Page 112 of Bloodstained Wings

I push the laptop away and reach for my phone. Sam answers on the second ring, her voice muffled and breathless. “Have you seen the article?”

I stand up and run my fingers through my hair. “Sam, what the fuck am I going to do? I can’t bring a baby into this world. Seeing that article has driven the point home for me. I know Carter has been doing a better job of protecting me, of keeping his enemies away, but a baby isn’t the same.”

Sam exhales, and I hear a door opening and then closing. “Of course, it isn’t the same.”

I glance down at my stomach and swallow. “A baby is small and helpless, and he’s going to need me to protect him, to make the tough decisions that I don’t want to make.”

“Yes.”

I sink into the couch and squeeze my eyes shut. “What the hell am I going to do, Sam? I can’t leave Carter…”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter? I don’t want to. I love him. We’re engaged. We’re supposed to be getting married.”

Sam sighs. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but there’s a reason you called me. It’s because you want someone to tell you the words you don’t want to admit to yourself.”

My eyes fly open, and I clutch the phone tighter. “Which are?”

“You know you can’t bring a baby into Carter’s world,” Sam whispers, her voice catching toward the end. “I know it sucks, and I know you two have been through a lot together. I’m not saying you don’t love him, Isabella… but you do have to ask yourself if love is going to be enough for the baby.”

Because it’s not just me anymore.

I’m a grown-ass woman who knows what I’ve signed up for with Carter. But my baby hasn’t made that decision, and I can’t make it for him.

Iwon’t.

I scrub a hand over my face. “I need to think.”

Without waiting for a response, I hang up and carry the laptop with me upstairs. I take the stairs two at a time, barely registering anything around me until I reach our bedroom. There, I set the laptop down and clear the browser history. Then I take a suitcase out from under the bed and unzip it. When it’s open, I start throwing things into the bag haphazardly without realizing I’m crying.

I sniff and throw more clothes into the bag.

Halfway through packing, I perch on the edge of the bed and bury my face in my hands. The tears come more freely now, and my shoulders shake, but it’s like a dam has burst, and I can’t stop.

I’m not even sure I want to.

Because I know that I have to make the right decision for my baby, but I don’t want to leave Carter.

He’s my home and the only man I’ve ever loved.

Even if I had somewhere else to go, which I don’t, I can’t imagine leaving my beautiful, broken man behind.

Once the tears begin to subside, I drape an arm over my stomach and sink onto the floor. “What are we going to do, little bean? I already love you so much.”

And I can’t bear the thought of someone hurting my baby.

“Mommy is going to figure it out,” I whisper, pausing to stroke my stomach. My eyes dart listlessly around the room until they settle on the dresser and the music box on top of it. Slowly, I rise to my feet, pick the music box up, and wind it.

Soft music fills the room and eases away some of the sorrow and ache.

“You know, my mother had a music box like this,” I murmur, my gaze dropping back down to my stomach. “Every night, she used to wind it up and set it to play. We’d dance around the room together until we were breathless. And sometimes, my dad would join us and twirl my mom around.”

My lips lift into a half smile. “You would’ve loved your grandpa, Bean. And he would’ve loved you so much.”

I stop talking when I realize I’m crying and miss my father with a fierceness and ferocity that surprises me. Reluctantly, I sit back down on the bed and place the music box in the middle of the bag. I’m in the bathroom washing my face when I hear the front door open. Carter’s familiar footsteps fill the house as he races up the stairs.

In the doorway to the bathroom, I meet him, and my eyes widen when I see the blood all over his shirt and notice his pale, ashen color. “What happened? Are you okay?”

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