Page 53 of Anchor

My tears fall, unable to stop them, as she looks over my face, and I don’t know what makes her ask, “I lost the baby, didn’t I?”

I nod slightly, and tears pour from her beautiful eyes before she trembles, and she places her hand on her stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Angel, so goddamn, sorry,” I choke out, and her cries shake her frame.

I lean over her, pressing my forehead against hers. She grips my shoulder with her other hand, sobbing her heart out at our loss, and guilt consumes me for putting her in this predicament to begin with, for messing with her birth control pills instead of just kidnapping her like Steal did with Cass.

This pain she’s going through, the hurt, I’m never going to fucking forgive myself for it, just like I know she’ll never forgive me.

21

Heaven – One Week Later

I sigh as I eye the wedding ring on my finger.

I’m not sure when he put it back on, well, obviously, I wouldn’t know as I was in a coma for a month, but when I woke alone in a hospital room all confused, there it was, staring back at me, and everything came back.

My husband cheated.

We’re doing couples therapy after ten years.

I was falling in love with the man he became while still holding onto the love of the man he was before he cheated.

A guy clutching his chest drove toward me, and I pushed Micha out of the way.

I lost our baby….

I slowly rub my thumb underneath my ring, the metal feeling weird after ten years of not wearing it, my gaze on the hospital room window.

I didn’t even know he still had the ring, yet here it is, back on my finger, and I feel so confused and conflicted.

I love my husband, and I know we were working on things, but am I ready to wear the ring again?

I sigh, I’m currently in a wheelchair, waiting for Travis to get here. I’m not sure if he knows I’m being discharged, but honestly, I couldn’t stay in that bed any longer, anyway.

My muscles ache, and my legs are sore, and not just because of the accident but because I’ve been still for the past month. You’d think I’d be fit as a fiddle after weeks of sleeping, but nope. I have no energy, but at least my cast is off my hand; I'm now only wearing a small brace.

I hear rustling near my door and look just as it opens. Of course, my pulse spikes, knowing exactly who it is, and my skin tingles like it does every time he is near.

Is it any wonder why I could never move on with another man?

My husband is wearing a tight black shirt, my name in full view on his forearm, his cut, and a pair of jeans, with his biker boots. He looks handsome as ever, even with some of the bruises still lingering on his face.

“Your face looks better,” I say as Travis walks into the room, causing his head to snap up. His brows furrow, seeing that I’m in a wheelchair.

According to Steal, who has come to see me every day since I woke to ensure I don’t leave my husband again, Travis has been letting men kick the crap outta him at The Fight.

Safe to say, I was pissed, and still am, I just haven’t got the energy to have it out with him yet, though it is funny to keep bringing it up and watching him try and dodge the questions.

“Why are you in a wheelchair?” he asks, ignoring my remarks regarding his face yet again.

“Why have you been fighting?” I retort, knowing full well that I need him to open up to me again, but instead, he scowls my way.

“The chair, Heaven?” he snaps.

“Oh, so we have VP Anchor today,” I chirp back, hoping to snap him out of his funk.

The man has been the biggest grouch since I woke up, but instead smiling or smirking, he growls, anger flowing off him—but just for a second, I see it before it disappears again.

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