31. nix #3
She softens against me, almost melting into me.
Her arms wrap around my waist, tightening until there’s no space between us.
Our lips are a breath apart, and it would be so easy to get lost in a kiss, but Harry’s words echo in my mind.
Pressing my lips to her forehead, I sit my ass on the edge of the bed, pulling Abbi onto my lap at the same time.
“We should talk about my night terrors.” I’m not sure I’m ready to flay myself open, but for Abbi, I will. Perhaps if she understands, she’ll be more accepting of us sleeping separately until I’m certain she’ll be safe with me.
Her eyes delve into mine, seeking my truth. Questions blaze: Why now? What happened to you? Am I ready to know this? Will sharing this hurt you? “You don’t have to share this if you don’t want to,” she mumbles. “Unless you’re ready.”
I dip my chin, and a puff of air ghosts over my lips. “It may help.” I don’t tell her that Harry said it might help. If she thinks I’m only sharing because Harry told me to, it won’t carry the same weight, and she’ll think I’m only doing it because I was told to, and that’s just not the case.
She nods. “Okay.” Readjusting her position on my lap, she wraps her arms around me, giving me the support only she can.
I lock my gaze on hers, using it as a tether to reality as I relive that awful fucking day.
I’ve never talked about the explosion with her.
She knows it happened, and that Shane was injured and Wyatt was killed, but I haven’t talked in detail or shared my feeling surrounding it.
To be honest, I don’t think I’ve really allowed myself to rehash the events in too much detail.
I’ve always glossed over what happened because it’s too fucking painful.
I tell her everything I remember from that day.
My skin crawls and my stomach twists with every detail I share.
Abbi listens intently, but I feel the tension building in her body as I tell my story, so I stroke my hand up and down her back, feeling every bump of her vertebrae, hoping to offer her a modicum of comfort.
As each word falls from my mouth, a weight begins to lift from my shoulders.
I never wanted to put this experience on Abbi, but unburdening myself in this way uncoils tension from my body I hadn’t realized was there.
Her eyes glisten as I share my feelings of helplessness that day and when I tell her how I dreamed of balancing the scales by hunting down the person responsible for Wyatt’s death and Shane’s injuries, her tears become too heavy to contain, falling over her dark lashes to trail down her cheeks.
“So that’s who you’re attacking in your dreams?” she confirms what she’s already figured out because she’s smart and intuitive.
I nod slowly. “Yeah,” I breathe. I should feel ashamed to admit my need for retribution, but I don’t.
If I had the chance to dole out punishment to those involved in the attack, I would in a heartbeat.
It goes against the laws of engagement, the very basis of our training.
But the attack felt fucking personal when we were there to ensure the safety of the community and they turned on us, murdering one of my men and injuring others.
“And the other night?” She traces her compassionate brown eyes over my face. “You said something about trying to take our son.”
My shoulders lift and drop with a heavy breath. “I guess it morphed. I don’t understand how my mind works, but Harry wasn’t surprised that I had a night terror when I haven’t had one for a while.”
Abbi brings her hand up to cradle my cheek, and I press into her comfort. Her warmth. Her compassion. She undoes me. “It would be understandable that what happened to Murphy would bring all the pain from the past back to the surface.”
“I guess. It still took me by surprise, and not in a good way.” I look deep into my wife’s eyes, getting stuck on the burst blood vessel.
She’s my other half. My soul mate. Of that I have no doubt.
“I hate that my fucked-up mind impacts you.” My eyes drop to her neck, and I swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat.
I’ve done my best to avoid looking at the bruises I caused because it guts me every time, but I have to face what I’ve done.
How my lack of dealing with my trauma impacts my wife.
I carefully trace over the worst one with a featherlight touch, studying the mottled purple skin.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes as if a million needles are poking through my eyeballs.
“It kills me to see these marks on you because I couldn’t get my shit together and ask for help. ”
She shakes her head and her throat moves as she swallows. I snap my eyes to her face, but she covers any pain she may be feeling. “You’re doing the work now. That’s what matters most.”
“It’s too late,” I grumble, peering into her warm eyes. “The bruises around your throat are nothing compared to the bruises I caused on your heart. I’ll never forgive myself or stop trying to be a better man for you.”
She leans in, touching her lips to mine. “I forgive you.”
Her words reach inside my chest and wrap around my heart, bathing it in warmth. “I don’t deserve it.”
“You do, Nix.”
One side of my mouth ticks up a little. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Abs.”