Page 58 of Lost Girl

Hands flying at her, I cup her face, bringing her dangerously close. "Just tell me. Nothing you say is going to change a goddamn thi—"

"I miscarried!" she croaks, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I miscarried, okay? That's what the bloody show was.”

I was right.

“Oh, Wendy.” Dropping my forehead to hers, I close my eyes, wishing I could suffer this grief for her. She’s been through enough. “I’m so sorry, little wolf.”

“Don’t be,” she whispers, clenching the front of my white t-shirt in a death grip. “I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

"Was it..."

"Peter's?”

I nod.

“Unfortunately."

Right there, in that moment, I’m devoured with this feral sense of propriety. I’ve not felt even a quarter of this in my entire life. Everythingburnshotter than the wildest flame,vision tunneling in that way it does before a shift. If I were actually in my wolf form, the hair lining my spine would be stiff, canines exposed through a snarl.

That depraved, incestual halfling impregnated her. He put his hands on her, had the privilege of loving her.

"Why do you say it like that?" I grate, easing back with that maddening image now seared in my mind.

"Because Peter wasn't the man I thought he was,” she whispers, holding my stare. “I haven't mourned him, not the way a woman in love should have. Then again the truth often tends to hurt, right? Yes, Tinksley and Hook took me without reason, but at least I finally learned the truth. Had they murdered Peter without any explanation at all and left me behind to pick up the pieces, I'd be neck-deep in grief right now. I'd probably still be pregnant, too. Ward says the shock of everything is at probable fault for the loss."

As much as I’d like not to agree with her on the Hook/Tinksley front, I know she’s right. Had revenge never been at the top of Tinksley’s list, the poor girl would’ve lived her life with thatboy,clueless to what a monster he truly was.

"Are you okay?" It’s all I can think to ask at this point, breathing past the surge still searing me from the inside out.

"About the baby?"

I nod, throat bobbing dramatically as I down that bitter pill.

“I'm probably going to sound like a cold-hearted bitch for this but—” she pauses, nipping her full bottom lip for a heart-thrashing beat. “Everything happens for a reason and I'm glad it did. I honestly can't imagine carrying this baby full-term knowing what I know about Peter now. An innocent life in this whole mess, I know.”

I can’t tell if she’s serious, or if this is her version of a brave face. "But what, little wolf—you can tell me. Nothing changes, remember?"

Wendy nods and reaches for my hand, urging me to follow her. We fall instep and amble out of town when she finally continues, “Just thinking about Peter, about all those years I spent fretting over him, and what I allowed to happen when he returned makes me sick to my stomach. I can't believe I wasted all that time praying for his safety when he'd not only killed his mother, but washere,preying on his little sister."

She has a point."Well, when you put it that way.”

"Sickening, just sickening. That’s why I know his offspring would only serve as a hellish reminder of it all. I can’t believe I’m about to say this but after all I’ve suffered, the last thing I need is to look at an innocent child and relive everything that lead up to their conception on a daily basis. I’ll never recover and I don’t want to end up like my mother—whoring out on the corner for drug money to numb herself.”

Yet another valid point. Perhaps it’s because I’m a man, but I can see the sense in that. Children are products of their parents and while Wendy might’ve been the greatest mother to walk the earth, the other half of that child would always be a reminder ofhim.

A trigger waiting to happen, hiding in the shadows for an opportune time to strike.

Yes, this is logical. Rational.Relieving.Imagine if this wasn’t her mindset, if the grief of losing an unexpected baby swallowed her whole. She thinks her indifference makes her cold-hearted—well, then I must be selfish, too.

"Do you want kids?" I ask, bypassing the mention of her mother. The conversation is already heavy enough without adding in a parent who very clearly failed in their role.

"Of course, I love kids. Just wasn’t the right time or with the right person.”

The right person.My chest puffs up at those three little words. "I don't know that there's ever really a right time. Plans aside, is anyone ever ready for a baby? Even with multiple children—each one is a different experience, a different journey. Hell, Lil and I were complete opposites as kids. I was hell on wheels and well, she wasn't."

"Really? I would never have guessed," she quips, shooting me a sideways grin.

One that draws out on my lips, too. "Shut up." I shove her gently.

---