Chapter 3
Her guttural cries are too much. The sound is ripping my heart straight from my fucking chest.
With my forehead pressed to the bathroom door, I ball my fists so tight my knuckles crack, fighting like hell not to walk in there.
When she stepped inside and slammed the door, it was a clear message. She wanted to be alone, and maybe she thinks that’s what she needs, but fuck, this time, she’s wrong.
Everything that’s happened today… everything she’s learned about Bobbi… fuck, it’s too much to carry alone. And yet, all I can do is stand out here and absorb her pain.
Daniel better not be fucking with us. I hope more than anything, what he said is true. I hope more than anything that her little girl is alive and well so she gets to hold her again. To see her smiles. Soothe her tears. Teach her what love feels like.
I’ll never get that chance again. My Hope will never rise from the dead, and as much as that rips me apart, I have to believe her time for life just wasn’t meant to be yet. One day maybe, she’ll come back. Reborn. Fuck, there’s even a part of me that imagines she’s been reborn in Bobbi.
That’s gotta be why I love a little baby that isn’t mine… right? Why I’d burn the world down for her, just to see her safe.
I struggled not to shoot Daniel on the spot at the airfield. The sick cunt deserves to bleed out for every fucking thing he’s put my Angel through. But when Abbey bolted, too fast for me to catch, I had to remain fucking calm and rational.
We had Daniel. Donny Allen was dead. And Ian is still out there.
Thank fuck Brody was quick thinking, stepping up like a true Southern Sadist. He fucking launched himself through the passenger window of the van Abbey was stealing, his legs hanging out as she sped off.
I thought the fucker was going to fall out.
But he made it in. He answered my frantic fucking phone call.
He relayed every turn they made so I at least knew where she was even if she was getting further and further away.
But at least she wasn’t alone. Brody was there, and he could help me get back to her.
I knock my forehead gently against the door as Abbey’s cries grow desperate, my own eyes burning, my throat tight as her pain drags me under with her.
Fuck. The moment I opened that casket to find nothing but a small sack of sand… for one insane heartbeat I thought it had to be a dream. Thought maybe I’d been shot at that airfield and was bleeding out, trapped in a hallucination.
On the other side of the door, Abbey’s cries turn into chokes, and the moment she starts gagging, my hand is on the knob, and I shove the door open, ready to endure her wrath, because there’s no fucking way I’m standing by while she breaks like this.
“Angel.” I charge into the steam-filled room, yanking the shower door open, my eyes falling to the floor where she’s curled on her side as she retches on nothing but air.
Not giving a fuck about my clothes getting wet, I drop to the floor, haul her into my lap, and wrap her tight against me as the scalding spray drenches us both.
“Fuck, Abs. I’ve got you.” I choke out, holding on while she sobs like she just lost Bobbi all over again.
This is fucking cruel. If Daniel is lying, I’ll make him wish he was never fucking born.
But surely the photo evidence is enough. The text messages between him and his mum have date stamps. It has to be real. It just fucking has to be.
Fuck.
I need it to be… for my Angel.
Abbey tries to speak, but it’s incomprehensible, so I just hold her, my palms gliding over her wet skin, trying to soothe what can’t be soothed, giving her the only thing I can… me.
Then, for a moment, I let myself break too.
I let myself remember the pain of losing Hope. The way it gutted me to live each day knowing I didn’t get to her in time. That helplessness never fades. It chisels into your very being, leaving you hollow with scars that never stop burning. Wounds that never stop bleeding.
We stay there on the shower floor for a long while, Abbey trembling in my arms, her sobs slowly fading into softer cries, until finally, her tears run dry. And then, we just stay quiet, holding on to nothing but each other, taking the moment to just be silent and still and together.
My Angel feels peaceful in these quiet moments, and I start to think she’s fallen asleep, but then, her quiet, husky voice breaks the silence.
“Part of me doesn’t want to believe it, just in case it’s not real,” she whispers into my neck. “But there’s a part of me that never felt like she was gone. Like I knew she still existed, but I thought it was just my mind desperately clinging to her.”
Even though she can’t see it, a faint smile tugs at my lips, and I press them to the top of her head before responding.
“Mothers have intuition about their kids,” I rasp against her hair, pressing my lips to the soaked strands again before continuing. “Maybe you did always know, even if it felt impossible.”
“It still feels impossible.”
“It does,” I admit, my voice rough with emotion. “It’ll take some time to get used to after everything you’ve been through… but we are gonna get her back, Angel. If she’s alive, I’ll burn the fucking world down to bring her home to you. That, I vow.”
Shifting in my lap, Abbey tilts her head back, her blotchy red face lifting until those puffy tear-filled eyes lock on mine.
“Everything but get yourself killed.”
My lips kick up, and her hand lifts, her fingers grazing through the longer length of my beard, her touch so soft it damn near undoes me.
“I’ll try my best to stay alive, Angel.”
“I can’t do this without you, Cam.” Her voice shakes, but her gaze is fierce, like molten caramel searing straight into my fucking soul. “Promise me you won’t get yourself killed.”
I nip at her fingers as they brush my mouth and nod. “I promise I’ll try not to get myself killed.”
She rolls her eyes. “I guess that’ll have to do.”
Leaning in, I press a quick kiss to her lips, fighting the urge to linger, to taste more. Fighting the urge to claim, her bare skin warm against my lap, teasing my control.
Now’s not the fucking time to be imagining my tongue tracing over every inch of her… right?
Fuck. Now I’m getting hard, my cock thickening in my soaked jeans.
Shifting, I somehow manage to stand with Abbey still in my arms. It takes every lick of control I have to not take her the way I’ve been dreaming of. Fuck, maybe I should. It would help her forget, but no. Fuck. Tonight isn’t the right time.
Lowering her feet to the tiles, I reluctantly let my hands fall away from her, taking a step back, forcing space between us before she notices the bulge in my jeans.
“Finish up, Angel. I’ll change into some dry clothes.”
Her red-rimmed eyes lift to mine as a frown pinches her brow, and she opens her mouth to say something, but then stops.
Her gaze drops, slowly roaming over me and the drenched fabric of my shirt plastered to my chest, to the cling of wet denim over my thighs, before her gaze stops, lingering on my crotch.
“What if I want what’s under there?” She points towards my groin, and my fucking cock jerks in anticipation.
“You’ve been through a lot today, Angel.” I take another step back, and her frown morphs into anger.
“So? What? That means I can’t feel good?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” I sigh, pushing the door open. “If you want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to because you know I’m hard. I can deal with it.”
She shakes her head. “That is mine to deal with.”
A low laugh rumbles out of me as I close the shower door. “Like I said, I’ll fuck you if that’s what you want.”
Abbey huffs in the shower. “Then why are you walking away?”
“Because I’d rather throw you around my room than break our necks in the shower.”
A small giggle falls from her, although it’s a little strained.
I know she’d love nothing more than to hunt down Dr Madden now and try to get answers about Bobbi.
I know she’s fighting against every instinct she has to just go on a rampage and tear the world apart until she finds her, but instead, she’s trying like hell to use her head. To take the night to rest and regroup.
I’m tempted to step back inside that shower so I can wrap her in my arms and reassure her that everything’s going to be okay.
But since I don’t actually know that, and since we most definitely will injure ourselves in the shower given how fucking exhausted we both are, I start peeling off my wet clothes and dry myself with a towel.
“I suppose you make a good point.” She sighs, shutting off the water before opening the door. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom then.”
Smirking at my wife, I briefly wonder if I should shut this down.
It’s not that I don’t want her, because fuck, I do. I fucking ache for this woman every second of the day, but I worry she’s using sex as a coping mechanism.
I guess it’s better than turning to the bottle or drugs like some people do, though.
Leaving my soaked clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor, I decide that if my wife wants to feel good, then, fuck it, I’ll give her so much pleasure she won’t have a thought left in her head except me. I’ll fuck her until she passes out and falls into a sleep coma where nothing can touch her.
Abbey is so different from the scared, curious girl that came into my life over four months ago. Now, she’s comfortable with me. My body, and her own. And she’s beginning to discover what she likes in the bedroom.
There are so many things I want to introduce her to. Teach her. Experience with her.
One thing I used to do a lot with Kylie, is tie her up. I started doing it because she was so erratic in bed, and binding her kept her under my control. I enjoyed that side of it, having her at my mercy, and I realise now that I’d been doing that to her for all the wrong reasons.