Chapter Eight
DEE
Colt helps me downstairs. And by helps, I mean he carries me after a blissful sleep, cuddled up to the man I’m in love with.
I should be happy. I’m alive. I’m home, but depression is rearing its ugly head again, and I think Colt is noticing.
“You’re quiet this morning. You okay?” Colt asks, looking me in the eyes as he carries me toward the kitchen.
I smile, trying to reassure him while holding my crutches tightly. “I’m okay, just a little tired, is all,” I lie, leaning my head against his shoulder as we enter the kitchen.
Colt gives me that look as if he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go.
Mum and Dad are preparing breakfast. Mum pulled me aside for a quiet chat, asking if I could start calling her ‘Mum.’ She said it might make things easier for my father, especially now that I’m calling him ‘Dad.’ I agreed with her because it made sense, even if it does feel a little strange on my tongue.
“Morning, sweethearts. How did you both sleep?” Mum asks as she flips an egg in the frying pan.
“Good, thanks, Mum. How was the guest room?” Colt asks when he places me carefully on the tiled floor, and I position my crutches under my arms to steady myself.
“Great. Now have a seat. Breakfast will be ready shortly,” Mum replies as Dad stands in the kitchen reading the Independent newspaper.
I hobble over to the dining table and take a seat while Colt brings me a glass of juice.
Inadvertently, I place my hand over my stomach, and an image flashes into my head—a flashing ‘vacancy’ sign.
Frowning, I rest my elbows on the table and place my head in my hands. Colt is quickly by my side, and his hand slowly caresses my back as I feel his lips against my cheek.
I turn to Colt, who is assessing me quietly.
“You okay?” he whispers so my parents don’t hear.
I nod as Colt rubs the back of his neck, looking at me sympathetically. “Baby, talk to me,” he encourages, still whispering, not to gain my parents’ attention.
Exhaling, I lean into his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly. I’m home. Shouldn’t I be happy?
“Dee…”
“Breakfast is ready,” Mum calls out, saving me from a Colt interrogation.
I sit up and avoid looking at him as Mum walks over with two giant plates of food. The weight of Colt’s concerned gaze presses against me when I take the sauce, before pouring it onto a plate.
Focusing on eating, I avoid Colt’s gaze the entire time, and eventually, Mum and Dad join us at the table.
They strike up a conversation with Colt about how he will look after me when they leave this afternoon.
I listen but don’t join in, because all I can think about right now is how I’d rather be anywhere but here.
This is the home we purchased to raise our family in.
What’s the point of living here with all these rooms for children if that’s not going to happen?
Colt’s hand slides under the table, and he takes hold of my knee, which I hadn’t realized was agitating. His touch soothes my raging thoughts, and I finally get the courage to look at him. He’s facing forward, talking to Mum, but he’s looking at me out of the corner of his eyes.
Swallowing the lump in my throat that’s threatening to choke me, I push the half-eaten plate of food away.
I can’t stomach any more. My insides are churning, and all I want to do is get out of this house.
I try to shake off the anxiety flowing through my veins, but my breathing becomes more rushed.
The imagery of the walls closing in on me causes me to panic.
The chair screeches against the tiled floor when I stand abruptly, putting all my weight on my left leg.
Everyone stops talking and looks as I rush to get my crutches.
“What’s wrong?” Colt asks as he slowly stands and reaches out to touch my shoulder.
Goddammit! I have to get out of here.
I shrug him off as I fumble frantically with my crutches and hobble toward the back porch.
“Dee, we’re eating breakfast,” Dad berates, but I ignore him and continue rushing toward the door. Fumbling with the lock, I slide the door open and try to get outside.
I need air.
I can’t breathe.
It’s stifling.
“I’ll get her,” Colt says as I rush through the awkward doorway and outside onto the back porch.
I race as fast as I can across the porch to the stairs. I haven’t managed stairs on my own with my crutches, but I’m sure as hell going to try now. I get to the small set of stairs, put all my weight on my left leg, move the crutches down one step, and go to swing myself down.
“Dee, wait,” Colt calls out, but I don’t stop.
I need to be away from this house.
Shifting my weight, my right crutch slips, and before I can stop it, I’m falling. My breath catches in my throat, bracing for the sharp sting of impact—
But strong arms wrap around me, catching me just in time.
Colt.
We tumble together, and he twists his body, shielding me as we hit the grass. I land on top of him, cushioned by his chest, his arms locked tight around me like a safety net I didn’t know I still had. The moment we stop moving, the tears come—hard and fast.
I was stupid to think I could manage the stairs on my own.
Reckless. If Colt hadn’t caught me, I could have undone everything, set my recovery back weeks, broken something else.
But I had to get out. I couldn’t stay inside that house one second longer—not with that goddamn vacancy sign flashing, not with my family inside laughing and planning a future I’ll never get to live.
“What were you thinking?” Colt demands, urgency laced in his voice as he lifts us to a seated position in the grass. “Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?” His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing away tears that keep falling anyway.
I can’t speak.
I look into his eyes—those eyes that always see straight through me—and cry.
“I can’t be in there,” I finally choke out, my voice barely a whisper.
He glances over his shoulder toward the house, brows drawing together. “What? Why?” he asks, shifting me into his lap, holding me like I might break apart if he lets go.
“Because…” My breath hitches, heart racing so fast I can’t breathe right. “Because it’s a house that should be full of children, Colt. And I can’t…”
The rest won’t come.
I can’t get the words out around the sobs wracking my chest.
Colt doesn’t say anything. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in tighter, pressing me to his heart like he’s trying to slow mine down with his own.
I curl into him, the pain too big, too raw, and I rock back and forth in his hold, salt burning my eyes, his shirt soaking up every shattered breath.
“Dee…” Colt’s voice is soft, breaking through my sobs like sunlight through storm clouds. “I thought you were feeling better about the whole baby thing?” He kisses the top of my head as if that alone could glue me back together.
But I’m splintering.
I shake my head and grip his shirt in my fists, crumpling the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered.
The world tilts under me. My insides twist. It feels like the earth is opening up beneath me, ready to swallow me whole, and maybe I want it to.
Because at least then I wouldn’t have to feel this undeniable agony.
“I’m sorry,” Colt murmurs, arms tightening around me.
“I thought being home would help. I didn’t realize it would make you feel like this.
” He presses another kiss to my temple, rocking me gently.
“Where do you wanna go, baby? Anywhere. Just say the word. I’ll take you.
I’ll carry you if I have to. Just tell me how to help. ”
God, he’s so good.
I don’t deserve him.
He’s too good for me.
He’d burn the world down to ease my pain. But this isn’t a pain he can fix.
This is our home.
Our dream.
And now it’s a constant reminder of everything I’ll never give him.
I shake my head again, burying myself deeper into his chest. He seems to get it that I don’t want to go anywhere, but I also don’t want to feel like this anymore.
He exhales slowly, then gently lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I must look like hell. My eyes are puffy, my nose is running, and I’m hiccuping through every damn breath. But his eyes don’t waver.
He sees me.
All of me.
And he still looks at me like I’m the most important thing in his world.
“Dee,” he says, his thumbs brushing my soaked cheeks.
“I know this hurts. I didn’t think coming home would hit you this hard, and I hate that I didn’t see it coming.
If you want to move, we can. I’ll put the manor up for sale today, no questions asked.
I’ll do anything to make this easier for you.
I want you to feel like you can breathe a-again.
” His voice cracks. “And I’m sorry,” he adds, his jaw flexing as he looks up, blinking back the emotion.
“I’m sorry I let go of your hand. I promised I wouldn’t, and I did.
I let go when you needed me to hold on the most.” The guilt in his eyes slices through me like glass.
I lift my hand, brushing my fingers along his cheek, and he finally looks back down at me. My sobs slow to shaky exhales, but we’re both treading water in grief we don’t know how to survive.
His pain mirrors mine.
His love cradles it.
“I love you, Dee,” he whispers. “Nothing will ever change that.”
A tear slides down my cheek as I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
He tenses. “What for?”
“For being this crazy person,” I say with a weak, broken laugh.
“I panicked. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, like I couldn’t breathe in there.
I needed to get out. I don’t want to sell.
I love our home. I just… I need to toughen up.
” My grip tightens on his shirt again. “If I keep running, I’ll never face this.
I know that. But I also don’t know how to stay and not fall apart. ”