Chapter 26
Icouldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t figure out how to make my lungs work as my heart tripped all over itself and emotions crashed through me—too powerful and chaotic to sort through or grasp.
Terror, wonder, disbelief, joy, worry . . . I was sure those were in there, but I couldn’t really be sure of anything at the moment. Not when I was experiencing everything so forcefully. Not when it felt like I’d just endured the most insane whiplash.
All from something I hadn’t even known there’d been a potential for until this morning. And now, there it was. The proof of a night I couldn’t remember. The result of something I hadn’t been anticipating.
Two pink lines.
Even though there were pressing things that needed all our attention at the office, Briggs had canceled the morning meeting for the first time ever to send Mallory and me right back out of Shadow.
With a knowing look from her to me, he’d said, “Let me know if y’all aren’t making it back today,” before heading to his office.
Mallory hadn’t spoken throughout the drive to the store or to her condo, but when I’d reached over to rest a hand on her thigh, she’d gripped it like a lifeline. It was the only thing I’d taken comfort in during the excruciating minutes when she’d locked herself in her bathroom.
I gripped the bathroom counter as my stare swept over the test again. Pregnant.
“We weren’t allowed to talk about it,” Mallory said numbly.
My head tipped her way, but I still couldn’t seem to form any kind of response.
But she went on without any further prompting from me. “We weren’t allowed to talk about anything that wasn’t training and battle strategies and war.”
Her family.
Right.
“So, there wasn’t—I didn’t . . .” She waved a hand over her body before letting it fall heavily to her side.
“Even with my mom, I couldn’t talk to her when things started happening or changing, I just had to figure it out.
Searched her bathroom and stole things from her until she realized she needed to buy them for me.
But even then, it wasn’t mentioned.” She weakly lifted a shoulder.
“And I knew how to get pregnant because people talk and because of health class, but that was all.” She swallowed thickly, embarrassment seeping through her stone-like exterior.
“That was all I knew. The only time it was mentioned in my family was to tell me I wouldn’t be welcome home if I ever found myself pregnant. But the rest?”
A self-deprecating laugh tumbled from her as she turned tear-filled eyes on me.
“I’m clearly the most incompetent female to ever female, Gray.
I can’t do this. I don’t know anything about—” she faltered as she scrambled for words.
“Anything. I don’t even know my own body.
I can’t do this,” she repeated through clenched teeth.
Pushing away from the counter, I pulled her into my arms and held her tight as the first sob ripped through her. “We’ll figure it out,” I finally managed to say, the words twisted and strained as they worked past the emotion gripping my throat.
“I don’t want kids.”
My chest wrenched at the reminder, but I just nodded before pressing my mouth to the top of her head. “I know, Peach.”
There was so much to be done at the office. There were dozens of unanswered texts from my cousins, and more coming in. But even if she hadn’t married me, the girl in my arms would always be more important than anything waiting for us outside this condo.
Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I sent a message to Briggs, letting him know we weren’t coming back, then led Mallory out of the bathroom and to her bed.
She didn’t ask what I was doing when I pulled back the covers. She didn’t fight me as I tugged her down onto the center of the bed or pulled the comforter back over us. She just let me hold her as she clung to my shirt.
This Mallory . . .
I loved her fierceness and strength. I loved her stubbornness and the way she couldn’t seem to let anything slide without turning it into a fight.
But this side of her just might do me in.
I let her cry until those shields slowly formed around her, but she didn’t pull away or release her grip on me when she asked, “What are we going to do?”
We.
Because that was finally a reality for us, and now there was—
I cut off that line of thinking before I could get trapped in it, then focused on the girl in my arms. Trailing one of my hands through her long hair and down her back, I kept my voice low when I said, “Right now? We’re gonna sleep because we only got a few hours this morning.
We’ll figure everything else out after.”
Tipping my head down, I searched her guarded stare and leaned in to pass my mouth across her forehead as I vowed, “We’ll figure it out.”
The other side of the bed was empty and cold when I woke, but even if I hadn’t heard her subtle shifts behind me, I would’ve known she was still in the room.
It would’ve been impossible not to when I’d spent over a decade memorizing the energy surrounding Mallory Monroe.
“I know you’re awake,” she murmured, making the corner of my mouth twitch.
Rolling onto my back, I glanced to the side and faltered when I saw what she was doing.
Knowing how desperately she’d tried keeping this from me, I was surprised she was doing it near me at all, and a part of me was afraid she’d stop if I moved too quickly.
So, I kept my movements slow and silent as I sat up and placed my feet on the floor, stare quickly taking in the wall she was standing in front of.
Before I realized it, I was just a foot behind her, eagerly studying the multiple new paintings, given the shine of the wet paint.
A hunched figure, caught in a shadowy vortex. Fingertips disappearing beneath a tumultuous sea. And a woman, unprotected and wholly unprepared for the battle at her back.
“Don’t,” she breathed in warning. “Just . . . don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I asked just as softly, since she could be warning me from so many things right then.
She could be begging me not to comment on the paintings that so clearly showed how she felt. She could be asking me not to bring up the very real situation we needed to address. She could even be warning me from touching her.
Mallory’s head tilted a little before she shook it and quickly swiped her brush through more paint. “This isn’t meant for anyone else.”
I didn’t remind her she was painting in a room I’d been in. I didn’t mention that I’d already spent hours studying the rest of her condo’s walls the night she’d locked herself in here. I didn’t point out that she was still painting, all while I stood directly behind her.
I just muttered, “I’m not just anyone, Peach.”
Her hand stilled on the way back to the wall before she returned to the nearly-finished battle. Her hushed, “I know,” barely loud enough for me to hear.
But I heard it, and it had me taking that last step and carefully slipping my hand around her waist, pulling her close to me as I brushed my mouth across her neck. All while I fought the undeniable urge to press my hand to her flat stomach.
Even if I hadn’t had a visual representation of her thoughts, I would’ve known she needed time to even get used to the idea that she was pregnant, let alone be happy about it.
I’d give her time.
“I want to go back to the office,” she said suddenly, determination in her voice.
Not that kind of time . . .
“We should take the day,” I argued. “Talk.”
Her head moved in small, stubborn shakes as she shifted only far enough away from me to continue painting, while still remaining in my hold. “Not today.” Again, there was that determination in the words, but it didn’t fully mask her desperation.
“Peach—”
“There’s a lot happening at work,” she said over me, “and Tessa needs to be found.” A thoughtful hum rose in her throat. “Your phone kept going off while you were sleeping.”
I didn’t look back at where I’d tossed my phone onto the nightstand before falling asleep, I just watched as she painted before saying, “We need to talk, Mallory. This isn’t something we can just ignore.”
The hand holding the paintbrush twitched, but she just carefully moved it away from the wall as she drew in a pacifying breath. “I can’t—Gray, I can’t get my thoughts to settle for even a second. I need—just give me a day. I’ll figure out how I’m going to take care of this then.”
I wasn’t sure my body had ever locked up so forcefully so quickly.
It was painful.
Or maybe that was the shattering of my soul at her implication.
Denials and pleas gathered and choked me as I stood there, feeling like every scene she’d painted in the time I’d been asleep, feeling exactly like what she’d just described: Like I couldn’t get my thoughts to settle.
Don’t.
I love you.
You’re just scared.
I love you.
I know this isn’t what you want, but there are other options.
I love you.
You don’t know what you’d be doing . . . to all of us.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Eventually, I managed to force out the only consistent thought. “I love you,” scraped past the gravel in my throat as I made myself release her and turn away.
Passing a hand over my face, I drew in slow, methodical breaths before focusing on just taking one step. Then another. Until I made it to the nightstand, when all I wanted was to wrap Mallory up in my arms and beg her to understand what she was saying.
But I knew her.
Even with this new side of Mallory that kept surprising me at every turn, I knew doing that when she was in shock and denial would cause those shields she loved so much to snap into place.
And as much as I loved pushing her toward the inevitable resulting fight, I wasn’t sure I had the mental strength for one.
Besides, I needed her to be able to talk to me.
Resisting the urge to even glance back at her, I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and ignored the shaking of my hand as I tapped on the screen.