Tears streamed down my face as my chest heaved with a broken sob. Katie’s arms came around me and tightened as my knees gave out and I slid down the wall, taking her with me. My head fell to her shoulder. “I’m not,” I whispered. “I’m not okay.”

Chapter 29

I finally slept.

There really was no other option for me. I’d cried myself sick, into dry heaves, and I cried myself into a mindless exhaustion that could only be cured by climbing into my bed. I don’t know how long I slept, but waking up was like dragging myself out of gritty quicksand. My eyes, swollen and weary, felt plastered shut, and I wasn’t ready to attempt to peel them open and face reality, face the loss of a future I hadn’t known how badly I wanted until it was gone. And face the ugly truth that my insecurities concerning my relationship with Nick, valid or not, had led me to make selfish, cowardly choices when it came to involving him in what was happening. I also just didn’t . . . didn’t want to see him hurt, and trying to protect him from that had backfired.

I loved him and I had hurt him even more.

Like a ghost, the image of those tiny shoes Nick and I had looked at while Christmas tree shopping formed in my head, and the pain rose, sharp and seemingly never-ending. In that moment, I was never more grateful for the fact that I hadn’t started shopping for anything baby related. I wasn’t sure if I could bear having to return onesies or pack them away. The ultrasound picture on the fridge had been difficult enough to see.

Every cell in my body felt like I’d been through the wringer, and I really had. The last thing I wanted to do was get up, but I needed to because of what my body was going through. As I lay there telling myself to get up, I slowly became aware of another presence in the room.

A very close presence, like in the same bed with me. I could hear the steady breaths. While I wouldn’t have been surprised if Katie climbed into bed with me, I had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t her. My skin tingled as I breathed in deeply, catching a fresh scent tinged with pine.

My heart skipped a beat. The scent . . . the scent was so familiar, so right.

I held my breath as I forced my eyes to crack open, and exhaled roughly once my vision adjusted to the low light filtering in from the hallway outside the open bedroom door.

Lying in the bed beside me, on his back, was Nick.

I still had to be asleep.

Nick turned his head toward mine. Even with the lack of light, I could see the dark shadows under his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “You’re awake.”

Unable to get my tongue off the roof of my mouth, I started to sit up. Nick rose alongside me, his gaze never leaving my face. “Katie had Roxy call me. It’s just us.”

My head was still fuzzy with sleep and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Do you need help?” was his immediate response.

I shook my head. “I . . .” I was at a loss for words as I stared at him.

“I’ll be waiting for you here, okay?” he said, voice low. “You need anything, yell, and I’ll be there.”

Pressure tightened around my chest, and I forced myself out of the bed before I lost it all over again. I shuffled to the bathroom and took care of the necessary stuff. Before leaving, I stopped long enough to splash cold water over my face and to pull my now gross hair back.

Nick was here.

He’d come back even after I’d kicked him out.

He was here.

Throat constricting, I glanced at my reflection and saw that I looked like a wreck, but I knew there was nothing I could do about that. What I looked like was the least important thing right now.

I ambled back to the bedroom, feeling like I’d aged fifty years, but seeing Nick propped against the headboard was like receiving a shot of adrenaline. Nervousness and the sweet anticipation always tied to him battled it out as I made my way to the bed, sitting down near his legs.

Nick had turned on the nightstand lamp while I was in the bathroom, and now I could fully see him. A thick stubble covered his jaw and chin, and those dark shadows under his eyes were stark. His shirt, the same one he had worn yesterday when I saw him, was wrinkled. His hair was a mess, and he looked just as bad as I felt.

His chest rose with a deep breath. “I know you don’t want me here,” he stated, and before I could respond, he forged on. “But I’m going to be right here. It took everything in me yesterday to walk out of that door and I don’t have it in me anymore to do it again. Not after knowing what you’ve been going through and seeing you now. I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t be alone and it should be me who’s here for you.”

I lowered my gaze as I pulled my legs up, curling them under me. “It’s not that I didn’t want you here, Nick. That’s not the case at all.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m going to be real honest with you, Stephanie, that’s exactly how it came across yesterday.”

How could I explain what I was feeling and where my head was at when it was in so many places and everything was so raw? There were so many words, so many things I could say, and yet I couldn’t grasp one strong thought. It was like trying to catch the rain.

Yesterday I had pushed for a confrontation, but today, right now, all I wanted was his arms to be around me. All I wanted was to be held. All I wanted was to be with the one person who shared the same pain I was experiencing.

I lifted my gaze, and Nick’s face blurred as a wave of fresh tears rose.

He tilted his head to the side and his voice cracked when he spoke. “Come here.”

My body moved before my brain fully registered the words. I scrambled over his legs as he sat up, his arms open and reaching for me. I climbed right into his lap, planting my face against his chest as I all but fused my body to his.

Nick’s reaction was immediate. He buried one hand in my messy ponytail, and my knees bent on either side of me as his other arm circled my waist, curving his body into mine. It was like he was caging himself around me, and those tears that had welled up spilled free. I almost couldn’t believe there were any left in me, but the sobs rose again, and they were so powerful they shook my body—shook his as he held on.

“That’s good. That’s good,” he kept saying, over and over. “It’s all right not to be okay. I’m not okay either. I’m not.”

And he wasn’t. I could feel his body trembling, and as I curled my fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck, guilt and anguish tangled together, forming a poisonous knot. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stephanie, baby, please don’t apologize.” His voice did that breaking thing again, killing me. “What happened isn’t your fault. You know that, right? This wasn’t your fault.”

I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing for losing the baby or for how I treated him during it. Or maybe I was apologizing for both things.

And then he said it. “You’re breaking my heart, Stephanie. Stop apologizing. It’s ripping me apart.”

You’re going to break his heart.

My grip on him tightened. It wasn’t losing the baby. It wasn’t even the way I had acted. It was this. Damn. Katie really was psychic.

We held on, becoming each other’s anchor, and we shared that pain. Time became something that happened in the background. I had no idea how much of it passed before I opened my eyes and the only tears left were those that clung to my eyelashes. His arms had stopped trembling and his chin rested atop my head as one hand trailed up and down my back, the caress soothing and grounding.