Dawson
I didn’t even go through the front door when I arrived home.
I headed straight for the garage, entering from the side door, and went right to my punching bag. I didn’t bother putting on gloves. I wanted to feel the pain.
So, I just started pounding.
Purging all of my frustration and anger and everything dark I was feeling.
I’d been relieved when I’d gotten off my beat over a year ago. I’d been ready to get off the streets and utilize my skill set in a different way. And I’d figured there would be some undercover work in store for me before I could rise up the ranks and do what I really wanted.
Homicide detective.
That was my end goal.
I just hadn’t counted on Narcotics.
Going undercover for a year had really taken its toll. Days filled with talking to the lowest scum on earth, scoring big hits, and tirelessly pursuing all possible leads and informants could truly drain the life out of you.
I hadn’t shaved in weeks.
Hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months.
Hadn’t been able to take my wife out on a proper date—for fear of being recognized by someone who knew my drug-addled alter ego—for over a year.
“Bad day at the office?” came Mickie’s voice from the doorway to the kitchen.
My head snapped around to see her gorgeous face etched with worry as she watched me beat the hell out of the bag. I never wanted her to see me like this. She shouldn’t have to.
“Just like any other day,” I replied.
Though it wasn’t. Today had made me question my decision to become a cop in the first place.
I went back to punching.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said in a soft voice.
I didn’t meet her eyes. Just kept punching. “Be there in ten.”
I assumed she’d gone back inside the house when she didn’t say anything else. Then I saw her out of the corner of my eye, standing off to the side, watching me unleash my fury. The longer she stood there, the more I couldn’t not look at her.
And when I glanced over, she had tears in her eyes. They lowered to my swollen knuckles that were already bleeding.
“You’re starting to scare me,” she whispered.
I pursed my lips, hating that I was worrying her at all. She didn’t need to worry herself. It wasn’t good for—
My eyes lowered to her belly.
Her eight-months-pregnant belly.
The belly that held my children.
Children. Plural. There were two of my children inside her.
Twins.
Trust me, I was the scared one here.
“It’s nothing, Mick,” I said, attempting to sound reassuring. I even forced a small smile. “I’ll deal with it like I do everything else.”
She bit her lip, looking unsure of herself. “But you haven’t been dealing with anything. At least not in the best way. You come home every night and beat out all your problems on this bag. Like that will magically solve everything.”
I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth. “I don’t expect it to solve anything. It just helps me think, okay? You know I need this.”
“I know, but you’re keeping this part of you separate from me—”
“It’s better that way,” I snapped. “That’s how it has to be. This part of my job doesn’t belong in there.” I pointed to the house.
She huffed in frustration. “It just feels like you’ve become two different people.”
I couldn’t contain my bitter laughter. “Because I have. When I walk out of these doors every morning, I have to be a different person. And when I come home, I have to change back. You have no idea how infuriating it is to not always feel like yourself. To have to stop every now and then and wonder, ‘Who am I supposed to be right now?’”
Her expression softened, and she took a step toward me. “I’m trying to understand,” she whispered. “You have to let me, though.”
I gave a hard shake of my head. She stopped approaching. “I tell you as much as I can tell you. The rest is just part of the job. You’re going to have to find a way to deal with it.”
I knew they were the wrong words as soon as they’d left my mouth.
Her brow furrowed, her face reddening with anger. “Deal with it? I’ve been dealing with it, Dawson. For over a year now. I realize this is part of your job. But I didn’t know that by creating this alternate life, you were going to completely remove yourself from your real one.”
My jaw hardened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“How many doctor’s appointments have you missed?” she asked pointedly. “And who had to go pick out the cribs by herself? When was the last time we even fell asleep in bed together?”
“You know most of my undercover work has to be done at night,” I bit out, my patience slipping. She’d known all of this from the beginning. “This work is temporary. It’s not like I’ll be in Narcotics forever.”
She threw her arms up. “Yes, but in the meantime, you’re missing some of the most important stuff. Out of the time in your career you’ll have spent undercover, how much of it will be filled with moments you’ll have missed out on that you can never get back?”
“I’m trying here, Mick,” I yelled.
I shouldn’t have been yelling, but she was pushing all the wrong buttons. Especially on a day like today.
“Are you?”
My head reared back at the curt question.
Her arms were crossed over her chest. “Are you really trying? Because it seems to me that instead of pounding away and stewing in your anger out here, you could be spending the limited free time you have with your wife.”
I turned away, running my hands through my hair. Everything was starting to feel too overwhelming. My head was a mess. I was getting a migraine. I couldn’t keep all my thoughts straight.
So, I lashed out.
“What do you want from me?” I shouted, more to myself than to her. “I’m doing all that I can. I’m bringing in money, I’m saving for the babies. I’m trying to keep myself safe out there, while staying sane at the same time. I don’t know what else I can do. I don’t know what to DO!”
I felt bad for raising my voice.
But God, I had so much bubbling up inside me. I’d been trying to control it all these months.
The last person I wanted to take any of this out on was Mickie.
“Dawson…”
I spun back around at Mickie’s strangled whisper, and felt my heart stop beating. She was clutching her stomach while holding herself upright on the punching bag, her face contorted in pain.
“Mickie!” I rushed over and gently grabbed her around the waist, holding her steady. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
I don’t know if I’d ever been so consumed with fear in all my life.
She sucked in a deep breath. “Cramping…hurts,” she said on a moan. “Need to get…to the hospital.”
Oh, God.
“Okay, let’s get you in the car.” I slowly led her out the door, and helped her into the car, my heart threatening to pound out of my chest. “Deep breaths, baby.”
I drove like a bat out of hell all the way to the hospital.
Please let her be okay.
Please let them be okay.