Xavier stays locked up in his room for four whole days.

Leaving me to do all the work of keeping up a horse farm on my own. I drop into bed each night exhausted and heartsick. Sleeping in a bed without his big body beside me feels wrong now. Which makes me furious. Come to think of it, pretty much everything makes me furious these days.

Like the motherfucking too-dry tasteless scrambled eggs I shove into my mouth on the morning of the fifth day. I was spacing out while I cooked them, wondering about a certain asshole who’s decided he just gets to check out while I’m left here as his slave doing all the work of two or three people. He’s insane trying to run this place by himself. The horses need exercise and him telling me not to ride them is bullshit.

Well, screw him. If he wants me to obey him, he can goddamned well get his ass out here and tell me himself.

Because I’m out here feeding his goddamned horses all on my own.

Before sunrise, with a flashlight.

I push into the stable and yank on the cord that turns on a couple of lights.

“Good morning. Yep, still just me,” I announce. “Your Dad is still being a piss-ant and leaving everything to Auntie Mel. I know, I know, I’m not nearly as entertaining as Mr. Frowny-pants, but you’ll survive.”

Then I begin the arduous task of feeding and watering everyone.

I approach Lulu’s stall. “Don’t even give me your attitude this morning, Miss Thang. I promise you I will out-bitch you today.”

For once, she just steps back like a good little pony and lets me give her fresh feed and water.

“That’s right, you respect your elders.”

I’m just standing back up and stepping out of her stall when I feel it.

A cramp.

I cringe and grab my abdomen.

Shit.

I close my eyes and hang my head.

And then all my bravado sweeps out in one swift wave. I slump down on the stable floor and start to cry.

If I’m cramping that means I’m getting my period.

And if I’m getting my period that means I’m not pregnant.

The tears turn to sobs.

Above me, Lulu noses at the top of her stall, making a repeated bump, bump noise. I look up through my tear-heavy lashes and smile at her.

She’s picking up on my mood and seems anxious. I pull myself up off the ground. “Thanks, hon. We ladies gotta stick together, huh?” I give her nose an affectionate rub. She leans into me.

She was the last I had to feed, so I decide to head back to the house to rest for a bit before turning them out for the day.

About halfway there, my anger lights back up.

Because screw Xavier.

I do not feel like mucking out the damn stalls today. It’s backbreaking work and my back always aches already when I’m on the rag. I’ve been absolutely exhausted the past four nights. I refuse to do all this work by myself for another day.

Yes, Holy Hellfire dying was sad. Devastating even.

But there are nine horses that are still alive who need him.

Not to mention one measly little human woman.

I never asked to be here. He’s the one who basically kidnapped me. So he’s stuck with me. He wanted to be my goddamned Master? Well, he can’t just bugger off from the role whenever he feels like it.

I stomp up the stairs. Another brief little cramp hits and I grab my abdomen as I go. Ugh, I don’t even want to think about the fact that I’m probably bleeding all over my underwear.

He’s got the damn tampons. Another reason to break his stupid door down if I have to. I don’t exactly know how I’ll accomplish that… but never underestimate the power of a pissed off woman!

I pound on his door repeatedly with a closed fist.

“Open up, goddamn you,” I yell. “I’ve got cramps which means I’m getting my period, and if you don’t open this door, so help me God, I’ll—”

The door swings open before I can complete my threat. A good thing because I don’t know exactly how I was going to finish that sentence.

Xavier looks like shit.

Pale, gaunt, and unshaven. His hair is unwashed and wild and is that… whisky? He stinks like some sort of strong alcohol. His eyes are bloodshot with it.

He immediately reaches for me, dragging me inside the room.

“Wait, I—”

He lays me down on the bed and draws down my jeans. Then, to my utter embarrassment, he examines my underwear. It’s one of those situations where I want to cover my face, but I’m curious, so I look down. There are just a couple spots of red on my panties.

His face comes up, strained and alarmed.

“I’m probably just starting,” I explain, feeling my face heat. “It’s light at the beginning.”

He turns away and goes to his desk. He wakes up his laptop and then quickly types in his password. I pull my underwear back up and then sit on the bed, looking over his shoulder. He’s pulled up a calendar. From the bed, I can see the title of the large calendar reads, Melanie’s Cycle.

My mouth drops open. Holy crap, he’s charting my… That’s just—

“Your period should have started three days ago.” He turns back to look at me. “You’ve always been very regular. Your records said so.”

Oh my God, there’s just so much to unpack there. He’s said from the start that he had access to my records, but I guess it was never confirmed before now that he actually somehow hacked or got access to my freaking medical records. How the hell did he—

And then there’s the part about how my period was supposed to have started several days ago. Because he’s right. I’m one of those rare women who’s like clockwork. Every 28 days. You can set your calendar by it.

If I’m late, then that means…

I blink, looking down at my abdomen.

Xavier’s light-years ahead of me, because he’s already on the phone, barking out orders. “Drop everything and get out here as soon as possible. No, I don’t want to hear excuses. I pay so I can be your first priority. I expect you here within 45 minutes. Take the goddamned chopper if you have to!” He slams the phone down.

Then he’s rushing back over to me. “I’m so sorry. Lie down. God, lie down.”

He urges me onto my back on the bed, then he lifts shaking hands toward my belly. He stops just before making contact, though.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath and runs his hand through his hair instead. For a brief second, tortured eyes come up to meet mine, full of regret and self-recrimination. Then he gets up and turns away. He stalks off toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t slam it at least. Moments later, I hear the spray of the shower.

I drop my head back to the bed, my mind swirling a hundred miles an hour.

Could I really be pregnant?

Even thinking the word freaks me the hell out. Maybe I’m late because of all the extra farm work I’ve been doing. Don’t like, athletes miss their period sometimes because of all the strain on their bodies?

Except that even when I did crew in college and worked out for four hours a day on the weekends, I was still regular as clockwork.

I glance down at my flat stomach before quickly looking away again. Still, I can’t help my hand from creeping to touch low on my abdomen.

What if I am?

What does the cramping mean?

Oh God, what if I lose the baby before I even realized I had it?

I lose my breath at the thought.

Baby.

My baby. Our baby.

Can’t breathe, can’t breathe—

I stagger to my feet.

Sudden images flash before me: Me, my stomach heavy and round. Xavier holding a tiny baby, the grin that so rarely appears cracking his face as he looks down in wonder at the bundle in his arms. Tiny fingers grasping mine.

Oh God, what if— what if— I stumble to the bathroom.

When I try the doorknob, I almost weep with relief to find it unlocked.

Xavier’s in the shower. I only kick off my boots before stepping inside and collapsing into him. He catches me in his arms and holds me as the tears start up again.

The spray hits my back as I cling to him. “What if something’s wrong with the baby?” I cry into his chest. “I can’t— The baby—” I claw at his back, desperate for something solid. “What if I— I’ve been doing all this hard work all week and what if—”

He pulls me against him tighter, pressing my cheek to his chest. “Shhhh. It’s going to be all right. Dr. is the finest obstetrician in Cheyenne. She’ll be here soon and she’ll have answers. I won’t let anything happen to you, Precious. I swear.” He kisses the top of my head and then repeats in a rough, low voice, “I swear it.”

I nod against his chest, the terror that briefly cinched my lungs slowly releasing. Still, I can’t let go of him.

This is the Xavier I know and I need him right now more than ever. In command and control. When he says everything’s going to be okay in that tone of voice, it’s impossible not to believe him.

“Let’s get you out of these soaking clothes,” he murmurs.

I stand mutely while he peels off my shirt and tugs down my jeans. Soon the clothes are a soggy pile in the corner and we’re flesh to flesh. His cock is rock hard but he ignores it, twisting his hips to the side so that part of him doesn’t make contact as he briefly pulls me close again.

It feels like maybe he needs to hold me after going so long without contact. Or maybe I’m reading into it, because God knows that’s how I feel. I need to feel him real underneath my arms. Real and solid. I can’t handle him disappearing on me again. Especially now. But he doesn’t seem inclined to.

He pulls away briefly to pour shampoo into his hands but he tugs me close again as his fingers delve into my short hair. I close my eyes against the familiar sensation.

“I want the baby,” I whisper, trying the words out loud for the first time as he massages my scalp. “I actually want the baby.”

“Of course you do,” he murmurs. “And you’ll be the perfect mother.”

I melt against him. He really thinks that? Even though every time the topic of babies has ever been brought up all I can talk about is how much I don’t like them and how terrible I think they are?

He detaches the shower sprayer to get the shampoo out and then he’s on to the body wash. I can’t imagine ever being separated from him and going without this. The past four days have been terrible. Right now, his hands on me feel as necessary as breathing.

He washes my pussy with special care, his face reverent. He doesn’t tease or try to arouse me. His big fingers just separate my lips gently and then he turns the showerhead to a gentle mist as he cleanses me down there.

Then he reattaches the showerhead to the wall, fills his hand with his own body wash and starts to wash himself. His movements are rough, almost punishing.

“Let me.” I try to take the bottle he just put down but he stays me with a hand on my wrist.  I want to give him some of the comfort he’s just given me. But with a gentle shake of his head and an expression I can’t read, he pulls my hand back.

“Just stand under the spray,” he says.

He goes back to his quick, rough strokes. He usually washes himself briskly, but this seems more curt than usual.

What was he doing locked up in here for the past four days? Obviously drinking himself into oblivion. But just over Holy Hellfire? Yes, he had affection for the horse. He loved him even. And maybe his bond with the horses goes deeper than I understand but locking himself up like that is not a normal reaction. It’s got to be about something deeper. Maybe connected to the demons that wake him up yelling in the middle of the night. How? I have no clue.

Because he doesn’t talk to me.

And he won’t let you touch him.

I wrap my arms over my abdomen, feeling cold in spite of the warmth of the shower spray. I might be having a child with this man, but how well do I really know him? So much has changed since I’ve come here—I’ve changed so much. And I like the person I’m becoming even if I don’t fully understand all the ramifications of who that person is yet

But can this really work for the long term if he won’t fully share himself?

“Are you all right?” Xavier’s brows knit in concern and he steps closer, covered in suds from his intensive wash-down. He reaches out a hand to my upper arm. His touch is warm and I can’t help but lean into it.

Because as screwed up and emotionally unavailable as he might be, it’s too late.

I’ve fallen for him.

Hard.

“I’m okay. Here,” I step out of the spray to make way for him. “Wash off.”

He stares at me uncertainly for another moment, scrutinizing my face, but then acquiesces and begins to wash off the suds. He washed his hair before I came in, so it’s just a matter of quickly rinsing off and then we’re out of the shower and he’s toweling us down.

Once he’s got me dressed in a thick terrycloth robe, he lies on the bed beside me, brushing my hair back from my face.

He said I should take one of the pharmacy pregnancy tests he’s apparently stocked up on. In spite of all his assurances of their accuracy, though, I’d rather just wait for the doctor. If they say negative or positive, I’ll still be freaking out that I’m miscarrying based on the results. I can’t handle that shit right now.

So instead we’re just lying in bed with each other as we wait for the obstetrician. Xavier didn’t bother shaving and I have to say, I sort of like the five days’ scruff that’s almost a full beard on him. Makes him look dark and dangerous. Though it also highlights the burned streaks on the left side of his cheek where the hair won’t grow in. I imagine if the beard had more time to fill out, it might eventually hide them.

We’ve spent the last few minutes not talking. He’s just been lying there, staring at me. With anyone else, I imagine such a silence would feel supremely uncomfortable. With him, though, I just feel comforted and… not alone. He doesn’t shy away from me looking at him and I rarely get a chance to examine him up close like this.

His face is wide and broad like a boxer’s, but his wide mouth that stretches his whole face and deep brow balance it out. When he smiles, it’s dazzling and when he’s pensive, like now, you still can’t help but stare at his lips.

But I chance looking into his blue, crystalline eyes.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

He immediately glances away.

“Please? Don’t I have a right to know?”

His mouth tenses into a line and maybe that was a low blow but at the same time, I feel like it’s true. I do have a goddamned right. I might be the mother of his freaking child. He just put me through hell for the past four days. And I need for him to start opening up to me.

He’s quiet for so long I think he’s not going to answer me.

But then, finally, with a hard swallow that makes his Adam’s apple bob up and down, he starts speaking. “I was in the Army. A lieutenant stationed at a detention facility at Bagram Air base.”

I’m only partially surprised he’s not bringing up Hellfire. Deep down, I knew this was about so much more than a favored horse.

He stares at the ceiling while he talks and each word seems like a struggle to get out. He has to take a deep breath before finishing. “Men under my command made a mistake that cost a lot of people their lives. It was something I could have prevented if I’d prepared them better.”

What he doesn’t say is clear on his face. He blames himself for the deaths of those people, whoever they were. I hesitate before asking my next question but I don’t know when he’ll be willing to talk so openly again.

“Is that when…?” I reach toward his face but withdraw my hand before he can push it away. “Is that when you got hurt?”

He nods.

I wait for him to give me anything more.

He takes another deep breath and opens his mouth, but just then, the doorbell rings.

He jumps to his feet like his ass is spring loaded.

“That’ll be the doctor.” He’s out the door before I can so much as blink.

Dammit. I sigh, sitting up. Well, I mean, I’m relieved the doctor is here, but God knows how long he’ll clam up now.

It’s only a minute later before Xavier is back, literally dragging the poor doctor into the room by her wrist.

It’s the same woman as before.

She looks both harassed and scared, eyes locked on Xavier’s hulking frame.

“Xavier,” I snap at him.

He looks down at me. In his other hand, he’s carrying a heavy, black, hard-covered suitcase that I imagine is some sort of equipment the doctor brought with her. He sets it down but still has hold of the doc.

“Let her go. You’re freaking her out. She’s here to help us and it’d be nice if she’s not peeing her pants.”

Xavier lets go of her and the doctor looks at me, eyes wide with surprise. As tense as I am about my situation, I can’t help but be amused by the way she’s looking between me and Xavier.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Things have changed a little since you last saw me. Let’s get this show on the road. Do I need to pee in a cup or something?”

She nods, swinging a black bag off her shoulder. Her hands are shaking. I glare at Xavier but he looks unrepentant.

“Can I set this up?” he asks, fidgeting with the latches on the hard suitcase.

“Don’t touch that,” the doctor says, then her eyes widen and she quickly adds, “Please.”

I roll my eyes.

“Xavier, if you can’t stop scaring the nice lady, I’m going to send you to the other room.”

He levels me with a stare. “Try.”

I smile sweetly at him.

The doctor glances back and forth between us, then shoves a little plastic pee cup in my hand. “If you can just deposit your specimen into this, please, we can get some initial information. I brought the transvaginal ultrasound, but we’ll only do that if there seem to be any problems.”

“Oh goody,” I deadpan.

I take the pee cup and head to the bathroom. “Come with me, sweetie pie,” I call to Xavier. “Let’s let the nice doctor set up her machine without you freaking her the hell out and making her accidentally break something important.”

Xavier glares at her. “She better not.”

“Oh my God.” I get off the bed and grab his bulky upper arm, dragging him to the bathroom with me.

I drank two glasses of water after the shower in anticipation.

“Turn around,” I say to Xavier once he shuts the door.

He stares at me with an intensity that seems unwarranted for being about to pee into a cup. “You’re so goddamned feisty. If I weren’t so worried about you, I’d be fucking you into next week.”

I grin at him. I can’t believe he can still make my stomach flip even right now. I twirl my finger at him, mock glaring.

He gives me another hard stare but finally turns to face the door.

After a few tries, I manage to pee into the cup.

Xavier is immediately there with a towel to take it from me and hurry it out to the doctor while I wash my hands. After I do, I splash some water on my face.

Holy shit. How long does it take before we have a positive or negative? Will the doctor have to send it off to a lab?

I walk back out to the other room.

I’m surprised when I see my cup sitting on the nightstand with two little plastic sticks that look very similar to the ones from the store sitting beside the cup.

The doctor has gloves on and she’s looking at her phone. Xavier’s head is also bent, looking at the phone.

“What is it?” I come closer and see that it’s a timer. So it really is just like the at home tests. I’ll be damned. I stare at the timer with the same silent intensity.

Two minutes and twelve-seconds left. Eleven. Ten.

Commence with the slowest two minutes of my life.

At the end of which, the doctor checks the sticks only to look up at us and announce, “Congratulations, you’re going to be parents.”