Page 9 of Justice

It’s always been me and Christopher, and everyone would make jokes that I was his little ole lady since we were in diapers.

My heart is shattering as he stands in front of me.

"You shouldn't be here," I say, hating how weak I sound. "You should be finishing your training, preparing to take over the club. That's what's important."

Christopher's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Don't tell me what's important, Elizabeth," he growls, using my full name in a way that sends shivers down my spine. "You're what's important. You always have been."

I can’t bear to look at him. I let my face fall to the floor, looking there because if I stare at him any longer, I will burst into tears for the hundredth time.

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around myself. "Things have changed, Christopher. I've changed. I'm not… I'm not who I was before."

“My Elizabeth,” he says in that husky voice of his. He separates the distance, tugging me into his broad chest and holding me so tight.

My grip on the back of his jacket tightens, as if I'm trying to hold on to him forever. It's the first time since everything happened that I've felt truly safe in someone else's arms.

But, I have to tell him. He deserves that.

“Christopher.” My voice cracks as I prepare myself to tell him all of the horrible and life-changing details.

"I know what happened, Elle," he says softly, his voice a mix of pain and barely contained rage. "And I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Tears prick at my eyes, and I blink rapidly to hold them back. How can he say that? How can he look at me like I'm still whole, still worthy of his love? "You don't understand," I choke out. "I'm… I'm pregnant, Christopher. With… with his baby."

I expect him to recoil, to look at me with disgust or pity. Instead, his eyes soften, filled with a tenderness that threatens to shatter the walls I've built around my heart.

"I know," he says simply, closing the distance between us. "And it doesn't change a damn thing."

I pull away from him, feeling a mix of shock, embarrassment, and shame after realizing someone told him before I could.

I sink into the couch, my body heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. The leather creaks beneath me, cool against my bare legs. I can't bring myself to look at Christopher, afraid of what I might see in those piercing blue eyes.

"I understand why you're here, Christopher," I say, my voice surprisingly steady despite the storm raging inside me. "It's okay. You don't have to…" I trail off, unable to finish the thought. “You don't have to stay. You don't have to pretend or do the right thing or what you think is the right thing.”

But before I can spiral further into my dark thoughts, Christopher is there. He drops to his knees in front of me, his large hands coming to rest on my thighs.

Baby," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Look at me."

I hesitate, but I can't resist him. Never could. Slowly, I lift my eyes to meet his gaze. What I see there steals the breath from my lungs. There's no pity, no disgust. Just a fierce, burning intensity that makes my heart stutter in my chest.

"Do you think I would just let you go?" Christopher asks, his thumbs tracing small circles on my skin.

Wait, what?

I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. "But I'm not… I'm not the same anymore. I'm broken, Christopher. And this baby…" My hand drifts to my still flat stomach, a gesture that's become habit over the past few weeks. “I feel like a shattered piece of glass.”

"You listen to me, Elizabeth," he says, using my full name again. "You're not broken. You're the strongest person I know. And that baby?" His hand covers mine on my stomach, his touch impossibly gentle. "That baby is a part of you. And that means it's a part of me too."

I shake my head, not daring to believe him. "How can you say that? How can you want…" I can't finish the sentence, the words sticking in my throat.

Christopher leans in closer, his forehead almost touching mine. I can feel the brushing of his breath on my face, can smell the familiar scent of leather and motor oil that clings to him. "Because I love you, Elle. I've loved you since we were kids, and I'll love you until the day I die. Nothing changes that. Not this, not anything."

His words wash over me, a balm to my battered soul. But still, doubt lingers. "But your training, the club…"

"Fuck the training," Christopher growls, his grip on my thighs tightening slightly. "Fuck all of it. You're what matters. You and this baby. I'm not going anywhere, Elle. I'm right here, and I'm not leaving. Do you understand me?"

I stare into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation, any sign that he's not as certain as he claims. For the first time in a long time, I feel something other than fear and despair. I feel hope.

A tear rolls down my face, not one of sadness but of overwhelming relief. “It shattered my heart the most because Ialways dreamed my first time would be with you. It feels like it was stolen from us both.”

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