2. Katy
2
Katy
I can’t breathe.
The arms around me are too tight.
The rain is too loud.
There’s so much blood.
I’m so wet and cold.
He’s not breathing. Why isn’t he breathing?
Bang!
My hands. My hands are covered in blood. Who’s blood? There’s so much of it; I don’t know where it’s coming from. My ears are ringing, and the rain is pouring down and…and…
Viktor!
“No, Viktor. Viktor, wake up. Wake up!”
Arms wrap around my stomach. “Get away from me!”
“Katy.”
They won’t let go, no matter how hard I shake.
“The baby is mine. You can’t have him. He’s mine.”
“Pepper, wake up.”
No. Viktor needs to wake up. He’s so pale. Why won’t he wake up?
“Katy, sweetheart, you’re dreaming.” Gentle hands caress my cheeks, and they feel nothing like the harsh grip of the man trying to steal me and my baby. “Shhhh. Wake up for me. Open your eyes.”
I can’t open them. My baby is safe right now. Viktor is still here. He’s hurt, but he’s here.
The air around me thins, and I feel like I’m flying. I’m surrounded by warmth. Have I died, too? Is this heaven? I’m too young. I didn’t get to live.
A finger sweeps across my cheek, and I feel wetness.
“Come on, Pepper. Wake up for me. You’re safe. I’m fine, and Owen is sleeping.” The voice is gentle and soothing.
Owen. Owen !
I sit up with a gasp, sucking in air.
“Owen.” A baby monitor is handed to me, and I see an angelic, dark-haired toddler sleeping in a crib. I put my hand to my stomach—my flat stomach.
My groggy brain tries to connect all the information in front of me. I’m not pregnant. There’s a sleeping baby in a crib, and I’m… I look under me and realize I’m in someone’s lap. I follow the line of his shirtless body to a scar on his abdomen. Further up is a muscular chest with almost translucent hair. A light blond beard surrounds his jaw, and his thin lips are slightly turned down.
I can pretend everything I’m seeing is still part of my nightmare, but when my brown eyes lock with his silver-blues, I take a breath that feels like I was drowning before I saw him.
“Viktor.” I throw myself into his chest. He’s here. He’s not bleeding out on the front seat. His body isn’t cold and lifeless in my arms. “Viktor.” His name is a sign of relief. His large hands smooth over the back of my tank top, and I finally feel grounded back into reality.
“Are you back, Pepper? That was a bad one.” I nod into his chest and inhale his rich, spicy scent.
The realization of what I’m doing comes flooding into my consciousness, and I jump off his lap, putting distance between us.
“Viktor.” I look around the room and realize I’m in the pool house, which means Owen is safely down the hall, asleep in my old bedroom. “You’re shirtless.”
He sits up, giving me a sheepish look, and rubs his hand on his chest.
“Yeah. Sorry, I got hot. If you’re okay now, I’ll leave you to get back to sleep.” He moves to stand, and without thinking, I grab his thigh.
“No. Please stay.” Realizing what I’m doing, I swiftly pull my hand back. “Sorry, just…please stay for a little while longer. You’re right. That was a bad one.”
Torture flashes through his eyes as I’m sure he knows what my nightmare was about.
“Sure. Come here.” He moves back to lean on the headboard and lifts his arm in offering. I scoot across the bed and curl up into his side.
At night, when we’re most vulnerable, is the only time he allows himself to accept any comfort. Despite doing everything he could that day, he holds onto all the guilt. He officially died that night, but my family brought him back.
For months after his discharge, he came and slept on the couch in the living room of the big house. Some nights, I’d wake up, and he’d be asleep on my bedroom floor.
To him, his scar is a constant reminder of his failure two years ago, but to me, it’s a reminder that I’m alive because he saved me. And by saving me, he saved Owen. Viktor allowed me to be a mother.