Triggered #2
She shudders as she leans in, but holds herself together. I feel her breathe a heavy sigh as she relaxes into me.
“I didn’t even think of that when I invited you to see the cow give birth,” I say, stroking her hair. “I thought it would be something cool, but I never even considered how that might make you feel, even knowing you lost your child. Were you far along?”
She nods. “About seven months,” she says, and my breath stills.
I remember Sasha at that point in her pregnancy.
That was around the time we showed up at Bob and Bec’s front door.
Sasha was wearing my clothes because she couldn’t fit into her own.
Bec had taken her shopping that first week we arrived, getting her proper maternity clothes.
She’d also set up prenatal appointments, and we’d found out we were having a girl. Lottie was born six weeks later.
Jordy’s baby didn’t survive.
“Are you okay?”
She nods. “I’m fine.”
I look down at her, and she gives me a weak smile.
“I am,” she insists. “I mean, I’m raw right now. Most days, I don’t even think about it. It’s been so long since it happened, enough time that I can go about my daily life without even thinking about…” She hesitates, takes a deep breath, “about her.”
She says this, but I see it differently—especially now that her trauma is becoming clearer.
“Honey, you avoided my daughter like she was some scary creature when you first arrived here.”
“I’m not a kids person,” she says weakly. I raise an eyebrow at her. “What? I’m not!”
“Right. Which is why you’ve been so fantastic with her once you gave her a chance.”
“Okay, fine,” she says, bumping me with her shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“You’re stalking your cousin’s Instagram immediately after having a panic attack over seeing a cow give birth.”
At this, she pulls her knees into her chest, making herself a tight ball against me. I squeeze her shoulders, then kiss the top of her head.
“I thought the calf was dead,” she whispers, then wipes her eyes against my shirt.
“I know, sweetheart.”
She’s quiet for a moment. I listen to her breathe, inhaling the scent of her freshly washed hair, feeling the warmth of her skin as my heart breaks for everything she’s feeling.
She looks up at me then, her eyes glassy. “You know the worst part about losing a baby like I did?”
“All of it, I’m sure.” I kiss her temple, waiting for her to continue.
“Well yeah, all of it. The loss. Everything. But I guess what makes it all feel worse is that you can’t talk about it.
I’m like the plague. When people think about babies, they think happy things, like sweet smells and soft skin and tiny little feet and hands.
Babies are innocent and precious and vulnerable.
Then there’s me, the mom of a dead baby, and I feel like a bull in a China shop.
If I so much as mention the fact that my daughter died, it’s like I’m ruining it for everyone.
” She laughs, but the sound is full of ire.
“You should have seen me at Nina’s baby shower.
There was pink everywhere, and all these precious little cupcakes and gifts.
Everyone was fawning all over her, guessing who the baby would look like more, and I felt like this giant toad in the middle of all this sweet baby stuff. ”
“That must have been terrible,” I say, stroking her shoulder.
“The worst,” she agrees. “But I had to go, you know? First, my mom insisted. But second, if I didn’t go, everyone would think I was just bitter about Brayden having a baby with another woman.”
“What’s wrong with that? He left you for her, and he did have a baby with her. Any person in the world would be bitter over that.”
“But not me,” she says, then gives another harsh laugh.
“It’s not that I want Brayden. I don’t. The honest truth is, once the dust of my broken engagement settled, I felt relieved.
I just wasn’t prepared to care this much when Nina got pregnant.
I was fine when I found out, but once she started to show… ” Jordy trails off.
“You were triggered.”
Jordy nods. “I didn’t even want kids. When I found out I was pregnant, I was pissed.
Brayden and I barely knew each other, but he proposed anyway.
We were a terrible match, and I felt caged into a relationship with someone I didn’t love.
I spent most of that pregnancy trying to pretend I was excited.
But really, I was scared shitless. I had plans for my life that didn’t include being tied down or having a baby.
When I lost her, I was so devastated, but there was also a small part of me that felt relieved.
” She looks at me. “You probably think I’m a terrible person for even saying that. ”
“I don’t,” I say. “It’s not like Lottie was a planned baby. We were young and poor, working on a pot farm. My family isn’t exactly roses, as you know. I haven’t even talked to my mom in years. When Sasha got pregnant, I was sure I was going to mess this kid up.”
“But did you ever…” She pauses, wincing.
“Hope that maybe the pregnancy would end? I had moments, especially in the beginning when it was all new. I don’t think that makes you a bad person, though. I think it makes you human.”
She wraps her arms around me, shifting closer. I tighten my hold on her as she breathes.
“My life would look so different now if she’d survived,” she murmured.
Then she looks at me. “I’m not sure it would have been a good thing.
I never wanted to be a mom. I mean, I can’t anymore.
When I lost Violet, I had to have a hysterectomy.
So the choice was taken from me, but it’s whatever, you know?
” She heaves a heavy sigh. “Even if I didn’t want a baby, I wish she hadn’t died.
Like, maybe she could have been born to a different mother or something.
I guess I wish we’d been more careful and never gotten pregnant in the first place.
” She rolls her eyes. “But, it’s like that saying—what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. ”
“Well, I don’t think we have to wade through shit to become strong people, Jordy.” I kiss her forehead. “I think you were already strong and had a shitty thing happen to you.”
I look down at her then, and she doesn’t break eye contact.
She inches a little closer, and I lean down, pressing my lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss.
Her lips part slightly, and the tip of my tongue touches hers.
She tastes like an invitation, like the sweetest meal I’ve ever had.
I pull her on top of me, my hands finding her hair in that damn braid, still slightly damp from her shower.
I make quick work of it, pulling off the rubber band and tangling my hands into the waves of her hair.
She grinds against my already hard cock, which is straining against my jeans to reach the furthest depths of her.
But I can’t. My body wants her so bad, wants to fix everything by fucking it out of her. It’s like this carnal need, to feel her skin against mine and protect her with every part of me.
I feel so fucking selfish. I can’t focus on my needs when she’s so much more important.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I whisper against her mouth. She kisses me quiet, pausing just long enough to pull my shirt over my head.
“I want to,” she says in between kisses, her hands pawing at my back. I break away, even though it nearly kills me.
“Seriously. I can hold you. We can just kiss. I have no expectations.”
“Ashton.”
I stop kissing her, pulling away as she looks down at me. Her hair hangs in waves around her face, the lights from the room casting this glow about her. She’s so damn beautiful, it takes my breath away.
“I want this.” She places a hand at my cheek. “I want you. I need to feel you against me. Everywhere. Inside of me.”
I search her face, looking for the cracks, looking for anything that will make me believe she’s doing this for me.
All I see is the same fire I feel mirrored in her eyes.
“Are you sure?”
She answers by lowering her mouth to mine again. Her tongue moves against mine, her mouth seeking something deeper. More.
I want—need—more.
I stand, her legs wrapped around me, our mouths hungrily seeking as I walk toward the bedroom. Her body feels like the missing part of me, like a completion of sorts. I cannot believe I existed this long without her.
We land on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs. My hands thread into her hair as I consume her. She consumes me. She tears at my clothes, and I pause long enough to strip my shirt off, to help her with hers, to…
Fuck, her body is so perfect. So tight. So ready for me. I take in her olive skin, the way every part of her seems molded for my hands. I want to taste the salt of her skin, find out how her tight nipples feel between my teeth, cup the firm slope of her ass while driving into her.
I want to heal her and wreck her, all at once.
“I don’t think I have it in me to be gentle,” I growl, pulling at her underwear as she fumbles with my button.
“I don’t want you to be gentle.” She unzips my pants, pulling them down my hips. I land on her with the motion, both of us laughing at the absurdity, our mouths finding each other again. She’s right there, and I still can’t get close enough.
I pause long enough to retrieve a condom from my dresser drawer. Thank god I thought to get some. When was the last time I needed one? Far too fucking long. But for her, I’d wait forever.
I pull my pants completely off, standing before her as her eyes take me in. She looks at me like I’m a meal, her gaze raking over me while her tongue flicks across her bottom lip.
And her. She’s a goddamn vision. Her hair is wild from my hands. Her skin already reddening from the places my mouth has been. Her lips swollen and parted. Her breath coming out in rushes of air.
“You can stop me at any time,” I say, ripping the condom open. “Even now. Tell me to stop, and it stops.”