Page 40 of Chasing Storm

I let out a weak laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head. “I was wondering if you and Teagan plan on having children.”

Her inquiry has me forgetting about what happened for a moment and thinking about the future. I’d love a houseful of children, but I’m guessing that would take a lot of convincing for Teagan.

“Yeah.”

Isabella’s finished breastfeeding and the baby is laying across her lap. “What a wordsmith you are?” I laugh at her response, and then she adds, “Would you like to hold Maya?”

My eyes drop to the baby. Her hair is blond, almost white, along with her eyelashes. Her legs kick in and out while she gnaws on her chubby hand. As much as I want children, I can’t remember ever holding a child, let alone a baby, so I surprise myself when I agree. She places Maya in my arms, reminding me to hold her head. She’s cute. Her big slate-gray eyes staring up at me. I hold my pinky by her hand, and she grasps it. A strong, tiny girl. Leo’s going to be warding off all the guys who pursue her. She coos up at me, and it’s the sweetest thing. I’m in awe of how incredible it is to hold this tiny human, knowing a baby’s life is completely in your hands. An enormous responsibility.

I can’t even imagine having a daughter. My nerves will be shot from all the worrying I’d do. She’ll have to live with me until she’s forty, and only then will I let her go on dates…supervised, of course.

Teagan’s screams disrupt the moment, causing Maya to whimper. I hand her back to Isabella, taking two stairs at a time to the bedroom. Teagan is groaning, thrashing her head back and forth, flailing her limbs. I gather her in my arms, worried she’ll tear her stitches.

My mouth presses against her ear. “Shhh, Love. No one’s going to hurt you ever again. I promise.”

Her body relaxes into mine the more I whisper and rock her. I wipe the sweat from her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ears. Between my legs, body cradled in my arms, she drifts back to sleep.

The next morning, we wake in the same position I fell asleep in. Teagan wipes her face, rubs her eyes, and glances up at me. I kiss the tip of her nose before she gets up to use the washroom. When she returns, she’s hunched over, hands splayed over her stomach.

I scoot out of bed, sit her on the edge of it, and remove the tape from one side to see if she’s bleeding. There’s a bit of blood on the bandage, but it doesn’t look like she tore the stitching. The nurse showed me how to tend to her wound and when to administer the medication. Her incision is about 15 cm long below her belly button. Her hand often drifts over the bandage as if embarrassed.

“Lay on your back, and I’ll change the bandages.”

Without saying a word, she does as I ask, staring up at the ceiling. My Tea has become reserved, often fading from me into thought. I snap her out of it, asking where she’s gone to, but she shakes her head and remains quiet. Between her quietness and nightmares, I’m afraid she might drift too deep into herself. I’ve tried getting her to talk about the shooting, except she refuses. Obviously, she’s not ready to relive it.

After I’m done, she continues to stare upwards, resting her hand over the bandage. I ask if it still hurts, and she says other than a little sensitivity and itching, it’s fine.

We’ve been here for five days. Physically, Teagan is healing great, but mentally she’s shut down. She’s distant, melancholic, and if I didn’t force feed her, she wouldn’t eat at all. The nightmares break up her sleep, which makes her tired and agitated during the day. I’ve done enough research to know these are some of the post-traumatic symptoms. Leo and Isabella try to get her to interact, or hold Maya, yet Teagan claims she’s tired, and heads to the bedroom. The only way I can think of connecting with her is by having sex. Our connection might get her to open up to me as I make her…feel. Aside from when we arrived, there hasn’t been any sexual intimacy. No reciprocated cuddles, hugs or kisses, although it hasn’t deterred me from my attempts.

Tomorrow, her stitches come out. Today, I’m going to make love to my wife. To get her to unwind, come, and free her emotions. From what I’ve read, it’s important to get her to talk about the incident. The longer we ignore it, the harder it will be to bring her back.

Teagan stares out the window while I stand at the end of the bed, watching her. I take off my boxer briefs, stroking my hard, throbbing cock. She doesn’t look my way. I wet my lips, relishing in the idea of being inside her. My cock hasn’t been rooted in her for weeks. Tearing off the foil, I roll a condom on and crawl over her body until we’re face-to-face. My forearms bare most of my weight.

This gets her attention as she gasps, “What are you doing?”

I seat my erection against her clit. “Am I hurting you?” Teagan shakes her head. I brush my nose against hers. “Do you remember when I had planned to drop you off in that little town so you could start over?” She whispers ayes. “Do you remember what you told me?” She whispersno. “You said, ‘I love you, Joey. More than a person is capable of loving. I’m not abandoning you while you run for your life. Through sickness and in health, I’m with you to the end.’”

Tears bubble in her eyes, and she turns her head to the side. I slide my hand to the back of her head, palming it to bring her focus to me.

“Do you know what, Tea?”

With a quivering lip, she asks, “What?”

“I love you more than a person is capable of loving. I’m not abandoning you while you struggle with your trauma. Through sickness and in health, I’m with you to the end.”

Teagan bursts into tears, sobbing into the crook of my shoulder. I don’t say anything else, and just rub her clit with the head of my cock. Her tears diminish into soft moans. I place kisses on her forehead. Each cheek. The corners of her mouth. And I snuggle my nose against hers.

“You’re my everything, Tea. What hurts you hurts me. I know you’re having a hard time with the shooting. Your emotions are all over the place.” I pause for a reaction, keeping my hips circling, cock running up her slit and pressing against her clit. Her eyes connect with mine. Puffs of air blow against my face, and my thumb caresses her cheek. “It’s okay to have all these feelings of hurt, anger, anxiety, because it’s normal.”

Our faces are so close, eyes bolted on each other.

Her hips angle upwards as she says, “I’m not myself.”

My knees widen her thighs more. Her arousal scents the room, and I wedge my cock into her entrance little by little. Like a rocking horse, I pitch back and forth, hearing and smelling her slickness. Her eyes begin to close with a moan. I clench my teeth around her nipple, which makes her eyes open, focusing on mine.

Her nipple pops from my mouth, and I say, “It’s okay to feel off balance, which will take time.”

---