Page 19 of The Ties That Bind

She laughed gleefully and swatted at my arm. “Be nice to them. They’re my favorite shoes.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I said, already forgetting them as my eyes roved over her, took in the beauty that was Arabella Wilson.

As I traced my rough, calloused hand over the rise of her belly, my heart stopped beating and my stomach clenched when I felt the invisible marks where her skin had stretched to accommodate our baby. Lily, I thought, her name a painful whisper in my soul. When I leaned forward to trace my lips over each one, Arabella sucked in a strangled gasp above me.

“Please don’t be gentle with me,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Don’t go down that road Xander. Please.”

I raised my head and stared up the length of her body. Our eyes locked and held and I saw so, so much in those orbs. I saw the life we could have had together if only we had been different people, I saw the pain she’d suffered when she lost our baby, and I saw my own pain and anguish reflected back at me. She blinked and her tears spilled forth as she rushed to scrub the wetness from her cheeks.

I dropped my face forward to rub the softness of my new beard over her skin. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against her belly before placing a kiss on each jagged, pearlescent line.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered. “It was mine. My body failed me.”

“Shh,” I intoned, sliding up next to her and putting my finger to her lips. “I hope you don’t believe that.”

She laughed cynically. “It’s hard to say what I believe anymore.”

I sat on my knees in front of her, my strong thighs trapping her there. Wiping her remnant tears away with the pad of my thumb, I whispered, “I know what I believe, what I never stopped believing. I believe you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Arabella rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

I pushed my hands into her hair and leaned close, our lips almost touching. “No, I don’t,” I answered emphatically. “I’ve never seen anyone quite like you.” I placed a whisper light kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I’m supposed to hate you, and lord knows I tried, but I just … can’t.” I dropped another kiss to the other side. “You took a tragedy that could have beaten you and you rose above it.”

Arabella turned her head and laid her lips against the faint white scars that crisscrossed my wrists. “So did you,” she breathed against my pulse.

My head dropped forward and our foreheads touched. “No, I didn’t,” I replied solemnly. “I let it beat me. I’m who I am—what I am—because of it. I’ve spent the rest of my life fighting against your family because of what your father took from us.”

“You have to let that anger go, Zan,” she sighed. “Yes, he sent me away and that was terrible, but I would have lost the baby regardless.” Her breathing hitched and when she pulled back, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “The doctors said …”

When she hesitated and then broke eye contact, I turned her face back to me. “What, Bell? What did they say?”

Suddenly I felt like what came out of her mouth next would be the most important thing I’d ever know, the most impactful words I’d ever hear.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this since we both know this isn’t going anywhere. It shouldn’t matter.”

“Everything about you matters,” I told her. “You know that.”

She huffed out a frustrated breath. “I can’t have kids, all right?” Her words were bitter, laced with anger and resentment. “The reality is, I never would have been able to carry her to term,” she sighed, defeated. “They said if I could have carried her for another two months, she might have lived. She’d have been a preemie, but maybe …”

Arabella shrugged, trying to put on a brave face but I knew better. Learning that she couldn’t have kids would have torn her up. She’d always said the only thing she really wanted to be when she “grew up” was a wife and mother. She’d wanted a big, loud, boisterous family … and she’d wanted it with me.

“Is that why you pushed me away?” I asked, realization dawning. “Why you cut me out of your life?”

It all made sense now.

“I did what I thought was right. I set you free.”

“Except you didn’t!” I proclaimed, my voice rising. “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you, wondered where it all went wrong. I couldn’t move on, goddamnit. It was always you, and you pushed me away in some misguided notion about protecting my feelings … but you didn’t protect me. You broke me.”

She gasped and her hand rose to cover her mouth.

“You broke me,” I whispered less forcefully.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

I rolled away and threw my legs over the side of the bed, dropped forward, and buried my face in my hands. I’d never given voice to these feelings, never wanted to acknowledge them out loud. I’d always known I was broken, but somehow I’d been able to lay the blame on my father, telling myself that I would have been a different sort of man if only I’d been born to another family. That the only reason I was like this was because I’d lived among thieves and criminals my entire life. That I could turn off my emotions and be the cold-blooded killer my family needed because it was in my blood. That I was a St. John through and through and that no matter what I might have thought I wanted, I couldn’t escape who I’d been born.

But now I saw none of that was true. I’d wanted to be a better man. I’d dreamed of it with the woman by my side. I’d thought we could escape. Hell, I’d planned for it. So when she’d said goodbye, her desertion had crushed me.

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