Chapter 25

He’d held her, rocked her. For about two hours straight, if the glance she’d flicked at his nightglow watch as he’d cradled her was any indication.

Her own tears had flowed, like a deep spring buried in her body suddenly coming forth to meet the glare of real life. Her insides divesting itself of what she’d carried for too long, alone. Always alone.

But she wasn’t alone now.

He’d held her and kissed her face without stopping, his lips wet and salty and sliding on her tear-slicked face as she sobbed. He begged forgiveness unceasingly even though she knew it wasn’t his fault. It had happened.

Sometimes things just happened.

His tears had mingled with hers, and the regret on his face scored deep lines into it.

And now, the dam had burst. Her stomach wasn’t heaving anymore, though for a while it had felt like it was erupting, sheets of muscle in her middle colliding violently with each other. Like it would never quiet again.

They lay together, the earth lumpy below them, his arm around her, holding her close. The thud-thud of his heart sounding in her ears.

And somehow, it had cleared. The numb ache of it was still there, yes. A testament to the fact that little Kayla or Josh would never be forgotten. The little one had lived, yes. For only a short time. But his or her history was intertwined with hers and Dare’s and somehow, now, she could put it to rest.

Her lungs pulled in a raw, soul-scraping sigh. Shifting from him, she raised herself on her elbows and peered at him. Worry was still etched into his face, it seemed there was a new furrow on his brow. Tiny, but it had started.

The little one’s mark.

And something deep inside her shifted. Acknowledged the rightness of it, accepted it.

So be it.

Hopefully, life would never add to it, draw that crease across his brow, long and deep.

Seeing the grief in him over the miscarriage had pacified something in her. And she knew she’d blamed him on some level, all these years.

Now the articles she’d read, even her doctor’s insistence that this was not related to what had gone down didn’t meet with a fight in her.

And yes, he’d cheated.

And she’d been a jerk. Not contacting him, demanding he be the one to chase her.

They’d been young and foolish.

But he’d clawed back through a tropical storm for her. Nobody had ever put themselves in danger for her.

No one.

Dare was still talking, mumbling soothing words at her, encouraging her to lay down, to come back and be warmed by him. Or perhaps…he just needed her.

Yeah. He needed her, just like she needed him.

She tilted her head and listened. “Shhh.”

“Wha— oh. Okay.” Dare quieted and listened too.

And there it was. The sound of the howling had lessened. It was still there—but the storm was passing over.

And the smile just came to her. They were going to be okay. Lightness, a joy held down too long, lifted and soared through her chest. “It’s dying down out there. We’re good, Dare. We’re going to be alright.”

“Come back to bed.” He patted the thin shirt beside him. At her expression, he capitulated. “Let’s just rest. We’ll deal with whatever.” He gave her a half-grin, but underneath it there was a flicker of grief. “Like we always do.”

The last sentence was a croon, and she fell back down to the ground which had sheltered them, back to his side, and pressed against the length of him as he drew her close.

He sighed, and she felt his belly relax under her palm. “Sometimes things are a bit different when the winds die down, but we'll see. We just have to wait until morning.”

She allowed her body to ease. And knew sleep would come. So much had happened in the last day, she needed a respite. Perhaps the few hours remaining until dawn would be good to them, and she could catch a break. Heal some more.

One last thought came to her as she drifted off. “Dare?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m glad you came back.”

His voice was muffled, but she heard his response, just before she joined him in slumber.

“You were here. I couldn’t stay away.”