Chapter 25

Carter

My head feels like it’s been held under water for so long, my eardrums have burst and the bubbles have stopped coming up.

I stand there in the doorway feeling like my brain’s come unscrewed. My head is an echo chamber of black thoughts and bad decisions right now, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from acting on every single fucking one of them.

But then I see her. I see June—my bride, mother of my child.

And then slowly—slowly but surely—the sound returns to my ears.

I look at her, standing there by the window with her long silken hair haloed by light, and for the first time since I left, everything feels like it might be alright.

This must be what coming home to love feels like.

She’s draped in blue satin and glowing golden. Her hands are placed protectively over her belly. But then I see the look on her face.

Her body says Hail, Mary, but the way she has her brows furrowed at me looks anything but full of grace.

Eyes full of something I can’t quite place. Was it anger, sadness, or a combination of both?

Or could it even be something different altogether?

So, this is what it fucking feels like to be held accountable for my actions.

“It’s late,” she begins. “How is he? I mean, is everything alright?” Her voice is a little shaky.

I shrug.

“What happened? It’s so late. I worried, you didn’t call,” she stops.

Those huge eyes of hers fill with tears.

Okay, so I know she wants me to talk to her and tell her what happened, giving her every last bit of detail.

But there’s one fucking problem.

I don’t want to fucking talk. All I want to do is grab her by the waist and rip her gown off her shoulders. My mind is not on what happened at the bar anymore. No, it’s somewhere totally different.

Fuck, she looks so hot.

Without thinking, I take a step toward her, and before I really know what the fuck I’m doing, I’ve grabbed her by the shoulders.

My fingers are digging into her soft flesh. I barely take any notice of the change in her eyes. It’s a fleeting change, one I should pay attention to.

I’ve got no coherent thought left in my mind. In fact, my brain’s gone on vacation and left my dick in charge.

I lose all sense of time. My mouth finds hers and pushes down her hard. Every bit of my body wants her.

Possessive, I push my tongue into her mouth. I’m so overwhelmed with desire I don’t hear her muffled screams or take note of her pushing me away.

Like a drunk man, I clutch to the only solid thing in my life right now.

June.

She’s my light. She’s my sunshine. She’s my everything.

I want her. I need her. If I can’t fuck her this minute, I think I might lose my mind.

It seems to me as if she’s the only thing that can save me right now.

And when I say I want her and I need her, I don’t even know exactly what I mean. It feels so intense and so genuine, but she’s inspiring something in me that I don’t comprehend, something deep.

It’s well beyond some drunken fucking lust. It’s almost like it’s beyond any lust—though that’s certainly a huge fucking part of it.

But the yearning I have for her…it’s like everything broken in me, in the world is healed by her presence and her kindness and just every magnificent goddamn thing about her.

It’s almost like I need her to save me.

Of course, I have no fucking idea what I need saving from. I only have a feeling, a strange feeling growing inside of me.

This whole fucking evening had been a mistake. Once Lawrence called, I should have known he had something planned.

You don’t go ignoring someone and then suddenly ask him or her to meet you in some bar if you didn’t have some ulterior motive.

Of course, the fool that I am, I walked right into his little game.

By now, my tongue is trying to reach for her tonsils. I’m so desperate for her. I want to devour her.

It’s not until I feel a stabbing pain between my legs and the world goes out of focus that I take a step back. Something’s not right.

My body folds like it’s fucking laundry day, temporarily making it an enormous challenge to breathe.

Fuck.

“Sorry,” June’s sobbing.

I’m consumed by pain for a few more seconds. And when it subsides, I straighten up.

Did she really just kick me in the balls?

Her hands are covering her face. Behind her, the city is still slumbering. Here and there, I can see a light on in the high-rise buildings we can see from up here.

It won’t be long before it’ll come to life.

As I look at my June—so vulnerable, so sad, and so utterly shattered, I realize what I’ve just tried to do.

How could I?

Instead of coming home to this gorgeous woman and talking to her, I’ve come in and tried to fuck her.

Suddenly, I feel about as big as the crap on the bottom of my shoe. In fact, I should be the crap on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

I have acted totally selfishly. No, worse, I’ve reacted—and I can’t even say what I reacted to.

“June,” I take a step toward her.

Horrified, I notice her flinch. Her body starts to shake, and her hands seem to find her belly again.

Her eyes are swollen and red.

Oh, Jesus, what have I done? Who am I?

“June, I’m sorry,” I reach out and touch her lightly on the shoulder.

She flinches but does not move away.

“I’ve…sick…worry…talk…” She’s sobbing so much now, her words make no sense.

Tentatively, I approach June.

This time, I wrap my arms around her and hold her softly, delicately. It takes a bit of time, but eventually she relaxes into me.

She continues to sob.

It takes her what seems like an eternity to get a hold of herself, but her sobbing eventually eases.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper over and over again as I stroke her hair.

And I am so truly fucking sorry that I’m terrified I’ll never be able to express it correctly.

I’m sorry for having gone to meet Lawrence.

I’m sorry for getting back so goddamn late.

And I’m especially fucking sorry for trying to have sex with her like some clumsy monster the moment I stumbled in.

June’s sobbing slowly subsides completely, and she pulls out of my embrace.

“What happened?”

I shrug. Where do I even start?

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

June wraps her arms around her, as if warding off some evil force in the room.

“You have to talk about it. You have to tell me,” she insists.

Our eyes meet. Hundreds of unspoken words pass between us.

Have I really only known this woman for a few weeks? It seems so much longer.

“Okay,” I grumble and run my hands through my hair.

“Okay, what?”

Feeling too guilty to even look at her, I start to pace the room.

Sometimes it’s easier to get things off my chest if I keep moving. I’m not sure what it is, probably has something to do with endorphins or some shit.

“Lawrence wasn’t alone at the bar tonight,” I start, but my entire mouth fucking freezes up before I can say another word.

Why is it so fucking hard to talk about what happened?

Because I acted like a total fool is the answer, but I can’t tell June that—not like that, at least. June deserves the truth, but fuck, I don’t even know what the truth is.

“Lawrence was there tonight with Chantal. Chantal is the very first woman I had sex with. And, from that very first time, she got pregnant—and you know the rest already.”

I stop there.

It’s not a stop for dramatic effect. I need to catch my breath. June stays perfectly still, as if fearing she might ruin the moment by making the wrong move.

“Anyway, tonight, they told me she’s going to be married to Lawrence. And on top of that, that she’s pregnant.”

Another pause.

June still does not move.

“I don’t know,” I continue. “There’s something wrong with all this. I mean, she had an abortion when she was pregnant with me. I know that was a long damn time ago, but why would she suddenly be pregnant with my brother’s child and want to keep it?”

If I thought June is going to have something, or anything to say about that, I was mistaken. She’s still just standing, her back to the window, arms wrapped around herself.

“You’ve got to understand, June, I don’t love her. Tonight, I realized I never loved her. It’s just…I don’t understand what the two are up to. I’d hate for an innocent child to be brought into the world by two crazy drug addicts who may only be doing this to spite me…and get into the good graces of our father.”

There. I’d told her everything there’s to tell.

Silence.

It’s so quiet, I think I can hear my own heart beating in my chest.

“I’m sorry,” mutters June.

Her words shatter my heart. It’s so like June to take on the burden of others. There’s absolutely fucking nothing she has to be sorry about.

Finally, I stop my pacing and stare at her.

Behind her, the sun is now starting to rise from its slumber. Golden rays of sunlight are making their way into the window. June is bathed in this light, and for a brief second, I think I can see a halo above her head.

Angelic.

She’s my angel—my guardian angel.

With her by my side, I can get through anything.

I try approaching her again.

This time, I bend down toward her waiting lips.

Gently, softly, and slowly, my lips hover above hers before they come down to kiss her.

My intention is a kiss.

But her hands wrap around my neck, and I feel another surge of intense feelings rush through me. Somehow, I feel I love her even more than I did this morning.

My hands caress her ass, her back and then rub her belly.

A tiny moan of pleasure from her lips tells me she’s ready.