Page 102 of Seizing Control: Part Two

So far, he hasn’t.

He’s steadfastly ignored every sign of the impending expansion of our family.

Stubborn jerk.

If I didn’t love him so much, if I wasn’t aware of the damage he carries from Jenna and the loss of his first son, I’d have written him off by now. Every few days, I feel the urge growing bigger. It’s becoming impossible to disregard. I’m on the cusp of being a mother of three, before the age of twenty-four, to a trio of babies without a father in their life.

“Ooofft.” I hiss through my teeth as my belly ripples with pain again. “Damn it.” My fingertips brush my phone. The damn device slides out of my reach. On my side, caught in a position that I’m pretty sure I’m going to need help to get out of, I grumble, “Fuck me dead.”

Hearing one of Zeke’s favourite curses escape my mouth is bittersweet.

His reticence as Lazarus to use profanity is mildly amusing.

I’d rather hear him swearing up a storm than never see him again.

My bedroom door opens slowly.

A shadow looms.

The size of it tells me it can only be one person.

My husband.

“Slash,” I say his name in a tone that hides none of my turmoil. “Don’t go.” That plea is the same one I levelled at Zeke almost three months ago when he first returned. In the same way that it didn’t keep my first love with me that night, the big man turns around to leave without speaking to me. Another cramp takes hold, this one the worst yet. “Argh. Ooofft. Damn it. Listen, you stubborn arsehole. I’m stuck and I’m in pain... the least you can do is help me upright.”

For a week, I’ve tried not to direct my anger toward him.

Turns out, it’s what he needed to break his vow of silence.

“Fuck, baby.” Slash is fast on his feet, reaching me in three long strides. His warm hands close around mine and he tenderly assists me into a sitting position. On his knees, he shuffles in between my legs. My belly makes the embrace awkward, but my husband’s long arms mean he’s able to hold me tight anyway. Forehead resting lightly on mine, he murmurs, “Tell me where you’re hurtin’.”

Although my stomach and lower back are in agony, I touch my fingers to the left side of my chest instead. “In here. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Duchess... I fuckin’ love you to death. It’s just...” he trails off. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows hard. “I’m no good. Not for you. Not for... I tried to...”

When he leaves his full thought unspoken, I prompt, “Tell me.”

Slash moves his head from side to side.

I gently place my fingers on his bandaged head. “Tell. Me.”

The confirmation that I’ve requested is unnecessary since I’ve known the truth for a week.

My inability to acknowledge Hunter’s insinuation is my problem, yet I intuitively understand that my husband needs to verbalise it if we’re going to move past it.

The self-loathing battling for supremacy in my husband’s angry voice makes me shiver. “I tried to kill myself.” My heart swoops to the bottom of my belly. “You were right, baby... I’m a coward, and you needa stay as far the fuck away from me as you can.”

“No.” He easily breaks free of my grip when I try to keep him with me. “Please.”

Standing at his full height, Slash looms over me. His demeanour is menacing, his expression cold as an icy scowl settles over his normally handsome features. The perfect symmetry to his face is lost, his lips twisting and his nose screwing up with anguish, as my husband gives into his darkness. I watch his trauma win. Play witness to him embracing pain as his due instead of accepting my unconditional love.

Narrow-eyed, his generous lips a white slash, the big man’s pain destroys me.

“I won’t stop loving you, Carter,” I whisper as I push back to my feet and hold out a hand to him. He moves away from me. “I’ll wait until you come to your senses—when you finally choose to love yourself so you can love our children properly.”

“Stop livin’ in delusion, Lily... move the fuck on from me... from us.”

“Did you kill Lazarus?”

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