Gambled - A Titan Novella by Cristin Harber Page B

“What’s the emergency? You said a kid?”
    “The shit that nightmares are made of. At least mine.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if I said no to this job.”
    “Brock…” She wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t don’t go. Because if a kid needed help, who was she to say no? And if she listened to her jumbled feelings, there was more than a smidgeon of pride. He helped people. Saved lives. Took out the bad guys.
    But then the cold panic arrived, falling down her back. Just like she knew would happen. Bad guys were the problem. Not just that her husband could get hurt, or even be killed, but… dang that choking feeling of being overwhelmed. That tension and stress. She tried to swallow a dry lump, suddenly blanking on how to breathe.
    Brock ran his hands over his thighs then looked out the window. The sun was setting over the water. “I have to.”
    He got off the bed and pulled her up and into a hug. She couldn’t move her muscles. They’d turned to concrete, and she was sinking into the floor. Drowning in her concerns, her memories. But he didn’t know. Maybe he’d worried about her reaction, but from his encapsulating hug, he couldn’t tell that fear and anxiety had taken control of her mind and limbs.
    “Angel? Sarah? You okay?”
    No. She wasn’t okay. But she couldn’t make the words come out.
    Her heart raced in a bad way, and she felt hot around her neck, her chest, her… She gasped a breath.
    “Sarah?” Brock held her in outstretched arms.
    Oh, no. She was going to pass out. The room tilted. Her tongue turned thick, and not moving of her own accord, she found her legs giving out and her husband putting her in a chair. He smoothed her hair, told her to breathe. Told her to look into his eyes. Focus on him.
    And she did.
    He was unwavering in strength. Strong, solid, and dependable.
    A breath floated into her lungs. Followed by another. And another. She got the hang of it again, blinked against her reaction, her embarrassment, her unshed tears.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Her voice broke; she couldn’t finish her apology.
    “No worries.” He stroked her hair, smoothing it behind her ears. “I’m not going anywhere, angel. It’s okay. You’re my world. You and the girls. That’s it.”
    Guilt swished the bile in her stomach. Brock had said a kid. She didn’t want her selfish reactions or his pity. Her head shook, undoing the hairs he’d tucked off her cheeks. “But it’s an emergency. With a kid.”
    He dropped to a crouch between her knees and stared up at her. “Don’t care.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Tell you what?”
    “What the emergency is.”
    “It’s someone else’s problem, angel.”
    His face lied to her while he tried his best to convince her with soothing words and consoling gestures.
    “I’m stronger than this.” She inhaled through her nose, out through her mouth, channeling every yoga video she’d ever owned. The word kid echoed in her head. “Tell me the emergency. What were you going to do? Where were you going to go? I’m never going to heal if I run from the challenges.”
    “Sarah, we’re eliminating those challenges. I’m not going into the field anymore if this is what it does to you. I can’t. I won’t, considering what I just saw happen to my wife. Fuck no.”
    “What did Jared ask you to do?” Her head pounded. “Please, I need to know.”
    He shook his head. “Hell no. Can’t do it. Let me handle the dark stuff and—”
    Grasping his hands, she squeezed as much for the details as for support. “I’ll assume the worst.”
    “You can’t imagine the worst. Let it go. You don’t need to know about the things I know. I want to protect you. Need to. Don’t you get that?”
    A swell of passion surged in her chest, materializing through her arms and fists. She pushed him back and stood up. “Stop protecting me.”
    “But—”
    “Tell me the emergency, Brock. Tell me because I need to know. Because I