Authors: A. L. Jackson
She was what made me complete. She was what made me right.
“How’d we get this lucky, Elizabeth?”
She touched my face and slowly shook her head. “I have no idea…but I’m not going to let it go.”
Two Weeks Later
Elizabeth was on her knees on the bathroom floor. For what had to have been the tenth time in the last thirty minutes, she vomited. Her entire body trembled and shook as she purged the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She squeezed her eyes shut, her back arching as she lifted up higher on her knees and gasped for a breath.
I swept back the hair matted to her forehead, lifted it from her neck that was drenched with sweat.
God, this was complete torture. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so helpless in my life. All I wanted was to fix her, to make her better, to take it away.
And I couldn’t do a goddamned thing.
She gulped for air before she lurched forward and heaved again. This time, nothing came up. An indistinct whine fumbled from her mouth as her muscles clenched and strained, and she
gripped the edge of the toilet as her body fought to expel something that just wasn’t there.
With a heavy sigh, I placed a kiss to her temple. “Hold on a second.”
Harshly she nodded, and I climbed to my feet. Grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet, I ran it under cool water and wrung it out. My footsteps were subdued as I shuffled back to her.
I knelt down beside her. “Here,” I whispered, wishing to find anything that would soothe her, even in the slightest way.
She felt miserable, and it caused me physical pain to see it.
That pain contorted my face with sympathy when I hooked my index finger under her chin and drew her face toward me.
Shit
.
She looked awful…and beautiful.
How was that even possible?
I swept the cloth over the moisture gathered on her brow. Elizabeth whimpered, and her eyes fell closed as she allowed me to take care of her. I dabbed the cloth gently at the chapped skin of her lips.
“I hate that you’re going through this,” I murmured as I flipped the cloth around and ran it over the back of her neck.
For a moment she sagged, a moment’s reprieve, before another roll of nausea hit her. She pitched forward. She strained, every muscle in her body stretched thin, her stomach constricting as she gagged. Nothing came up except for the agonized moan that tore from her throat. A stream of tears slicked down her face, cries she couldn’t contain.
I brushed the bangs from her face and placed a supporting hand at the base of her head. “Is there anything I can do?”
She swallowed hard. Her voice was all raspy, like maybe it was hard just to speak. “Just don’t leave me.”
A smile fluttered at my mouth, and my thumb caressed the soft skin of her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
I’d barely left her side in two days. I’d stood, or rather knelt beside her, when the effects of the pregnancy had suddenly taken hold. It’d seemed almost a shock because, two nights ago, we’d gone to sleep with her feeling completely fine—feeling good was what she’d said—and it wasn’t four hours later that she’d jumped out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Shocked from sleep and gripped by fear, I fumbled out of the tangled sheets and rushed into the bathroom where I found her on the floor, her body sick with the strain the child growing within her caused.
In the last two days, it hadn’t let up.
Honestly, it scared me, watching her suffer this way. In the few minutes I’d found to sneak away, I’d been on my phone, researching if this was normal, and if it was, what we could do about it.
Of course, there was no shortage of suggestions, a mess of folklore and superstition that I wasn’t about to test out on my future wife. Dotted in between were the few remedies that possibly seemed legitimate.
But basically, we had to wait it out.
She frowned. “Don’t look at me like that.”
I felt one form in return. “How am I looking at you?”
She almost smiled. “Like if I throw up one more time, you might have a meltdown.”
I chuckled lightly. “That obvious, huh?”
This time, she managed a smile, and she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “It’s really not as bad this time,
Christian,” she mumbled in what I could only assume was supposed to be some kind of reassurance.
It did nothing to allay my concern, only inflamed the residual guilt that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Seeing her like this brought so much to light, uncovered all those things that I’d never borne witness to, things buried in the unknowns of Elizabeth’s life when I’d been absent.
Yeah, I had a vague sense of what she’d gone through. She’d described it, but when a person isn’t there to witness suffering, it’s hard to comprehend it. But to cause her to quit school, I knew it had to have been bad. That knowledge had been a huge blow to me, struck me deep and beat me down. I mean, God, I’d left her alone to go through all of that by herself.
The truth was, though, I really didn’t know what she’d suffered. I just had no clue.
Now I was getting the idea.
Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and she jerked back to the toilet. Her knees dug into the floor as she held herself up. She strained and moaned and begged for something to give.
My heart hurt a little more.
God, this was awful.
But not for a second did Elizabeth complain. She just took it in stride, attributed it to something her body required of her in return for the child it protected.
I would never cease to be amazed by her.
“I’m going to run downstairs to get you some water. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Do you need anything else? Crackers or something?”
So maybe crackers were about the only thing I’d seen on my search that I’d be inclined to suggest Elizabeth put in her body. I wasn’t willing to take the chance—not on her or the baby.
“No, I’m okay.”
I hesitated.
“Honestly, Christian…I’ve been through this before.”
Nodding, I turned and rushed downstairs, led by the muted nightlights Elizabeth had set up for Lizzie in case she woke up in the middle of the night.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cool water. An uncontainable yawn escaped me. Exhaustion threatened. On instinct, my gaze traveled to the clock on the microwave that taunted me with the sleep we’d lost. It was almost three.
“Shit,” I muttered. Hoping to wake myself up, I scrubbed a palm over my face and dragged myself back upstairs.
But how could I complain?
I couldn’t.
There was nothing here for me to complain about. Nothing but my worry for Elizabeth. She was the one who had to endure this.
So what if I lost a few hours’ sleep. I could deal. I sure as hell wasn’t about to leave Elizabeth to suffer through this alone.
Not again.
Not a chance.
At the bathroom doorway, I paused when I found Elizabeth in the same position I’d left her in. Exhaling heavily, I eased up behind her and dropped to my knees at her side. I ran a soothing hand up the length of her spine and to her neck, softly tilting her face toward me.
“Here, baby, drink a little of this.”
She searched for the strength to smile, allowed me to lift the glass to her dry, cracked lips. If we weren’t careful, she’d end up dehydrated.
She took the smallest of sips and closed her eyes as she forced it down. For a moment, she remained still, as if she were testing the reaction, assessing if she could keep it down. Slowly her eyelids fluttered open. She whispered her thanks.
My head slanted in sincerity. “Don’t thank me, Elizabeth. I’m in this with you.”
Somewhere inside her, she found the energy to bait me with the hint of a tease. “You are, huh?”
Her efforts came out weak.
Gentle, sympathetic laughter quietly tumbled from my mouth, and I was unable to keep the playful buzz from lighting in my chest. A deep sense of wonder hit me. This girl could even rib me when she was at her worst.
“One-hundred percent,” I said.
She gestured with her chin toward the toilet. “So, do you think you could take this over for me?”
I pushed back the chunk of hair that had fallen into her beautiful face and wound it with my finger. An unrestrained smile split my face. At my reaction, her warm eyes swam with emotion, so thick, so pure, so…good. Softening, I tucked the matted tuft of blonde behind her ear and trailed my knuckles down her jaw.
“You know I would if I could.”
Elizabeth grasped my wrist, pressed my palm to her face as if it were her lifeline. “I know you would.”
She held me there for the longest time, the air between us full, both alive and subdued, a quiet comfort we fell into. Her eyes dimmed before they fell closed. “I’m so tired,” she admitted.
“Come here.” I shifted and leaned up against the tub, my legs stretched out in front of me. I cringed a little when my bare back met the cold porcelain surface. A shiver slipped down my
spine, but I shook it off and pulled Elizabeth to me. She curled into my side and rested her head on my chest, nuzzled and nestled until she found a comfortable spot.
I wrapped her in my arms. Her skin was cool to the touch, clammy, sticky with sweat.
I brought my mouth to the top of her head and kissed her there, murmured out a promise I’d be sure to keep. “You’re going to be okay, Elizabeth.”
She snuggled deeper and turned just enough to place a tender kiss to the center of my chest. “Only because you’re here.”
Chapter Five
Elizabeth
Present Day, Late September
The door quietly latched shut behind me, and I slumped against it for support as I squeezed my eyes closed, praying…praying for it to end.
I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. Didn’t know how much more I could take.
I fought the weakness that trembled my knees, because I didn’t want to be this woman. I hated her. I didn’t recognize her.
But I didn’t know how to make her go away.
My stomach curled. Nausea spun through my gut the same way it did every time I saw Christian’s face, a tumultuous chaos that wracked my senses, confused and clouded the truth that was lost somewhere inside me.
It was visceral. A reaction I couldn’t stop. Each morning I begged for this to be the day when I opened the door and I
would recognize myself. The day I would recognize Christian as the man I loved.
That I’d want him.
No one understood how desperately I wanted to.
None of them understood the way I really felt.
Clutching my chest, I gulped for air, begging for anything that would deaden this unyielding pain suffocating me from the inside out. Unbearable agony pressed and crushed, cutting deeper into the places where my life had been snubbed out, infiltrating the crevices of darkness where the light had been ripped from my soul.
It was blinding.
Excruciating.
Malignant.
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Hot, angry tears burned under my lids. Uncontrollably they fell, streaming from the creases of my pinched eyes. I lifted my face toward the ceiling, my head digging into the hard wood. I cried out, letting the pain that festered within me rip up my throat. I expelled my misery into the silence of the hollowed-out walls of this house. But the relentless desolation only echoed back the memories of what used to be my home. Those memories swallowed me whole.
At my chest, I fisted my hands in the shirt I’d worn for the last three days. “Help me,” I whimpered.
But there was nothing that could save me. Nothing that could turn back time. Nothing that could give me back what I had lost.
Hopelessness had become my only partner.
I staggered out into the middle of the small family room where a week’s worth of unfolded laundry was piled on the couch. There were so many good memories here. This tiny room
was where Christian and I had found each other again. For months, it was here that we’d sat as we played with our daughter, as I’d slowly come to the realization that I had to have him a part of our lives. Part of my life.
How could I not see him in it now?
Something within me had been erased. Obliterated. Because I knew I loved him. I just couldn’t feel it anymore.
Every time I witnessed the worry lining his face, it brought it all rushing back, and the only thing I wanted was to block it all out.
And I was so angry, so angry with him, and yet I didn’t even know why.
I crammed my fists in my eyes, trying to push the mess of emotions that had surfaced back into the place where they belonged. Hidden.
Frantically wiping away my tears, I drew in a ragged breath. I grabbed onto the railing to hold myself upright as I staggered upstairs. I fell face-down into the unmade bed that Christian and I were supposed to share. I buried my face in the pillow and exhaled the air from my lungs as I wrapped my arms tightly around it.
I hated that I almost felt relieved. I loved my little girl so much, but forcing myself to find the energy to take care of her was the most difficult task I’d ever faced. I just wanted to sleep, and when she was at school or with Christian, that’s what I did.
Deafening silence resounded in the room. I squeezed my eyes tighter, giving into the darkness that had somehow become my life.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth
March, Six Months Earlier
“Come here, you,” Christian said as he reached for my hand. Night had fallen. Flames licked up, glowed and danced from the fireplace in the corner of the small family room, keeping out the slight chill that had taken hold outside. We’d tucked Lizzie in an hour earlier, and our daughter slept soundly upstairs. Christian was lying across the couch, and he tugged me down to him. I giggled as I crashed against his firm chest. He wrapped me in the security of his arms, and I snuggled into his warmth.
Gently he kissed the top of my head. His smile was uncontained as he nudged me up and kissed my nose. “You’re on your feet too much,” he scolded in the sweetest way. “You amaze me. Do you know that?”