Page 57 of Shoot Your Shot

My eyes narrow—not from anger, but confusion. “Yeah?” I turn my face slightly, looking at her in question. “You always used to need your heating pad during your periods. I just … wanted to be helpful. I know how much pain they bring you.” I wince. “Hate seeing you that way, you know?”

“Yeah,” she says softly before her nostrils flare while she pulls in a breath. “They did. But then … six months ago, I ended up in the emergency room with pain so bad that I felt like my body was being ripped in half—”

“You were in the hospital?” I cut her off, unable to stop myself. “Jesus Christ, Paige. Why didn’t you call me?”

“My parents took me. I was fine,” she snaps, making her growing frustration clear. “Let me talk, Kolt. My good fucking God. Can you try to not be a caveman for, like … five seconds of your life and listen to me?” She huffs out a breath, calming herself down.

“When I was there, I ended up having emergency exploratory surgery to figure out where the pain was coming from. And just as I’d suspected for most of my adult life, they found endometriosis.Stage fourendometriosis. And that was why my periods had always been so bad.”

I’m trying to keep calm because I know that’s what she needs me to be, but fucking A, I’m so mad at myself. I did this. I pushedher away so that she’d leave. And because of that, she had to go through all of what she just told me alone.

“Baby,” I whisper, looking down at her and feeling my heart rip to absolute fucking shreds, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that you went through that alone. That I wasn’t there to be the fucking man I was supposed to be. The man I’dvowedI would be.” My throat feels raw, and the words barely come out in a croak. “Your husband, Paige. I’m supposed to be your husband. And where the fuck was I? I’m so sorry.”

A small gust of wind comes up from the water, blowing her hair away from her face and making her bat her lashes a few times as she stares up at me.

“Kolt, there’s something else though,” she utters faintly. “Last night, you said that it was your fault we couldn’t get pregnant.” She stops for a moment to gather herself. “That isn’t true.” Her shoulders shrug up and down, and she frowns sadly. “One of the most common symptoms of endometriosis is infertility. So … it wasn’t just you stopping us from having a baby. It was me too.” She sniffles. “It seems we’re doomed on both sides. It’s like … the universe doesn’t think we deserve kids or something.”

Before I can say a word, her eyes gloss over, and she blinks quickly, sending a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I want to say something. I know what it feels like to think your body is broken. Or … incapable of doing the one thing you want it to do.” She pushes her hands into the pockets of her jacket, her eyebrows pinching together with emotion. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you going another second believing that it’s all your fault that we never got to have babies. Because even if your body was working the way it was supposed to … my reproductive system hates me.” She weeps, giving me the saddest smile. “The odds have been stacked against us since day one, huh?”

I pull her against me, pressing my lips to the top of her head as I stare off into space, thinking about everything she just said. There are no words I can say right now to make anything better or easier. Because I know exactly how she feels, even if it’s a different circumstance.

I might not be the one who would carry our baby inside of me, but if and when we have a baby, it’ll be just as much mine as it is hers. And I fucking hate that my body decided to throw a wrench in our plans. As a man, I think we have this complex that this sort of shit doesn’t happen. And that we’ll procreate, no problem. But the truth is, for a lot of guys, that isn’t the case.

Until I met my wife, I wouldn’t have given a fuck either way. Now? It’s all I think about. But not because I can’t live without kids. But because I’m scared she can’t.

I hate that she’s going through this, but I’m glad that, because I’ve been there, I can do my best to help her through it.

I pull back slightly, looking down at her because out of everything she said, I caught one thing that was good. “Your periods. You said they aren’t as bad now? That’s why you didn’t need the heating pad?”

Since she was seventeen, I’ve watched her be in complete agony during her periods. She’s one of the toughest people I know. Sicknesses have never slowed her down. Hell, she broke her ankle when we first got married and didn’t even cry. So, when her period came around and she was doubled over, crying in pain, I always knew it had to be bad. The stupid part is, she went to the doctor—numerous times—and voiced concerns about her cycles. They brushed her off every time.

She nods. “That’s the one good thing that came out of the pain. I was able to get surgery. And honestly, it’s helped me so much.” She stops, growing nervous. “And … my doctor told me that if I ever decide to try again, having the surgery might helpmy chances of getting pregnant too.” She shrugs shyly. “It’s a long shot, I’m sure. But it’s better than no shot at all, right?”

“Yeah,” I murmur, staring down at her in awe because after all that, she found the silver lining. “I should have been there, Paige.”

On one hand, I’m so fucking happy that she gets the chance to be optimistic and even happier that her pain is better. But then there’s that fucked-up part of my brain that reminds me she hasn’t given me an answer if she’s staying yet. And she’s still talking about having babies.

If anyone is going to put a baby in her, I want it to be me.

But you can’t because you’re fucking broken.

I curse inwardly at my inner voice, telling it to fuck off because I will get this woman back and I will give her the family she’s longing for.

“But you weren’t, and we can’t go back now.” She tilts her head to the side, giving me the tiniest smile. “I left willingly. You need to remember that.” She reaches up, cupping my cheeks. “We both messed up—royally. But if we keep talking about what we should have done, we’re never going to move on to what we should do.”

I let her words wash over me like a wave, realizing that maybe she is going to give me a shot after all.

“I know,” I utter before wincing. “I just … wish I had been next to you when you were told the news.”

She looks deep in thought. “I always knew something wasn’t right. It shouldn’t have come as a shock, but I guess actually hearing it from the doctor’s mouth made it real. And set it in stone that my body really was challenging me when it came to being a mom,” she says with a frail shrug.

She caresses my cheek gently with her thumb. “I’m sorry that you went through your own set of things, Kolt. It’s a shitty feeling when our hearts want something, but the rest of ourbody can’t deliver. But the good news is … we have a baseline now. Somewhere to start, right?” She smiles. “Maybe everything is happening exactly as it’s supposed to. Maybe … this is just another piece to our story. Even though it seems like a chapter we wish we could tear out.” She swallows. “Maybe, one day, we’ll look back and be thankful for these pages.”

“As long as, when I’m looking back, you’re beside me again … it’ll all be ok,” I croak, knowing that she isn’t going to give me an answer yet.

I know Paige, and when she comes to the decision of whether she’s going to stay or leave, it’s going to be after she’s looked at our relationship from all angles.

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