123: It’s Okay To Cry
SERA
Only the faint beeping of the heart monitor and the slow hiss of oxygen broke the silence. I sat curled in the chair by my husband's bedside, my hands resting over the swell of my belly. Every now and then, I glanced at the bandage wrapped around his head, the bruises marring his skin, and the dried blood they hadn't been able to scrub completely away.
Killian looked small. Lying there against the white sheets, his skin pale and his chest rising shallowly, he seemed... breakable.
My throat ached with the sobs I hadn't let out yet. I reached for his hand, tracing the veins, the cuts, and the scars with trembling fingers. 'Come back to me. Please,' I thought.
Then his body jerked.
He gasped, thrashing as though he'd been caught in invisible chains, a strangled cry ripping from his throat. His hands clenched the sheets, his face twisting with anguish.
"Killian!" I was on my feet in an instant, reaching for him. My hand pressed against his cheek, the other cradling his shoulder. "It's just a dream, love. You're safe. You're here with me."
His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wild, darting around the room before finally resting on me. For a moment, he didn't breathe. Then an expression of absolute devastation settled on his features.
He tried to sit up. So I quickly slipped onto the bed beside him, sliding an arm around his back to guide him up slowly. His body trembled against mine, his muscles straining.
And then... his eyes turned glassy.
Tears welled up, clouding his beautiful blue eyes. His jaw clenched so tightly the veins stood out in his neck. He blinked furiously, looking away, as though he believed that if he held still long enough, they wouldn't fall.
But one did.
A single tear slid down his bruised cheek, catching on the corner of his jaw. An ache bloomed in my chest then.
"It's okay," I whispered, my arms circling him with all the gentleness I had. "It's okay to cry, Killian."
He shook his head, a choked sound clawing out of his throat. But I held him tighter, my palm rubbing slow circles into his back.
"It's okay," I repeated, my own tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "You don't have to carry this alone."
His body trembled against mine.
"You don't understand. I don't.... I don't even deserve to cry," he croaked hoarsely.
My heart cracked open right then. I cupped the back of his head, more tears rolling down my cheeks.
"Don't say that, Killian. It wasn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself," I said, my voice cracking.
Still, he resisted, holding back his tears. It felt as though letting go was the one thing he didn't know how to do.
....
The drive back felt endless. Roman barely spoke, his jaw clenched as he focused on the road. I kept one hand on my belly, the other gripping Killian's fingers. He leaned against the seat, silent. There were shadows under his eyes, the bandage stark against his temple. He hadn't spoken since we left the hospital.
But when the gates finally opened and the car rolled up the driveway, the curtains at the front windows fluttered, and a tiny figure darted out onto the porch, with Sof hiding herself away.
Rue.
Her little legs pumped as fast as they could carry her, her eyes wide and bright. She was shouting his name before the car had even stopped.
"Daddy! Daddy!"
Roman had barely parked the car before I opened the door. Rue didn't wait either, she flung herself straight at Killian, her small body colliding into his legs.
"Daddy, I missed you!" she cried, her little arms clutching him tight.
Killian staggered, caught off guard, and for the first time in days I saw his lips part not in rage or pain, but love. Love that ran deep. Unconditional.
His hand came down slowly as he lowered himself to her height with a wince, trembling as he cupped the back of her head.
Rue tilted her face up, standing on tiptoe. "Mummy said to kiss your head better."
Before he could say a word, she pressed a tiny, sloppy kiss right onto the bandage.
My throat closed, tears pricking my eyes.
Killian's bloodshot eyes widened, his body stiff at first...
Then he melted, pulling her into his arms. His shoulders shook as he buried his face in her curls.
Rue only giggled, patting his cheek with all the seriousness of a healer. "All better, Daddy. No more sad."
I pressed a hand over my mouth, tears slipping free.
...
The house had gone quiet.
Rue had fallen asleep almost as soon as I tucked her in, clutching her stuffed bunny. I lingered at her door a little longer than usual, brushing a kiss over her curls, whispering a prayer that she'd never know the kind of nightmares her father carried.
When I finally slipped into our room, Killian was sitting on the edge of the bed. The lamp cast him in muted gold, shadows deepening the hollows of his face. He sat hunched forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his head bowed. The bandage around his temple was a stark white against his black hair.
For a moment, I just watched him. The rise and fall of his chest. The way his hands clenched and unclenched against his thighs, as though he were wrestling something inside himself.
I padded across the room and eased down beside him, sliding a hand over his back. "You should be lying down."
His jaw flexed, but he didn't look at me. "I can't." His voice was raw and hoarse.
I stayed quiet, rubbing slow circles between his shoulders. Patiently, I waited for him to let me in.
Then, suddenly, he dragged both hands over his face, pressing hard as if he could grind the memories out of his skull. "It should've been me, Sera."
My throat constricted.
"I was supposed to protect them. Protect him." His voice cracked. "Matteo... he hated me for so long, and I hated him too, but when it mattered—he..." He broke off, a sound tearing from him. It was a half growl, half sob. "He saved us. He saved me. And I couldn't save him."
His shoulders shook violently. His eyes squeezed shut, tears breaking past despite the way he tried to hold them back. He turned his face away from me, his shoulders hunched with shame.
Still, I slid closer, wrapping both arms around him as best as I could with my belly pressing between us.
My tears spilled freely, streaking down my cheeks as I pressed my lips against his temple. "Killian," I whispered, my voice trembling, "you don't have to be strong. Not with me. Especially not tonight."
He let out a shuddering breath, a broken sound that made my heart hurt. And then... he gave in.
He folded into me, burying his face against my neck, his arms clutching me close. His body heaved with the sobs he'd locked away, sobs no one else had ever been allowed to hear.
I held him through every one, rocking us gently, whispering over and over, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault."
But deep down, I knew that the guilt would never leave him fully. It would live in his scars and in his dreams.
So I cried with him, because that was all I could give. The promise that he wouldn't have to bleed alone.
And as his tears finally slowed, his hand slid down, resting over the swell of my belly. His thumb brushed against the curve, trembling as he whispered almost too softly for me to hear:
"I can't lose you. Either of you."
Gently, I laid my hand over his. "You won't. Never."
By the time the storm inside him broke, he was shaking with exhaustion. His lashes were clumped from tears, his breathing uneven. His grip on me loosened little by little until his body finally admitted defeat.
"Come," I whispered, guiding him down onto the pillows. He didn't resist.
I tugged the blanket over him, tucking it beneath his chin the way I did for Rue, because tonight, even the fiercest man I knew needed that small tenderness. My fingers threaded into his hair, stroking the soft curls, brushing gently around the bandage.
His arm stayed wrapped around my waist until his breathing began to steady, each rise and fall of his chest becoming slower and deeper. Finally, his hand slipped free, settling heavily over the sheets.
I pressed my palm flat against his chest, right over the steady thud of his heart. The sound echoed into my bones, grounding me. He was alive. Despite everything, he was still here. Still mine.
A tear slipped down my cheek, but this time it was from relief.
I let my head sink against the pillow beside him, curling on my side, my hand resting over his heart.
My eyes fluttered shut. But just then, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I sighed, blinking into the dark.
Killian didn't stir. I reached blindly, sliding the phone into my hand, shielding his eyes from the glow of the screen. My husband was a light sleeper. And it seemed to have gotten worse lately.
A new message was displayed on the screen of my phone:
"Miss me, Kitten?"
My lips twitched.
Of course.
Vincent.
The bastard just didn't know when to stay dead.
I set the phone back down, curling against my husband, letting my fingers rest over the steady beat of his heart.
"Wrong move, Vince," I murmured into the dark, closing my eyes. "You'll wish you hadn't."
If anyone tried to ruin what fragile peace we had now, I was more than ready to put them six feet under.