Page 52 of Sin and Redemption

Maximus’s uncomprehending expression revealed he had no clue why it mattered. “It’s both delicious.”

“Mom taught me to prepare carbonara with guanciale, and I prefer it that way.” I got cooking, and the dish was ready to be eaten within fifteen minutes. I loved the easy nature of it. Not everything needed to be complicated and fancy. Sometimes beauty was in simplicity.

Sitting across from each other, Maximus and I dug in. Surprisingly, I managed to eat more now that it seemed to serve a purpose. Well, another purpose except to keep me alive…

“It’s absolutely delicious,” Maximus said as he filled his plate with another serving. I’d quickly learned that he ate for two, which wasn’t surprising considering the muscle mass he had to maintain.

I nodded. “Are you mad that it didn’t work out right away?” I wasn’t sure why I returned to the topic. Maybe because the eating-for-two thought had brought back the reality of my current situation.

Maximus put down his fork and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation.”

I pursed my lips, wondering if there really was a difference. “Because it means we’ll have to be intimate again.”

“Because I don’t want a repeat performance of last time.”

I flushed. It had been bad for me, but I hadn’t thought Maximus hated it that much.

I felt mortified, just like I had afterward in the cell when I’d seen Maximus’s disgusted expression. It had reflected the feelings I harbored for myself at that moment.

I ran my finger along the rim of the plate, trying to compose myself.

I really wished Sara wouldn’t have brought it up again. I wished she were pregnant and we could move on.

“Once I’m pregnant, you won’t have to touch me again.”

Half the time, Sara’s words didn’t make sense to me. I could tell she was upset, though. She couldn’t even look at me. Instead, she studied the plate in front of her as if it held the answer to all of our problems. “You make it sound as if I had a problem with touching you. I have a problem with how things are going, not you.”

“You couldn’t even look at me afterward,” she whispered harshly, casting her eyes up. I half wished she hadn’t because the hurt in them was a punch in the throat.

It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to, and when I did, my stomach tightened to a stone. She thought I had been disgusted by her? Why the fuck should I have felt anything but burning guilt when looking at her broken form?

“I couldn’t look at you because I felt fucking guilty. Because I felt like a fucking rapist. Fuck, because I was one.”

She froze, her finger still resting on the plate. “You didn’t want to do it.”

“What kind of difference does it make?” I roared, pushing to my feet because I felt ready to combust. I had left work early and handed the debtor off to my father for further handling. Now I wished I had just kept kicking his sorry ass. “My actions speak for themselves, don’t they?”

“It makes a world of difference, Maximus!” Sara said, slapping the tabletop, suddenly angry for some reason. “We were both victims.”

I gripped the backrest of the chair. I wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same event. I had to force myself on you.”

“You had to. And I gave you the okay because I knew you didn’t have a choice, just like I didn’t.”

I stared at her, at a loss. She seemed to believe everything she had said. How could her version of the events be so different from mine? “But you’ve acted like you don’t want me close since we got married.”

“Because you reminded me of what happened and of my helplessness. You could do something to work through the trauma. You hunted those men and killed them. You acted. I felt like I did nothing, or at best, reacted.”

Did she really think I had gotten past the trauma of that day? “You survived a horrible thing. That’s not nothing, Sara. And you had a lot to process, even afterward. The pregnancy…” I still didn’t like talking about her losing our baby because that too felt like it was my fault. I hadn’t wanted the child, hadn’t wanted a reminder, and our unborn child had died, almost as if my thoughts had been strong enough to kill it. I’d avoided the oak tree for that very reason, to avoid being faced with memories. Like a coward. I hated being one, so I had begun the process of having the tree tattooed into my back. That way, I’d never be able to escape again.

“Sometimes I think that it’s my fault our baby died…” She swallowed thickly. “That because I was so caught up in my trauma, I couldn’t show it that I still wanted it. That I didn’t love it enough because of what happened and that it just left because of that.”

I shook my head, feeling completely at a loss. I leaned more heavily on the backrest. I couldn’t believe that she’d harbored the same feelings of guilt as I had. Hearing those thoughts aloud from her lips made far less sense than in my head. “Nobody would have blamed you if you’d not chosen to keep this pregnancy.” She gave me a look that made it clear that wasn’t true, and she was probably right. “But you did choose to keep the pregnancy, so even if you were struggling with what happened, the baby knew you wanted it. And pregnancy losses are common. It’s rarely anyone’s fault, Sara. You heard what the doctors said.”

“I know, but it can be hard to see facts if it’s your baby. If I ever get pregnant again, I’ll do everything right.”

I bridged the distance between us and touched her shoulder. Fuck, I wanted to pull her into my arms. She peered up at me with those soulful, always melancholic eyes. “You did nothing wrong last time either. Maybe you should consider talking to someone professional about your feelings.”

I was the last person who’d ever go to a psychiatrist to work through the traumatic shit I’d witnessed and done in my life, but maybe they could help Sara. I didn’t want her to carry this kind of guilt.

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