Page 45 of To Hate You

“Don’t say that.” I walked up to him, cupping his cheeks. “I love you. And I didn’t think it possible, but I love you even more right now.”

“It’s called sympathy.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not. I can’t sympathize with someone if I have no idea what they’re going through, and I will never pretend to know how fucking painful this is for you.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders, biting his bottom lip while his deep-blue eyes studied mine. “I’m so fucking glad your stubborn ass didn’t listen when I told you to stay away from me.”

I smiled. “I’m glad, too.”

“I love you, Sienna. And it scares the fuck out of me because love broke me once, and I’m still crippled by it.” He palmed my cheek, my heart about to fucking burst. “I can’t break again.”

A tear trickled down my cheek, and I took his hand, placing a desperate kiss in his palm. There were so many things I could have said, but nothing felt right. There were no words that compared to what I wanted to say, so I let the silence say it for me.

With a sigh, Noah inched back, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I've never told anyone about Evie before. The only people who know about her are the guys that've been with me since my marine days. Other than that, it's like Evie never existed.”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“Not anymore. I used to have a lot on my phone. Pictures I'd scroll through every goddamn night. It was supposed to get better, easier to deal with. But it didn't. One night I got drunk, pissed out of my fucking mind.” His eyes found mine. “I sat with a gun against my head for three fucking hours that night. I was ready to pull the trigger, ready to be rid of the pain that was constantly there. It was in the middle of the fucking summer, the heat grueling and humid. But just as I decided to end it,” he glanced down at the ground, “it started to rain, and I mean like a heavy downpour. I took that as my sign that no matter what, I would keep my promise.”

He slipped his hands halfway into his pants pockets. “That night, I deleted every single picture I had of her, thinking if I somehow forget her face, it would be easier to survive the pain.”

“Is it? Easier?”

He lightly shook his head. “No—especially since the image of her face is engraved in my soul.”

“I wish you would have told me sooner.”

“What?” He sat down beside me. “That I once lived the American dream with a wife, a child, a house and white picket fence? That my job, what I chose to do for a living cost me my daughter? Besides, you weren’t supposed to happen, remember?” he teased with a half-grin, but I was overcome with so many emotions it was hard to get past it. It overflowed inside me, and my thoughts skipped from one thing to the other, flipping channels so fast it all turned to static.

“I just…It’s something I can’t fathom, this world you’re talking about. A world where men could kill innocent little children without blinking.” I cut my panicked gaze to his. “I can't wrap my head around it. What type of revenge is worth a little girl's life? What kind of monsters kill kids?”

Oh, God.

I placed my hand on my belly, clutching the fabric between my fingers as the penny dropped, reality slithering in like a snake ready to strike. I was pregnant with Noah’s child. These people were still after him. After me. If they took his daughter’s life right in front of him, they wouldn’t think twice of killing me.

My baby.

The room started to spin, the lights creating halos across the walls. My skin heated; my palms clammy as panic crawled from my feet, up my legs and invading my stomach, reaching my lungs with its black claws.

Noah had to know. I had to tell him so he knew the risk, so he knew what was on the line.

It was no longer about me. About him. About us.

It’s about our baby.

No. No. No.

It was happening again. That feeling of impending doom filled my lungs like smoke, leaving no place for air. I was having another panic attack, just like the night at Andrew’s party. I could feel it squeezing tighter and tighter, this tremendous weight of terror rushing over me. It was like the ground beneath my feet would open at any moment and swallow me whole, my entire world disappearing.

I rushed toward the window, trying to open it so I could get some air, but it wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t get it open, and I needed to breathe. “Could you...could you open the window?” I sounded like someone who had just completed a marathon, trying to catch my breath while every muscle in my body was pulled taut.

“Sienna, what’s happening?” He stood next to me.

“I need…I need to breathe.”

“Are you okay?” He unlatched the window and pushed it open, the icy cold air slicing across my cheeks.

I grabbed the windowsill, his words repeating over and over inside my head.

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