take on someone’s battles for them. The only other person I’d ever fought for was Colin. That won’t be happening anymore. I lost that battle.
After he died, I figured that was it. Stick to your own wars. Everyone’s fighting something, and without any family left, I never pictured myself as a knight in shining armor. I still know I’m nothing even close to that, but there’s this niggling little feeling that’s saying the same thing over and over to me: Protect her. Keep her safe.
I find myself agreeing with it. I almost have to stop myself from nodding, from saying yes out loud. It’s true though; I do want to protect her. I want to see her vulnerable, pregnant with my child, looking up at me with that trust and longing in her eyes as I stare back down and tell her, “Yes. You’re safe. You’re mine.”
I just wonder how realistic that is. In a career path like mine, death is just one misunderstanding away. I’m already beating the odds by being alive at thirty. The fact that I’m still on this side of the dirt is nothing short of a miracle. I’m running out of time to bring that vision to life. But when I see that vision again, it’s powerful enough to make my heart clench: Kendra, belly rounded, leaning her head on my shoulder.
I take a sip of whiskey to make it disappear. I need to focus on one thing at a time.
“How are you feeling?”
She takes a while to respond. “I’m not really sure.”
Damn, she is beautiful. That caramel skin catches the light just right. I bet it tastes just as good as it looks.
“That’s fair.”
“None of this is fair.”
“That’s fair, too.”
She snorts at that. Just a hint of a laugh, but it’s progress.
She looks up at me for the first time since we sat down. “How did I end up in this mess?” Her voice is so soft and scared. She’s like a little doe, all on its own. By the look in her eyes, I can still see she’s deciding whether I’m a fellow deer or the big bad wolf. I’m not sure what I could tell her, to be honest. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle.
“You tell me,” I say. “Start in the beginning.”
“That’s so far back.”
“We’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Do we, though?” She gnaws her lip.
“Didn’t I promise you?” The way I say this is so important. I need her to know that she is safe here. I will protect her. I’m still torn on what exactly I want to do with her, although a plan is forming in my head as she sits across from me and sips daintily at the whiskey. But no matter what I decide, I made a promise and I intend to keep it.
She doesn’t say anything for a while. It’s hard to tell what gears are working behind those eyes. I have to trust that they’re the right ones. Eventually, she starts talking. She keeps her gaze on the liquor in the glass, swirling it back and forth while she speaks.
“I just wanted to make art. They told me I was good when I was in school, and honestly, I was. I had such a good imagination and it made me so happy to do it. That’s what really counts, you know? If you love what you do, good things come from it. I believe that. Well,” her voice catches as she pauses, “I used to believe it, anyway. I’m not so sure anymore.”
I see one tear leaking down her cheek. Fuck the bastard who ruined this girl. She has so much spark in her. It’s a fucking crime what Grady did. I want to tell her it’ll be okay, but if I interrupt, she might never open up again. I have to let her keep going. She needs the space to tell the story herself.
“I took out huge loans to buy this studio space. You saw it—it looks out over the water and the light in there is perfect. It’s just so perfect, I can’t even explain.” She looks up at me now. I see that her eyes are full of tears. They start to spill over and run down her cheeks like a river. “You have to understand me; it
After he died, I figured that was it. Stick to your own wars. Everyone’s fighting something, and without any family left, I never pictured myself as a knight in shining armor. I still know I’m nothing even close to that, but there’s this niggling little feeling that’s saying the same thing over and over to me: Protect her. Keep her safe.
I find myself agreeing with it. I almost have to stop myself from nodding, from saying yes out loud. It’s true though; I do want to protect her. I want to see her vulnerable, pregnant with my child, looking up at me with that trust and longing in her eyes as I stare back down and tell her, “Yes. You’re safe. You’re mine.”
I just wonder how realistic that is. In a career path like mine, death is just one misunderstanding away. I’m already beating the odds by being alive at thirty. The fact that I’m still on this side of the dirt is nothing short of a miracle. I’m running out of time to bring that vision to life. But when I see that vision again, it’s powerful enough to make my heart clench: Kendra, belly rounded, leaning her head on my shoulder.
I take a sip of whiskey to make it disappear. I need to focus on one thing at a time.
“How are you feeling?”
She takes a while to respond. “I’m not really sure.”
Damn, she is beautiful. That caramel skin catches the light just right. I bet it tastes just as good as it looks.
“That’s fair.”
“None of this is fair.”
“That’s fair, too.”
She snorts at that. Just a hint of a laugh, but it’s progress.
She looks up at me for the first time since we sat down. “How did I end up in this mess?” Her voice is so soft and scared. She’s like a little doe, all on its own. By the look in her eyes, I can still see she’s deciding whether I’m a fellow deer or the big bad wolf. I’m not sure what I could tell her, to be honest. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle.
“You tell me,” I say. “Start in the beginning.”
“That’s so far back.”
“We’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Do we, though?” She gnaws her lip.
“Didn’t I promise you?” The way I say this is so important. I need her to know that she is safe here. I will protect her. I’m still torn on what exactly I want to do with her, although a plan is forming in my head as she sits across from me and sips daintily at the whiskey. But no matter what I decide, I made a promise and I intend to keep it.
She doesn’t say anything for a while. It’s hard to tell what gears are working behind those eyes. I have to trust that they’re the right ones. Eventually, she starts talking. She keeps her gaze on the liquor in the glass, swirling it back and forth while she speaks.
“I just wanted to make art. They told me I was good when I was in school, and honestly, I was. I had such a good imagination and it made me so happy to do it. That’s what really counts, you know? If you love what you do, good things come from it. I believe that. Well,” her voice catches as she pauses, “I used to believe it, anyway. I’m not so sure anymore.”
I see one tear leaking down her cheek. Fuck the bastard who ruined this girl. She has so much spark in her. It’s a fucking crime what Grady did. I want to tell her it’ll be okay, but if I interrupt, she might never open up again. I have to let her keep going. She needs the space to tell the story herself.
“I took out huge loans to buy this studio space. You saw it—it looks out over the water and the light in there is perfect. It’s just so perfect, I can’t even explain.” She looks up at me now. I see that her eyes are full of tears. They start to spill over and run down her cheeks like a river. “You have to understand me; it
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