Page 49 of Claimed By Rage

If that’s true, then no matter what I do, I’ll always be a bad mother. I’ll have doomed my child before they even take their first breath. My chest constricts as the idea settles deep inside, weighing me down. I sink further into my chair, no longer battling the depression looming in the back of my brain.

I let it wash over me in full force.

My phone chimes loudly in the empty room. It takes me a minute to muster the strength to move. When I do, it’s in slow motion. I set my wine glass down on the coffee table and take several deep breaths, each one longer than the last. Then, I wrap my favorite throw blanket—the fuzzy one with silver hearts—around my shoulders and pluck my phone out of my lap.

The text message is from Rage.

Of course it is.

I have to read it a few times before my brain processes what it actually says. I’d forgotten the question already.

RAGE:

I only want children with you.

My breath hitches as I imagine the timbre of his voice rumbling in my ear. Hasn’t he said that before? I sift through all of our conversations, but before I can come up with the answer, my phone chimes again.

REBEL:

i want 6 kids minimum

so I can chase them around the house

it’ll be fun

(thumbs up emoji) ????

RAGE:

How many children do you want, Celia?

He isn’t askingifI want children, onlyhow many.Shit, didn’t I tell him once that I didn’t want kids? Is it too late to shut this conversation down? I clench my eyes shut and take another breath, unable to block out the ache thrumming through my body. I want my own kids.Desperately.My heart flutters inside my chest as I imagine a house full of them, all different ages, like we’re on the set ofCheaper by the Dozen. Up until recently, I’ve always been close to my brother, and I’d want my children to have siblings they can rely on.

Six might be too many. Maybe four. A girl and three boys. Or two girls and two boys. But I’d be happy with only one.

okay, two

siblings are important

RUIN:

(smiley face emoji) ??

The irony of Ruin’s text isn’t lost on me. I’ve never seen the man’s smile, let alone his face.

REBEL:

miss u baby

I type backmiss you toobut catch myself before hitting send. Ican’tmiss Rebel… or any of them. Locking my phone and shoving it under a throw pillow, I pick myself up from the barrel chair in my living room and leave my wine glass on the table. It’s empty, but I’ll clean it up tomorrow. Same with the blanket I leave piled on the chair.

Tomorrow, I’ll put everything back to normal.

For tonight, I want to lie in bed and imagine how many children can fit under one roof. Which ones have dimples when they smile. Dark, unkempt hair no matter how often they brush it. Deep ocean eyes, capable of taking in an entire room with one glance.

And a mother who loves them all, no matter the sins of their mother… or their father.

Chapter 15

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