Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 1) by Abigail Davies, Danielle Dickson (26)

I walk out of Clay’s room, heading down the stairs as the ringing of my cell echoes around the empty space. Pulling it out, I see Harmony’s name flashing across the screen.

My feet come to a stop halfway to the bottom, my heart hammering in my chest as my thumb hovers over the answer button and then over the decline button. My gaze flits back upstairs before looking back down at the screen of my cell. I can’t do it. I can’t answer the call and listen to her voice; not right now. Not in the headspace that I’m in at the moment.

Shaking my head, I push it back into my pocket when it stops ringing. It’s been a couple of weeks now and I still haven’t spoken to her. Not for her lack of trying, but I can’t face her right now. I can’t bear to tell her everything, because that’s the only way that she’ll understand it all.

Not just about Natalia, but the reason that I walked away from her all those years ago too. It’s all become too real, and I’m not sure that I’m strong enough to face it.

Truth be told; I’m scared. I’m a grown-ass man, but I’m scared that I’ll lose her all over again. Surely pushing her away is better than watching her walk away from me this time?

“Hey, Tris,” Amelia says as I walk into the kitchen. She’s dressed in her pajamas, no makeup on and her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head as she makes her nightly cup of cocoa.

I chuckle as she brings it to her lips. “You and cocoa.” I shake my head, a smirk on my face. “You’re such an old lady.”

My cell beeps with a message and when I pull it out, I see the notification, telling me that I have a voicemail.

“I am not!” she gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock outrage. “Cocoa is good for you, it settles you for the night.” I don’t look up as she comes closer, standing beside me. “Tris?” she asks, concern etched in her voice.

“It’s Harmony,” I whisper, my voice raw with emotion.

“So, talk to her,” she says flippantly, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting in silence.

My thumb unlocks the cell, but I hesitate, not sure whether to delete the message or listen to it. If I listen to it, it could change everything. She won’t want me after I tell her the truth; but if I delete it, it’ll be over for good. I feel like I’m at a crossroads; the same way I felt before I climbed those stairs in her studio.

Making a decision, I huff out a breath and press the button to listen to it as I put it to my ear, hearing her emotion-filled words. But it’s the two words—“I’m done”—that have me lifting out of my chair. The wooden legs scrape against the tiled floor and I let my hand drop, the cell hanging from my fingers loosely.

It’s one thing me walking away, knowing that once I get my head together, I can go back. But to hear those words from her tells me that I went too far: I pushed too hard and I broke us.

Me. It’s all on me—again.

The thought of never holding her close, touching her, kissing her, laughing with her, has a lump building in my throat. I need to go to her. I need to make this right.

“I have to—”

“Go.” Amelia waves me away. “Go and get your girl.” She smiles but I can’t do anything but nod as I practically run out of the house and to my car.

Her words bash around in my brain, repeating over and over again all the way there. The way she sounded; so wounded and broken. I did that to her. I made her feel like that. I want to punch myself in the face right now.

Before I know it, I’m outside her studio and pushing out of my car, running up the cobblestone path, the lights guiding my way in the darkness of the night.

The door pushes open and I frown at her leaving it unlocked at this time of night. I know she has adult art class tonight, but that was over a while ago. She should have locked up by now.

“Harmony?” I call out for her, stepping farther inside. When I don’t get an answer, I walk into the main area, not seeing her, but I can feel her energy. I know she’s here before I hear her voice.

“Stupid, stupid.” She berates herself.

My head whips in the direction of her voice and my feet are moving toward her before my brain catches up.

“Harmony?” I ask when I get to the open door of her office.

Her head snaps up and her eyes connect with mine; void of the loving look I always seem to find when I stare deep into her eyes. It just about guts me. I’m too late.

“What do you want from me?” Her voice breaks.

“I…” I rake my hands through my hair and down my face, looking off to the side and seeing the walls full to the brim with art. “I think it’s time.”

I turn back to her as her face turns angry, her cheeks becoming red. “Time? I’ve had enough of time, it brings nothing but misery.” She stands from the chair she’s sitting in. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and stepping toward her, but one look has me coming to a halt. “I mean it’s time for me to stop running.” I let my gaze drop from hers again because it’s too painful to see that look in her eyes when it’s aimed at me. “It’s time I told you everything. I need you to understand.”

“I’m done trying to understand, because right now you’re assuming I even want to hear any of it.” She huffs out a long breath which has me raising my gaze to hers. “What’s done is done.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to find some sort of crack in her facade. I search for what feels like hours, but in reality, it’s mere seconds. I don’t see a single thing that tells me that this is a front and I feel like I’ve lost her for good.

I know I only have two options: to tell her and walk away, or to tell her and fight for her. If she doesn’t want me afterward, I’ll fight like I never have before to keep her, because the thought of never having her in my life is unbearable.

“All I want is for you to hear me out. When I’ve said what I have to say, if you still want me to walk away, then I will. No questions asked. I’ll let you live your life without me in it.”

She falters. “I…”

My breath comes out in a whoosh as I see the crack in her facade that I was searching for, and I use it to my advantage, jumping on it. “Just hear me out, Harm. Please.”

Her eyes flutter closed and several tears escape her lashes, streaming down her face as she gently nods her head, giving me the go ahead. “Don’t baby me though, I want to hear every single detail,” she warns, opening her eyes and showing me that she means it.

I nod my head in acknowledgement, waving at her chair and tilting my head for her to sit down. She puffs out a breath impatiently before sitting down and settling her watery gaze on me as I choose to stay standing.

“I don’t know where to start,” I say, hating that I sound so unsure right now. If I start from the beginning then I know she won’t hear me out fully. “The hospital,” I say. “Let’s start there.”

She nods, wiping underneath her eyes and sinking into her chair.

“When the baby went into distress, it brought it all back, everything that happened the day that Nat… died.” I say the last word on a whisper. “I need you to understand why I reacted the way that I did; why I walked away.”

“You weren’t the only one feeling like they were drowning. Telling you that I can never be a mother hurt me too. But couples work through these things together, Tris. They don’t run away when things get tough.”

“I know,” I answer her, lifting my head and staring at her for several seconds. “I’m so sorry that you can’t have a baby, Harm. I really am. I can’t imagine the pain that you went through; the pain that you still go through every day.” The lump in my throat builds and I try my hardest to clear it before continuing. “I can’t even imagine not having Clay or Izzie. But can you imagine what it would be like to not have had your mother around when you were growing up?” A traitorous tear falls down my cheek and I swipe it away angrily. “I have to look into Clay’s eyes every day, knowing that I’ll never be enough for him. He needs a mom.” I take a breath. “Just like Izzie does. The notion that she’ll never have a relationship with her mother. It rips me apart, Harmony.” I shake my head. “I know she has Amelia and my mom, but it’s not the same as having the woman there who gave birth to you.” I take a breath, closing my eyes and re-opening them.

“No kid should have to grow up without a mom, but you have people around you willing and wanting to help you. And that’s what I’m saying. I know how hard it must be for you, but you could’ve talked to me and… I could’ve helped.”

“Yeah,” I answer, defeated. “I know I could have, Harm. But I’m so used to doing everything on my own now. Tackling each problem as a single parent, I haven’t leaned on anyone since…” I leave that hanging in the air, the pain running through my veins almost becoming too much to bear.

“I know it’s not easy, I wasn’t expecting you to talk to me and for everything to be okay. But at least you would’ve been talking to me, then we could’ve gone from there.” Her eyes flit between mine. “You weren’t alone anymore, Tris, and it hurts that you didn’t trust me enough to help you.”

I take a breath, the stuttering sound echoing in my ears. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m not looking for your sympathy, I want to tell you what happened. I want to help you understand why it’s so hard for me.” I start pacing in the small space, pushing my hand into my hair and pulling at it, relishing in the pain that shoots through my scalp as I seek physical pain to distract from the emotional one building up inside me. “It’s hard, because it’s not just about me anymore. I come as a package. A package of three. It’s not easy, it won’t ever be easy and I’m finally coming to terms with that.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “But the thought of losing you for good…” My voice breaks and I stop myself from finishing that sentence.

“There wasn’t one moment that I didn’t have the kids in my head. In fact, I hadn’t even separated you, I knew you came as a package.” Her arms fly up in the air. “God, I love those kids like they were my own and it hurts that I’ve lost them too.”

My eyes spring open. “You haven’t lost anyone, Harm. I never doubted for a second that you loved them.” I let my hand drop from my hair and point at my temple. “But in here? In here I feel like I’m lost: that I’m losing every battle I’m faced with.” I shrug. “I know I walk away from things, but that stops now. I’m tired of running.” I walk forward, keeping my eyes on her. “I’m tired of running away from you.”

“I can’t do it again.” Her eyes leave mine as she stares at all of the artwork on the walls. “I can’t break any more than I’ve already been broken.”

“I understand,” I say, the words sounding dirty in my mouth. “But whether you do or don’t want to be with me, I need to tell you everything.” I clutch my hands together, squeezing tightly. “I’ll know then.” I nod. “I’ll know that I did all that I could to make things right with you.”

Her gaze falls back on me and I hold my breath as she studies my pleading face. “So, the hospital?” She doesn’t need to expand on what she means, I know exactly what she’s asking me.

“Yeah,” I croak out. My mind flashing back to that awful day; the day mine and the kids’ lives changed forever.

“That’s it, Nat! You can do it!” I encourage her as she clutches my hand in hers, squeezing as she moans in pain. I grit my teeth from the force, but don’t dare say a word because I know that it’s small in comparison to what she’s feeling at the moment.

“It hurts.” She flops back down on the bed, her face red and her breaths coming in short bursts as slick sweat coats her skin. “I can’t do it anymore, Tris. I can’t.”

She shakes her head emphatically, begging me with her blue eyes for a break, for the pain to stop.

“You can, Nat. You can do this. Think of our little princess. She’s waiting to meet her mommy.” I smile, lifting my hand and cupping the side of her face. “You can do this.”

She nods her head, her eyes filling with determination as another contraction takes ahold of her.

She shouts and leans forward, pushing with all of her might as the midwife keeps encouraging her.

“That’s it, Natalia. Keep going, one more push.”

She blows out a breath as the contraction subsides and leans back on the bed, waiting for the next one. I plant a kiss on the top of her head as she takes a break, whispering that I’m so proud of her in her ear as I push the wet hair off her face.

“Arrrggghh!” she shouts again, pushing forward and putting all of her waning strength into the push.

“That’s it!” My voice breaks as I look down and see a full head of hair, followed by a body and then a baby’s scream. “You did it!” I croak, the emotion of seeing our daughter born taking my breath away.

The midwife picks her up, settling her on Natalia’s chest and covering her with a warm towel, wiping all of the goo off her tiny body as her wails fill the room.

“She’s got some lungs on her,” the midwife says, chuckling. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Isabel,” Natalia murmurs, looking down at the baby girl lying on her chest, a tear running down her face slowly as she turns to face me. “Our little princess.”

I choke back a happy sob as I reach out to Isabel, letting her clutch my little finger tightly in her hand. “She’s got a good grip on her too,” I say, wiping away the tear that has escaped my eye.

I dip my head, gently pressing a kiss to the top of Isabel’s head and then lifting up and placing a kiss on Nat’s lips as we both smile.

For a couple of seconds, we bask in the joy of having our second child; knowing that Clay is going to love his baby sister. She’ll be treated like a princess and grow up with the best mom she could ever have.

Just seeing Nat with Clay makes me certain of that. She’s always playing a game with him or singing to him. Not once did she moan about a nighttime feed; it’s almost as if she was put on this earth to be one of the best moms in the world. And that’s exactly what she is.

“Natalia, could you hand baby Isabel to Dad?” the midwife asks suddenly, her body taut.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I ask, lifting Isabel out of Nat’s arms as her eyes widen and her face pales.

“Tris, I don’t feel too good—”

“Hang in there, Natalia,” the midwife interrupts, obvious panic in her voice as she reaches over and slams the palm of her hand on a red button that sits on the wall, before darting back in between Nat’s legs.

My eyes flit from the midwife to Nat, watching as she brings her shaking hands to her face, pressing them against the sudden paleness of her skin.

“I feel hot,” she moans.

It’s only a couple more seconds before more nurses and doctors come running inside—all of them on high alert—as another nurse asks me to stand to the side, practically pushing me out of the way and out of reach of Nat.

My stomach clenches and I find it hard to swallow as I back up, still holding the little bundle that is Isabel close to my chest.

It’s like a movie unfolding in front of me as everyone flits around the room, trying to stabilize Nat. It can’t be real, it can’t be. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. We were meant to be sitting here, smiling and watching our princess. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

One nurse takes her blood pressure while someone else administers some drugs, all of them gathering around her. There’s at least eight people surrounding her now, blocking my view. I can’t even see her face, and that has the breath lodging in my chest.

My heart is in my mouth as the machines beep frantically and another one starts to buzz loudly. That’s when I spot it—the red blood dripping off the end of the bed.

“What’s happening?” I ask, trying to shout above all of the activity in the room, but not getting an answer.

Isabel starts wriggling in my arms, opening her mouth and sending a battle cry out into the tense atmosphere.

I twist my head this way and that way, trying to see what they’re doing. I finally spot the midwife as she rubs on Nat’s stomach, saying something about trying to cause a contraction.

Why does she need to cause a contraction?

“It’s not working,” I hear her say as she moves to the side, her sneakers stepping in the blood that is now pooling around all of them.

This can’t be happening.

“Nat!” I shout.

“Please stay back,” a nurse reprimands me, her eyes narrowing in warning.

I swallow and take a step back as they push the sides of the bed up, clicking something on the wheels.

“We need to get her into the OR, my fist won’t hold it much longer!” The midwife is panicking; I hear it and see it in her eyes when they connect with mine briefly.

There’s shouting and a sudden flurry of movement—so much noise—and all I can do is stand there, helpless and in shock as they start to wheel her out of the room, blood following in their wake at an alarming rate.

“Tris?” Nat’s small voice has me stepping forward as they pull open the doors. “Look after my babies.” A tear runs down her cheek as her blue eyes fill with sadness. They tell me that she knows that this is it; she knows that she won’t come back.

“No!” I take two giant steps forward, pulling Isabel closer to my chest. “Don’t you dare leave me, Nat! Don’t you dare!” I’m sobbing now, tears running down my cheeks freely along with that stupid lump in my throat that won’t let me catch my breath.

They wheel her out of the room as someone touches my shoulder, trying to get my attention, but I ignore them as they start pushing the bed down the hallway. The wheels of the bed leaving tracks of red blood behind. Her blood.

I manage to get to her side as she finally says, “Tell them I love them every day, don’t let them forget about me.”

“No,” I choke out.

“I love you... Tris.”

I stumble back, coming to a stop as her eyes close with exhaustion, and I scream her name, needing her to come back to me. I can’t do this on my own, I can’t.

I stand in the middle of the hospital hallway, watching them push through another set of doors, ripping her away from me. From us.

“Sir? We need consent to try and save your wife—”

I face the woman who holds a clipboard out to me, signing my name hastily where she points before saying, “Don’t try... Do.” I swallow, finally whispering, “Save her. Please.”

“We’ll do our best,” she replies, running down the hallway, her sneakers leaving tread marks of blood behind.

I eventually manage to tear my eyes away from the double doors, my gaze moving down to the small baby that is nuzzled up against my chest. She moves her head and I trail my hand down her cheek as her eyes open. As soon as I see her blue eyes—the exact same as Natalia’s— my breath catches in my throat.

I have to swallow against the bubbling emotion that rips through me like a tornado. I have to be strong right now; strong for her and strong for the little boy waiting at home.

I trail my finger down her cheek. “You have your mommy’s eyes,” I whisper.

Her head moves to the side before her eyes flutter shut and I watch as she falls asleep, not knowing the chaos that has happened in the first few minutes of her life.

I can tell that he’s not in the room with me as he recounts his memory, not leaving out any small detail. I can hardly see through the blur of tears that are continuously pouring out of my eyes as he slips down the wall and onto the floor, his head down as he clutches it in his hands.

I stand, the sound of the chair gaining his attention as he whips his head up. “They couldn’t save her,” he cries. “I was left with a newborn baby, not knowing what to do when they came to tell me that she was gone: that I was a widower and a single dad to a toddler and a baby.”

My hand cups my mouth and I slide onto the floor in front of him feeling and seeing every ounce of heartbreak. “I’m so, so sorry, Tris.” I don’t have anything else to say; nothing that will take his pain away anyway.

“I… I needed you to understand what happened.” He hiccups a sob. “The last time I held a baby in my arms at a hospital and machines started to beep like that.” His hand comes out, reaching for me, but he lets it drop mid-air, thinking better of it. “I couldn’t see past it all, Harm.”

I still stand by what I said: he should’ve talked to me, we could’ve gone somewhere and talked through all of this. But right now I feel like the worst person in the world for putting this on him. “I… I understand why it was so hard. I never should’ve pushed you to go in there.” I turn my head away from him, muttering, “So stupid,” under my breath.

“No.” His voice is firm, the same as his hand that cups my chin, bringing my face back to face him. “You’re not stupid. You didn’t know, how could you have?” He leans forward, tears streaming down his face as he whispers, “I should have trusted you.”

“There’s a lot of things we should or could’ve done differently, Tris.” I pull away and lean against my desk, playing with my hands. “Maybe this is the universe's way of saying that we aren’t meant to be together.”

A lone tear slips down my cheek and he reaches over, wiping it away with his thumb. “Or maybe it’s the universe’s way of bringing us back together again. Don’t you think we deserve to be happy?” His eyes shine with sorrow. “Neither of us have had it easy. I saw the way you were with that baby. I know your heart is in pain too.”

Another tear falls at his statement. “I want to be a mom more than anything in this world. Being with those babies both breaks and mends my shattered heart.”

He pulls me toward him, wrapping his arms around me as he pulls me up onto his lap, holding me as we both let it all out: the pain, the sorrow, the loss.

Neither of us move for what feels like hours as we take comfort in each other, mixing our pain together and freeing it all at the same time. My eyes start to feel heavy and I pull back, looking up into his sad gray eyes.

I don’t say anything as we’re caught in each other’s gaze and he leans forward, stopping a couple of centimeters from my lips, asking for silent permission.

I push forward, pressing mine against his softly before pulling away and dipping my head into that space between his neck and shoulder that has always fit me perfectly. I bring my knees up to my chest, letting him hold me how he used to when I was upset.

My breaths slow down the longer he holds me, making me feel safe inside his arms. My eyes start to close but spring back open as I feel movement as he pulls something out of his pocket.

“Don’t go... I don’t want you to go.”

He smiles softly, pressing a button on his cellphone and saying, “A? Can you get up with the kids in the morning, please?” She says something back to him and he nods his head before saying, “Thank you, see you tomorrow,” and looking down at me as he lets his cellphone drop to the floor with a soft thud. “No, sunshine. I’m not going anywhere.”