keeps seeping in. The emotional toll is fucking exhausting. “All I want is a night with my wife.”

Ingrid looks to Pop, pupils dilated and little wrinkles forming between her eyes. Ingrid isn’t my wife, but for the past six months it’s what I had to hang onto.

“I mean?—”

“Cay, we’re staying together tonight. If that’s what you want,” Ingrid offers. It’s not placating, she planned on staying with me. My heart rate slows from knowing this was her plan all along.

It takes me a beat to remember her words, “She’s yours, Cay.”

Our daughter.

“Rogers,” Pop warns.

I tear my eyes away from her for the first time in what feels like hours. “Is she safe?”

“Yes,” Pop insists. “Ingrid and your daughter are safe.” They keep telling me this, why don’t I believe it? He then tells Ingrid, “Why don’t you and Cass check in at the hotel? Caleb and I will be there soon.”

“I’m not leaving?—”

“Ingrid,” he snaps. “Hotel.”

“No,” she bites back, her eyes murderous. “Not until I know Caleb is okay.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “But… Pop is right.” I hold Ingrid close, and as much as it hurts to admit, I sigh, “I need to talk to someone before I stay the night with you. If I ever hurt you… or our baby?—”

“You wouldn’t,” she declares defiantly.

“I can’t risk it.”

Pop places his hand on her shoulder, and she shoots him a warning glare. His voice gentler, he tells her, “Ingrid, trust me. Go to the hotel. We’ll call you as soon as he can talk to someone.”

The creaking overhead continues and sends me right back to the galley kitchen when we were hit. Suddenly, another flashback to the patch failing fills my mind. The rushing water, the boat breaking beneath me. My ears are ringing, and I try my hardest to stay present. Pop keeps a hand pressed firmly on my back as I try to control my breathing.

Tears fall from the one woman I know who never cries. “They never called me when he was back.” No matter how hard she tries to hold them back, Ingrid’s tears track down her cheeks, making my own eyes swell and tears threatening to fall. “Please.”

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