Chapter Nineteen
Jase
Dusk cast shadows across the yard when I pulled to a stop under the carport. Tyler’s SUV sat in its spot, so she was here although the realization brought no joy.
She didn’t have to leave the house to leave me. Arms and shoulders aching – I’d busted my ass today, trying to keep my mind occupied – I rested my forehead on the wheel. An exhale shuddered out of me, my lungs squeezing.
So damn fucked.
Sitting in the truck feeling sorry for myself wouldn’t make me less fucked, though.
I allowed myself two more deep breaths, then snatched the keys from the ignition and straightened. The dread sitting heavy in my chest was far from the excited joy I’d felt coming home to Tyler just a few short days ago.
My boots scraped on the concrete, and I toed out of them at the steps, like I always did. My limbs hung heavy, too, all of me weighted down, a weariness deeper than wrestling hydraulics in a wet field.
Something spicy and rich met me when I opened the back door.
At the stove, Tyler stood stirring in the stockpot I’d inherited from Grandma, and I froze, the moment like a hallucination of the life we’d been building.
Loss clutched at my throat. I’d wanted us, so damn bad, and all of it lay in ruins.
She glanced sideways at me, her gaze shuttered, mouth in a dejected line. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Her sorrowful air slugged me in the gut. I’d hoped with a little time we’d find our way through this together. But she was unhappy. I could not – would not – ask her to stay with me in a scenario in which she was miserable.
I loved her too much for that.
“I made a pot of vegetable soup.” She set the spoon aside, turning to face me full on. She fiddled with her rings, and I followed the tense movements, envisioning her hand bare again. The idea of her taking them off punched dead center of my chest, winding me. “Can we talk over supper?”
My throat closed up. She was going to tell me she was leaving for real. Unable to speak around the lump in my throat, I nodded.
Silence stretched between us, and I swallowed, pushing down the hurt and fear. I jerked my chin toward the back of the house. “Let me grab a quick shower.”
In another life, she might have joined me, laughing and kissing me under the hot spray until I pinned her against the wall and turned her giggles to moans. Yeah.
That life was gone now.
Made me want to cry like a baby.
In the shower, I washed up fast, refusing to let myself press my forehead to the tile and bawl. Time enough for that later when I was in our bed, alone.
When I made it back to the kitchen clad in sweats and a T-shirt, Tyler was plating grilled cheese sandwiches.
While she ladled soup into a pair of bowls, I added ice and tea to glasses for us.
I set the glasses on the table, attention snagging on her watercolor stuff spread over the bar between the kitchen and breakfast nook.
The paper was big, like the piece she'd done for the baby's room, but I couldn't tell what the blend of pink and blue and yellow was supposed to be yet.
We sat in our normal chairs, with her to my left, and I stared at my food, unable to imagine taking a bite. I was hungry since I’d only managed to choke down half a ham sandwich at lunch. But my stomach rebelled now at the idea of food.
And I didn’t miss too many meals.
“So I was thinking.” Tyler swirled her spoon through her soup, an oval followed by a figure eight.
“Yeah?” My voice came out as a harsh rasp. Pretty sure I was about to hear how she’d been thinking about us splitting up.
“This baby . . . if it’s yours . . . didn’t do anything wrong.
” She didn’t look at me, but that was just her, how she handled tough subjects.
Most things she could look dead on at, but probably not this.
Hell, I didn’t want to look at it, even though she was right.
None of this was the baby’s fault. “You didn’t do anything wrong, other than get involved with someone selfish and conniving. ”
I swallowed, bitterness thick at the back of my mouth, when I should be grateful. “I didn’t want you hurt because of me. Wanted to give you the easy you were looking for.”
“You do. Everything between us is easy. Life is hard.” A beat fell. Her spoon clinked against the side of her bowl, a soft noise that scraped over my raw nerves. “It’s not fair to let life be hard for that baby because I don’t want to handle a challenge.”
My lungs shut down, breath hitching. Hope pushed up in my chest, and I shoved it down. I couldn’t afford that yet. “What are you saying?”
She lifted her gaze to mine, something soft and evocative in her eyes. Not shattered the way she’d been since I told her about Elizabeth. No, I was looking at my Tyler again, cautious but with me.
“I’m saying I’m your wife and you’re my husband.” Her voice was soft, too, filled with hushed emotion. “We’re going to have a baby together and somehow we’ll take care of both your children.”
My eyes burned, and I blinked hard, lashes wet. Relief crashed through me, followed by gratitude so heavy I couldn’t hold it.
“Tyler.” My voice broke on her name, and she smiled, bottom lip trembling. She covered my hand with hers.
She was here.
She was with me, wasn’t leaving me. I couldn’t sit still with that.
Lunging from my chair, I fell on my knees next to her chair and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face against her. Above me, she made a quiet noise before sinking her fingers into my hair.
Stroking my head, she sighed. “I love you, Jase.”
I froze, fingers clenched on her thighs. Lifting my head, I stared into her eyes. With a tremulous smile, she touched my jaw.
“I do.” She caressed the corner of my mouth. “And we’ll be all right, all of us.”