Page 1 of Stolen Dreams

PROLOGUE

RAY

Past

“I never wanted this!”Brianna flails her hands dramatically around the room. “To be a mother. To be…attachedto the same person for the rest of my life.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I snort then laugh without humor. “Bit late for that, Bri.” I glance down the hall toward our bedroom, praying our fight—one of several over the past two and a half years since learning we’d be parents—doesn’t wake Tucker. “Youarea mother. Iama father.” I gesture between us. “Weareparents. And we will always beattached—to each other and our child.”

Her entire frame stiffens as she curls her hands into tight fists at her sides. “Don’t talk to me like a fucking idiot, Ray,” she grits out between clenched teeth. “Just because I gave birth doesn’t mean Iwantto be a mother. Doesn’t mean I have to be. Maybe someone else should take him.”

Spinning on her heel, she heads for the door and dons her coat.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Brianna keeps her back to me as she picks up her purse and riffles through it. An exasperated huff floats through the room as she tosses the purse down and darts around me for the hallway. “Did you take my keys?”

I bolt after her, hoping to stop her from turning the bedroom upside down with Tucker in his toddler bed. When Brianna gets like this, she doesn’t care about anyone except herself.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There is one other thing she cares about.

Several months ago, I walked in on Brianna in the bathroom as she popped a couple pills into her mouth. Concern wrinkled my forehead as I met her gaze in the mirror. Worried she had a cold and needed isolation so Tucker didn’t catch whatever she had, I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong and how I could help.

But I snapped my mouth shut the moment I glanced down at the vanity. An unlabeled prescription bottle sat uncapped on the counter. None of the pills inside the small container the same shape or color.

In a flash, a million questions ran through my head.

What is she taking?

How long has she been taking them?

Does she take them when alone with Tucker?

As I held her gaze in the mirror, I asked the first question. She’d given me a plausible answer.

“I’ve been getting migraines. A guy at work said he used to get them and tried a few medications before he found one that worked. He gave me a few to try.”

At the time, like a naive fool, I believed her. The stress of parenthood, plus working insane hours on opposite schedules so we were with Tucker as often as possible, took its toll on us both. Brianna hadn’t given me a reason not to trust her, and the last thing I needed to do was divide us with my irrational thoughts.

But I should have pushed the subject. I should have asked more questions or taken a closer look at the pills.

Not long after that day, Brianna morphed into someone else. Someone unrecognizable.

As her sparkle dulled, my guilt and concern multiplied.

I should’ve said more that day in the bathroom. Should’ve offered to adjust my schedule and give her more downtime. Should’ve paid closer attention after the night she popped those pills.

There’s so much I should’ve done but didn’t do. In my own way, I care for her. Trust her. And she played me like the gull I am.

“No, Bri, I didn’t take your keys,” I whisper-hiss in the dimly lit bedroom.

She shuffles everything on top of the dresser, not giving a damn about the noise.

Tucker squirms and rolls over in his toddler bed, less than five feet from my side of our queen mattress. But he doesn’t wake, thank goodness.

Brianna continues the hunt for her car keys, tossing things on the floor as she moves from one spot to the next. When she starts toward the nightstand between our bed and Tucker, I step in front of her and extend my arms.

“No,” I whisper with firm authority. “Your keys aren’t over here. And you willnotwake and scare Tucker by throwing shit near him.”

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