Chapter Seventeen
Jase
She was home.
When I’d first slowed for the driveway and spotted her SUV under the carport, relief crashed through me, followed by a wave of paralyzing fear.
What if she didn’t stay?
What if she was only grabbing her stuff and leaving me for good?
Resisting the urge to block in her vehicle because I would not be that guy, I parked in my spot and scrambled from the truck, anxiety making every movement jerky. At the steps, I fumbled off my boots, my gut tied in heavy knots. Once inside, I pulled the door shut too hard.
Her purse lay on the table, key fob next to it.
Please, please, let her be home for good.
“Tyler?” Hell, saying her name hurt. I needed her to stay, for us to be okay.
No answer, and I jogged through the living room and down the hall to our room. The door to the guest room was open, light spilling into the hallway, but all I cared about was getting to her.
She wasn’t in our room, so I strode to the bathroom, the lights on in there, too. Breathing hard, and not from the jog down the hall, I rested my palms on the doorframe. “Hey.”
Clutching her makeup bag and piling her straightening iron on top, she didn’t respond, although the sidelong glance she gave me was almost an eye roll. Her toiletries lay scattered over the countertop, and I frowned, stomach dropping.
“What are you doing?” I dug my fingers into the doorframe. Was she packing up and leaving?
She didn’t speak, completely shut off from me. The loss of our connection, the way she’d looked at me when I came home every day before this clusterfuck, soft and happy to see me, rolled nausea through me.
Fucking Elizabeth stopping her birth control so her dress would look better. Not telling me when we’d agreed not to risk a pregnancy until we’d been married a couple of years.
We’d agreed.
She only cared about herself, what she wanted.
Holy hell, what kind of mother would she be?
Terror sent dread skating down my spine, but I clamped down on the spiral. Giving into fear wouldn’t help me. I’d cross that later. Right now, I had bigger problems – like my wife leaving me.
Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking about her.”
“How pissed I am.” I dragged a hand through my hair. At least she was talking to me, although her voice rang rusty and clipped. “How I don’t want this.”
She snorted, the derision scraping over my skin. “Should’ve thought about that before you went there bare.”
Anger flashed through me, righteous temple-table-tossing fury.
“That’s not fair.” My jaw ached from how hard I clenched my teeth, and a taut pain sat dead center in my chest. “I get you’re mad. I’m mad. But how was I supposed to know she stopped her birth control? Tell me what I should have done differently?”
The noise she made dripped disdain. “Looked past those pretty looks of hers and seen who she really was sooner.”
I deflated, staring at her impassive face. She blamed me for this. My life – our life – was falling apart, the wreckage around my feet like the end result of a catastrophic engine failure. I needed her.
And she blamed me.
Examining her expression, I fought through the hurt. Tiny lines framed her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. She was hurting, maybe even scared since fear liked to masquerade behind anger.
And I was struggling with this from a place where I’d had a secure upbringing.
She’d grown up knowing nothing was secure. This situation would be like her childhood fears rising all over again. Fear didn’t live with rational thinking, either. If she was scared, then my responsibility was to be unshaken and secure, for her.
And our boy.
I forced my body to relax. Her narrowed eyes tracked the line of my shoulders.
“Can’t make it easy if you take off every time things get tough.”
“Easy?” Her whole face tightened, and she scoffed. “How are you going to make this easy?”
“If it’s mine–”
Another scoff fell between us and pissed me off. I wrestled the annoyance down. This whole situation was the worst possible surprise when I knew she didn’t like being broadsided. If our situations were reversed, I’d be scared and pissed off, too.
“If it’s mine, I can be as no contact with her as possible. Use one of those coparenting apps.”
Shane and Krista had one because they couldn’t be in the same space without sniping.
It seemed to work for them, so I’d been looking at them when I had a moment during the day.
The research gave me something concrete to think about instead of our empty bed and too-quiet house.
Instead of how she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, how she might not come back to me.
“I can do my visitation at Mama and Daddy’s.” The idea made me a little nauseated. Coney was a small town. How was I supposed to raise two kids who would be siblings without them ever knowing one another?
Something pained flitted over her face.
I swallowed, my voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I know it’s a lot.”
That small snort had to burn her nose. “You have no idea.”
Well, yeah, I kinda did, but I wasn’t saying that out loud. She could walk if it was too hard, so I’d be coparenting twice.
She could choose easy and leave.
I had no choice but to walk the hard rows.
And looked like I might be walking those long, hard rows alone.
The idea hollowed out my chest and made the backs of my eyes burn.
“I’m moving into the guest room.”
I nodded. Really, what had I expected? To come home and find her waiting for me with open arms in our room? I was disappointed, but not surprised. At least she was here.
A hint of disappointment flickered through her eyes when I didn’t argue.
A quiet sigh shuddered free of my chest. “Hungry?”
Her jaw firmed, and she lifted her chin. “I can feed myself.”
“You can.” I shrugged. Maybe if I gave her some space, made being here easier. “I was going to throw together grilled pimiento cheese sandwiches. Just as easy to make four as three.”
Indecision warred on her face, her mouth tight and unhappy. She gave a clipped nod. “Okay. I’m going to finish moving my things.”
With another nod, I stepped back and spun, walking back up the hall, passing our baby’s room and the guest room, waiting for her.
Disappointment and a crazy sense of being abandoned gripped my throat so I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t get a good inhale.
She’d lived with this sensation her whole life, and I was falling apart after twenty-four hours.
She was absolutely the strongest person I knew, and I loved her.
And the weakest person I knew threatened everything I’d managed to create for Tyler.
In the kitchen, I bent forward, resting my forehead on the counter, my gut cramping. I squeezed my burning eyes shut.
Damn it, Elizabeth.