Chapter 6 #2
It wasn’t until she was fresh out of tears and sadness that the rage finally took over.
And the guilt. She’s been stupid to go this long at work and not disclose her pregnancy.
The woman on the stand had lost her baby because of her husband’s anger, not her job as a secretary; meanwhile Krista was recklessly endangering her child every day by going to work.
Brock was right.
Damn him.
She needed to switch to light duty, needed to be responsible and think about more than just her career.
It used to mean everything to her, but now, there was something bigger, something more important.
She cradled her abdomen with her hands and vowed to her unborn child that tomorrow she was going to march into Staff Sergeant Wicks’ office and request the change.
She needed to start being responsible. She needed to start thinking about someone besides herself.
Unsure of the time, but exhausted from the day and mental toll it had taken, Krista passed out on the couch sometime between the house-flipping show and the garden renovation show only to wake up the next morning at 5 a.m. to the sound of someone coming in the front door.
Disoriented and exhausted, Krista sprang up from her spot on the couch, aware of the drool puddle beneath her chin but not caring enough about it at the moment.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her eyes adjusting to the light in the living room as they scanned the area for a weapon of sorts.
“Me.” Followed by a grunt and then heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Seconds later, his head popped up behind the wall separating the living room from the stairs.
Unable to control herself or the magnitude of emotions of the last few days, Krista leaped up off the couch and hurled herself into his arms.
“Oof,” was all he said as his arms made their way around her.
Brock was bagged from the last few days of following around the high-profile celebrity in Vancouver, but all that vanished when a look of pure defeat and terror met him at the top of the stairs.
His nose fell to her hair, and he inhaled before he knew what he was doing.
Fuck, she smelled good. She always smelled good.
Felt good in his arms, too.
“You okay?” he asked. She was crying against his shirt, and the man was at a loss. He’d never really been in a relationship long enough to have to deal with the emotional roller coaster that was a woman. Sure, he’d dealt with PMS, but this seemed way more than that. And then it hit him. The baby.
Panic flooded him at the thought that Krista might have miscarried while he was away. Grabbing her by the elbows, he pushed her away from him, stepping down one stair so that they could be eye-to-eye. “Krista!” He shook her gently. “What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?”
She was staring at her purple and yellow striped socks, her hair an untameable halo around her head and hanging in her face. But he saw her nod, and he exhaled. The baby was okay.
Swallowing past the hard lump of dread in his throat, he nodded with her and stepped up, leaving his bag at the top of the stairs and pulling her around and into the living room where they could sit down.
“What’s wrong?” That’s when he noticed that her nose and around her eyes was a mottled blue and purple. What the fuck?
Her slight body trembled and breath hitched as she fought the sobs, still unable to look at him.
Moving his hands up to her shoulders, he shook her again. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong. Who did this to you? Is the baby okay?”
It was several agonizing seconds later before she finally lifted her head, her beautiful blue eyes glassy and red-rimmed from all the tears. “You were right,” she whispered. “I need to switch to light duty.”
Brock’s eyes went wide, and emotions he wasn’t even able to label hit him like a dam breaking. “What happened?”
Averting her gaze, she studied the floor just behind his shoulder.
“There was an incident at work with a man we had in custody. He attacked Slade and then me when I tried to help. I could have lost the baby with how hard he hit me. I went to the ER after work and double-checked everything was okay, and it is. The baby is fine. And then yesterday I had to go to court for that domestic assault, the one where she did lose the baby … ” Her bottom lip jutted out, but she quickly tucked it behind her teeth to keep her composure.
Her gaze shifted, and she met his eyes once again.
“I’m sorry. You were right. You win. I’m going to go in today and request light duty.
I don’t want to endanger our baby any longer.
I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn.” Then she crumpled against him, and the tears were back.
He carried her over to the couch and plopped her onto his lap, doing the only thing he could think of, and that was hold her.
It seemed to be enough.
Roughly forty-five minutes later, Brock watched Krista head to work.
She’d rattled him this morning. More than any woman, possibly any person ever had.
He’d begun to admire and enjoy her stubbornness—for the most part.
It showed her strength, and damn if his woman wasn’t as strong as they came.
But it also pissed him off that she still hadn’t switched to light duty at work.
He’d thought about putting Rex on her detail and having him follow Krista while she was on shift just in case she got into any trouble.
But his brother didn’t know about the pregnancy yet, and he didn’t want Rex to think he was some psycho stalker guy who didn’t trust the woman he was currently sleeping with.
But to see her so broken, so defeated and deflated, hadn’t made him feel good.
He hadn’t won anything, as she’d said, besides maybe peace of mind.
Even that didn’t do much to ease the turmoil and confusion roiling inside him.
He wanted her and the baby safe. Their safety, their lives were his number one priority.
What had it cost her? The spark was gone from her eyes.
The fight and feistiness seemed to have vanished in those two days he was gone.
She’d barely been able to get herself ready for work once she’d stopped crying and all but choked back the smoothie he made her for breakfast. And it’d all been done with sullen eyes and robotic movements.
Had he broken her? Had Slade? He’d never be able to forgive himself if it was the former, and Slade wouldn’t be breathing much longer if it turned out to be the latter.