Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
HARRIET
Warren’s usual mask of choice is quiet indifference or stern protectiveness. Over the months, I’ve witnessed those masks slipping, giving way to a vulnerable side he so desperately tries to hide from the world.
Tonight, he was scared. His face was unrecognizable, painted in horror.
Touch seemed to be the only comfort. I was scared.
Adrenaline still pumped through my body from the accident, but a new fear took hold of me when he turned his stricken face to me in the bathroom.
Physically, he stood in front of me; mentally, he was in a nightmare.
The last time I saw the same expression was the night at his parent’s house.
He’s returned to me, to himself, but tension unfurls from his rigid body as we sit on the sofa. Our bowls are empty, and we don’t speak, both of us staring into the flickering flames.
What do I do next? What does he need? How can I stop whatever horrors he was replaying from returning? Which is when a little foot or fist takes a pop at my belly button.
“Oh! They’re kicking.” I grab Warren’s arm without thinking and press his hand to my stomach.
He blinks out of his stupor, and his eyes light with anticipation. He shuffles closer, waiting.
I frown. “They’re being stubborn. Let me lie on my back.”
Warren stands. With my head resting on the arm of the sofa and legs stretched out in front of me, I lift my shirt and gesture at my belly. “Try now.”
He hesitates for a beat before rubbing his palms together and blowing into them. Kneeling beside me, he slowly lowers both hands. I jump slightly at the contact—not because they’re cold, but because the feel of his skin sends a current of electricity through my veins.
He doesn’t take his eyes off my belly as he waits.
“C’mon, Button.” I poke my side. “Say hi to Daddy.”
“Hey, little one.” Warren clears his throat, not enough to hide the emotion thickening his voice. “I bet you’re nice and snug in there, huh? I can’t wait to meet you.”
My heart swells. God, I want to kiss him again. Maybe this is the welcome distraction he needs.
A small thump under his palm has him sucking in a breath. “Is that…”
And again.
“That’s our baby saying hello.”
A new mask slips over Warren’s face, something of complete wonderment. It might be my favorite yet. Scratch that—my favorite is the smile stretching wide as he peers up at me, cheek resting on my stomach.
“Pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
“It is.” The air gets caught in my throat when he leans over and brushes his lips where his hands rested. “Like their mama. So beautiful and brave.”
I press my hand to his jaw, drawing his face to meet mine again.
I can’t shake the feeling Warren’s fear didn’t originate purely from my accident.
Triggered, yes, but the terror runs deep through to his bones.
“See, we’re okay. More than okay, because you’re looking after us. We’re lucky to have you.”
An awareness washes over him, his body tensing slightly. “When you called to tell me you were in an accident…”
“You were scared?”
He nods, eyes lowering as he shuffles through his thoughts.
“You can talk to me.” I drag my nails through the stubble growing on his face. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”
“Harriet. I’m…” He swallows. “I have PTSD.”
I blink in shock. The surprise comes more from his sudden admission more than anything. I go to respond, but he continues, as if speaking the truth for the first time triggers an avalanche.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I’m working hard to overcome it. I’m seeing a therapist. It rarely impacts my ability to do my job these days, but tonight, I went to a dark place.”
I hesitate, not wanting to push him past what he’s comfortable sharing. I can’t imagine the scenes he and his colleagues have witnessed over the years, and though I don’t know many firefighters, PTSD must be common.
“Where did you go?”
His mouth opens, but no words follow.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell.” I sit up and rest my hands on his shoulders.
I expect him to accept my offer and to end the conversation.
“I attended a call once during a spell of storms battering the city. Flooding, mudslides, power cuts. People lost their homes…and lives.” The storms he mentions were before I moved here, but I know of them.
“The banks of a river burst, forcing the city to close a lot of major roads. It was close to midnight when we received a report of an overturned vehicle along the highway. It’s suspected they hydroplaned and lost control.
” His eyes glaze over as he recalls the details.
“She was pronounced dead on arrival. They reckon it happened hours earlier, but with the road closed, no one was around to witness it. Or help her.”
His voice is despondent, completely void to mirror his vacant expression. I don’t dare move or speak, wanting to give him a safe space to share.
“Not long after, I was diagnosed with PTSD and signed off work for four months. I saw a handful of therapists and was prescribed a cocktail of medications.” His somber eyes meet mine, and his next words tumble from his lips in a broken whisper while his hand drifts to my stomach.
“They helped to an extent, but I’ve never been able to forget that call.
The woman…She…” Warren’s breathing starts increasing again and I panic flares in his eyes.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything tonight.”
His expression is torn, a mix of gratitude and indecision when I interrupt him but he calms before continuing.
“The therapist I’m seeing now is conditional upon me returning to full-duties. Before we met, I began struggling again. I’m ashamed to say ignorance was my go-to for a long time. I’d attend appointments to appease my family but saw no real impact. Until recently.”
“What changed?”
“You.”
My lips part.
He notes my disbelief. “For a long time, I convinced myself being alone was the safest option. No one needed to witness me at my lowest or when the night terrors became unmanageable. It’s why I didn’t stay the other week.
Meeting you forced me to look at my life through a new lens, and I didn’t like what I saw.
I want to be the best version of myself for you.
It’s why I asked for things to go slow.” His voice cracks, and a deep sadness clouds his features.
“I just wanted you to know, and if this changes anything, I understand.”
What a foolish, beautiful, caring man.
I press my palms to the sides of his face, refusing to let his gaze wander.
“This version, the one in front of me, is more than enough. It’s the one I’m falling for.
Have fallen for.” I trace the lines across his strong brow.
“Working through your past shouldn’t be because of me or even your job.
It should be because you want to see a change, Warren.
I’ll be there every step of the way if you let me. Do you know why?”
He blinks twice before jerking his head.
“Because you and me, we’re a team.”
“A team,” he whispers before kissing the inside of my wrist.
“Exactly.” I press our foreheads together. “I’m proud of you. For how far you’ve come and the work you’re putting in. I’ll be here for you you’re ready to tell me more.”
Exhaustion presses on his shoulders, and dark crescents line his eyes. Something in his gaze tells me there’s more, but we both need this hellish evening to end.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whisper.
The kiss he gives me is gentle, softer than silk. Such gentle pressure, yet despite the delicateness of his lips, I feel every movement in the depths of my soul.
“Okay.”
Then, I’m airborne again.
For all my complaining earlier, I don’t make a peep as he carries me upstairs. Even as we brush our teeth and prepare for bed, Warren’s touch finds a home on my skin. He needs this.
It’s only when we stand at the foot of the bed that it falls away.
Apprehension twists his features.
He’s nervous about staying the night. Now knowing about his PTSD, his night terrors and avoidance of staying the night make sense. I’m determined to give him a safe space to land.
“It won’t offend me if you leave,” I offer.
“I want to stay.” He gulps before glancing at me. “They don’t happen often. Not anymore. If I do wake and it’s bad, I’ll move to the sofa.”
“Let’s try.” I guide him to lie with me under the covers, tucking them high and cocooning us in. “It’s me and you. I’m here.”
I’m dragged into his tight embrace, my back to his front. One hand rests on the swell of my stomach while the other lays over my heart. It takes some time for him to relax, but eventually, his breaths even, and his body slumps into the mattress. I stop fighting my exhaustion and join him.
The next time I open my eyes, the birds tweet, the sun sneaks through the curtains, and Warren snores softly into my neck.