8. Chapter 8
8
“ I ’m not going to pry,” Bastian said, his words slicing through the tension that thickened around us the longer we sat in silence across from one another at our tiny table in the Suzzallo coffee shop.
Sitting stiffly in my chair, I stared at the plastic lid on the coffee cup held captive in the circle of my fingers.
“But if you want to talk,” he added. “I’m here.”
I glanced at Bastian and flashed him a weak smile. “I don’t want to shock you,” I deflected.
His dimple appeared as his lips curved into a lopsided grin. “Impossible.”
I sighed and relaxed back in my seat, focusing on my coffee cup as I slowly spun it around and around on the table, using only my fingertips. “I was a teen mom,” I said, glancing at Bastian again, just a flick of my eyes, before returning my stare to the cup. “I was fifteen when I, um, well, some stuff happened, and I ended up alone and living on the street.”
My voice took on a hollow tone as I recalled things I had refused to think about for years.
“A group of kids took me in.” I took a deep breath, then corrected myself. “A group of boys took me in.” Again, I glanced at Bastian. His darkening expression told me he picked up on the unsavory meaning behind my correction. “They didn’t force me, exactly,” I said, my focus returning to the cup. “I had a choice, and I chose the food, shelter, and relative security they offered in exchange for . . . well, you know.”
I shifted my jaw to the side, considering my next words. After a deep inhale and exhale, I continued. “One of them was different from the others,” I said. “Wes. He stood up for me, and he was bigger and older than the other boys, meaner—to them, not to me—so they backed off.” The ghost of a smile touched my lips. “We fell in love. But we were dumb kids, so of course I ended up pregnant.” I paused, closing my eyes as I took a shaky breath.
When I opened my eyes again, I looked at Bastian, but my focus drifted beyond him to the wall. To the past. “Wes convinced me to keep it. The baby. We were going to get out of there, to build a new life.” My eyes stung as tears welled and my nostrils flared.
“A month before I was due, there was a fight over something stupid.” I shook my head, laughing bitterly. “I can’t even remember what anymore.” I swallowed the renewed swell of grief. “The others . . . They killed Wes and threw me out on my ass.” Another bitter laugh shook my chest. He was barely eighteen and just starting to turn his life around. Such a fucking waste.
“Like, literally threw me out the door at eight months pregnant,” I explained. “The fall did something to the placenta and sent me into premature labor, and I stumbled down the sidewalk until some kind stranger noticed the blood soaking my jeans and called 911.”
I blinked, sending tears cascading down my cheeks. “There were complications in labor, thus the c-section scar, but the baby was fine.” I smiled shakily. “A boy.” My chin trembled.
That had been a relief because a male child would be human, whereas a female would have been a living vampire. Only female vampires could be born, while any human could be transformed by a vampire queen into an undead vampire.
“A social worker explained my options to me, how I could keep him, but I was seventeen and all alone . . .” Not to mention being hunted by shifter assassins.
Unbidden, memories of his tiny face, his perfect little fingers and toes, and his first cries flooded my mind. I had only held him once, in those fleeting hours right after birth, before the social worker took him away, but I could still feel the weight of him against my chest, the softness of his skin against mine. The decision to give him up had been the hardest of my life, but I knew it had been the right one. With the House of the Sun hunting me, and Javier gone, I had no way to keep him safe. No way to give him the life he deserved. But that didn’t stop the ache in my heart, the constant longing to be a part of his world. To watch him grow, to hear his laughter, to see the man he would become. Blinking back tears, I pushed the thoughts aside and forced myself to return to the present. To Bastian.
“I wanted my baby to have a good life, a safe life,” I explained, “and I didn’t see how I could give that to him. So, the social worker helped me with the paperwork, and they took him away while I was left to recover in my hospital room.” Not the whole truth, but enough for Bastian to understand why I had reacted the way I had earlier.
I took a deep breath, finally refocusing on Bastian. “And I was too terrified of going through that again to ever, well, be with anyone . . . until now.”
“Fuck, Sophie,” Bastian said, leaning forward. He reached across the table, pulling my hands away from the paper coffee cup and grasping them tightly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” His eyes searched mine. “And I am deeply honored that you chose me to be with after so long.”
I averted my gaze to our joined hands. I didn’t feel like I had chosen. I had needed . Bastian had felt too right. Like we were meant to be together. Like, somehow, the messy path of my life had led me to him for a reason. Not that I would ever share that notion with him.
“I’ve never told anyone about Wes and . . . all of that,” I said, little more than a whisper. I felt like some of the suffocating weight had been lifted off my chest. “Thanks for listening, Bas.”
He squeezed my hands. “Any time.”