Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 32

CRUTCH

No wonder she hated me.

I abandoned her and our unborn child. The child who died before I even knew she existed. For six hours, I was a father.

A father.

I was Dad. To a daughter. A little baby girl.

And she was a mother.

And My Lulu had to do it all without me. No wonder she was so devastated when she thought Laura was my child.

I can’t believe this is my life. I can’t believe this is happening to me. To us.

The initial shock slowly seeps from my body, leaving me savagely broken. And I cry. For the first time in years, I cry. I sit on a bench, bury my head in my hands and watch as my tears soak the sidewalk.

What did she look like? Did she have a name? Was she in pain? Did she feed from Lulu’s breast? Did she fight for her little life?

It sounded like something went wrong with the pregnancy. Does that mean Lulu was in pain? How much suffering did she endure? Did she know she was pregnant when she married Hudson?

How could she keep this from me? How could she not tell me about the baby? Why did she do this to me? Did she want to hurt me because I left?

Things could’ve been so different.

It’s not like I could’ve left the Marines, but we could’ve made things work, made a life together. I would’ve married her, made it right. Hell, it’s what I really wanted. I wanted to marry her and have a family with her. I just thought she was giving up a chance at a great future to be with me. I didn’t want her to give up anything for me.

And in running away, I forced her to give up the greatest future of all—our daughter’s future.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, but eventually, my tears dry. My face stings from the salt and my lips are cracked and chapped. All of a sudden, I’m bone-tired. Weary and exhausted. Angry, frustrated, and miserable.

My head jerks up the second I hear her voice. “Well, you certainly know how to make a dramatic exit.”

Even through the dark, I can see her red and swollen eyes. She’s been crying. That thought fucking rips my heart out.

But empathy for Lulu isn’t the only feeling I have right now. My spirit is in turmoil, and the raging war inside is splitting my soul in two.

Despite my love for her, a devious snake of anger slithers its way through my blood. It tries to freeze me, tries to harden me, tries to consume me.

“You’re finished in there?” I nod my head at the brick hospital building.

“Yes. Discharged.”

I stand up. My back is so tight and tense, it feels like all my muscles are ripping. A single drop of rainwater falls on my head. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to settle up for the damage I caused.”

She doesn’t look at me. She just stares straight ahead at the parking lot. “I already took care of it. I explained the delicacy of the situation. They were very understanding. They refused to let me pay for the glass frame. I made a donation to the cancer center instead.”

A few more rain droplets fall. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I could’ve handled it. It was my mess to clean up.”

She tries to reach behind her neck with her good hand, but her purse and a bag of hospital stuff is weighing her arm down. Giving up, she sighs, “And you always take care of your messes, don’t you, Ry?”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? “You plan on telling me what you mean by that comment?”

“No.”

“Well, I suggest you quickly modify your plans, then.”

The rain is starting to fall at a faster pace, so she takes off walking toward the truck, ignoring me and leaving me standing like a dumbass on the sidewalk. I click the fob to unlock the door for her and take my sweet time walking across the parking lot. I need time to gather my thoughts. How are we supposed to even talk about this? About what happened? About our child?

I climb into the truck and toss my ballcap in the back seat. I shake the rainwater from my hair and drag my hands down my face. She shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable.

“Is your arm hurting?”

“It’s fine. I took some ibuprofen a few minutes ago. It’ll kick in soon.”

“What’s in the bag?”

She shrugs. “Some extra bandages. Paperwork.”

I nod, not saying anything.

She points at the armrest and dashboard, where streaks of her dried blood mar the leather. “I’ll pay to have it have cleaned.”

“I don’t care about my damn truck.”

“Hmm.”

I can’t stand it, enough with the small talk. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lulu?”

She turns to study me. Her jaw works back and forth. “Why didn’t I tell you then? Or why didn’t I tell you now?” Her voice raises an octave. She’s really starting to get pissed off.

Welcome to the club.

I shake my head. “Now. Then. Both.” All of it. Why is she asking such a ridiculous question?

“I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you.”

“Oh really? It’s not that hard to do. ‘I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.’ See, less than twelve seconds. So, how come it took twelve years for me to find out?”

She shoves her finger in my face. “It wasn’t that simple, asshole!”

I toss my hands in the air. “Enlighten me. Please.”

“You didn’t wanna be found, Ry. Your goal was to leave me, to cut ties, and you did a damn good job of it. You left your cell phone. You deleted your email account. I went to the recruiting office, I begged the recruiter for your information, for anything—a phone number, a mailing address, an email address. He couldn’t give me anything because you designated your file as ‘no contact’. He was forced to honor your request. I even tracked down your mom, drove her to the office, and had her ask. You had it marked that your mailing address couldn’t even be given out to family.”

Shit. I did do that. I did it because I was afraid Lulu would write while I was in MCRT, and I knew her letters would distract me. “You met with my mom after I left town?”

Lulu snorts. “Yeah, and she was a real pleasure as always. I had to pay her $200 to even get her to go to the recruitment office.”

Now, that sounds like dear old Mom.

“I begged the recruiter to call you himself. I told a complete stranger I was pregnant and begged him to get in touch with you. He couldn’t, of course.”

She sits forward, watching the rain slap against the windshield. “I didn’t tell Harlan I was pregnant. I didn’t want him to worry. I just told him that he had to make you call me. But that was a moot point too. You called him when you arrived at MCRT, but that was while I was in Puerto Rico. Harlan told me you wouldn’t be able to call back until MCRT was finished. Thirteen weeks, Ry. You had that boot camp for a full thirteen weeks. We kept waiting on you to call . I kept waiting on you to reach out to one of us. But you didn’t. You left Harlan a coward’s voicemail a few weeks before MCRT ended, telling him you weren’t taking your ten-day leave before SOI, but instead going straight there. You didn’t even leave a contact number on the voicemail so we could call you.”

She shakes her head, fighting her anger. She’s losing the battle. “Guess how pregnant I was gonna be at the end of SOI? Six months! I couldn’t just sit around and not have a plan. I had a baby to prepare for.”

She reaches behind her neck and rubs her scar. “You left Harlan that voicemail on August 4 th , saying you weren’t coming home for your ten-day leave. I left town one week later.”

That piques my interest. And not in a good way. “ What you mean is you married Hudson, and left town one week later with your new husband.”

Her eyes narrow and her spine stiffens. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Why the hell would you marry someone you don’t love while you’re carrying my baby?”

She spins in her seat, pulls her seat belt around her, and stares out the side window. “I can’t talk about this anymore tonight. Drive. Take me home.”

I want to ask about my daughter. I want to know every single thing there is to know. But talking to her now will be like talking to a brick wall. Growling under my breath, I pull out of the hospital parking lot and navigate my way back to the interstate. We travel in silence.

And the silence is scary.

Terrifying, actually.

I’m losing her. I’m losing My Lulu.

Her spine stiffens, her shoulders square, her chin points in the air. The gleam in her eyes disappears. The fight in her soul dies.

With each and every mile I drive, I lose My Lulu to Ella.

***

She flies out of the truck the second I pull into her driveway. Not a goodbye. Not a fuck you. Nothing.

Screaming a swear, I yank the truck in reverse. She thinks she’s the only one who can be angry? She thinks she’s the only one who can hurt? Well, I lost a child too; I just didn’t know it until a couple of hours ago.

I slam on the brakes.

What the hell am I doing?

I drag my hands through my hair. I’m breathing so hard my chest hurts. I’m starting to hyperventilate. I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white, and I think I’m about to break my fingers.

I force myself to take slow, deep breaths. Eventually, my blood pressure equalizes.

I can’t do this. I can’t leave. Leaving is what got me into this trouble in the first place. She’s the love of my life. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing.

She’s mine. Never before. Never after. Only her.

She’s my forever.

And now, I have to make her realize that too.

Yes, we’re hurting, but we need to hurt together . I want to support her, heal her, make her whole. If that’s even possible. If it’s not? It doesn’t matter; I’m never leaving her side again.

I jump out of the truck and slam through the front door. She’s standing in the middle of the living room, crying in Holt’s arms. They stare at me like I’m an escaped lunatic.

“Ry?”

“I told you I would never leave again. I meant it.”

Holt takes a step in my direction. For a second, it looks like he might attack me.

I’ve always liked the guy; it’d be a shame to kick his ass.

Using his better judgment, he simply nods and plants a soft kiss on Lulu’s temple before retreating to his bedroom. “I’ll give y’all some privacy.”

She wipes her eyes and sniffles. “What do you want, Ry?”

I don’t see the need for any answer but the simple truth. “You. I want you, Lulu.” I cross the distance between us and sink to my knees. Gathering her body against mine, I rub my face against her stomach. The stomach that carried our child, the stomach that’s been through more than I could ever imagine. I pepper kisses all over her blouse. It smells like dried blood and her coconut lotion.

She doesn’t move. She stands like a statue. Unmoved, unfeeling.

Come back to me. Please come back to me, Lulu.

I squeeze her tighter, wrapping my arms around her waist, her ass, her hips. “Come back to me, Lulu. Please don’t leave me. I’m here.” I nuzzle myself against her, murmuring over and over. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

When her fingers finally thread through my hair, I nearly collapse in relief.

Standing, I gently kiss her lips and wipe the moisture from her rosy cheeks.

“I can’t talk about it anymore tonight,” she says. “My heart is all plugged up.”

Mine too.

Grabbing her good hand, I pull her behind me, wordlessly leading her down the hall. I shut her bedroom door, and she stands next to the bed, watching in curiosity as I shed my clothes, stripping down to my boxer briefs. I turn down the sheets and grab one of my old Harlan T-shirts from her dresser. They’re still in the exact same place they were all of those years ago. I point to her heels. She kicks them off her feet. She doesn’t shy away when I grab her blouse and gently pull it over her head, taking extra care with her hurt arm. The plump skin of her breasts spills from the top of her satin and lace bra. She shudders when my fingers hook in the elastic waistband of her ankle pants. I push them down her legs, and my dick jumps when I feel the silkiness of her smooth skin.

Her hand covers her stomach, hiding something. I can’t help but wonder if she had a C-section. I didn’t notice a scar the other night, but I was too preoccupied in keeping my libido in control while changing her clothes.

I don’t want to upset her, so I don’t stare.

I help her step out of her pants and then trace a finger up the scar from her hip surgery. I can’t see the whole thing. It disappears underneath the edge of her pink flowered panties. With a trembling hand, she reaches up to my shoulder and rubs my own scar, following its jagged path around to my shoulder blade. She sucks in a breath, shocked by the divots, bumps, and unevenness of my skin—the particles left behind from the explosion. Her eyes never leave mine.

When she drops her hand, I motion for her to spin around. Unhooking the clasp of her bra, I watch as it falls to the floor. Her back is so smooth, the curve of her spine so alluring. What I wouldn’t give to see her. To touch her. To graze my teeth across her brown nipples.

But I don’t.

I pull the T-shirt over her head, covering her before she can turn around and drive me to the brink of devastation with the temptation of her half-naked body.

I turn out the light and climb into bed. When I hold back the covers, welcoming her to bed, she smiles weakly. Her body relaxes the second she sinks onto the plush mattress, and I fold my body around hers.

We fit together perfectly.

I think we fit better now than we did.

“Let me know if I hurt your arm.”

She sighs and then yawns. “I think we’re done hurting each other.”

Truer words have never been spoken.