Then he pivots, leaving me with another gaping hole in my heart and an option to take something else away from him.
It’s not fair.
But it is.
Torin and Reeve have a right to want this child. I just believe they underestimate my ability to pull it off.
THIRTY-FIVE
ozzy
Bay nibbleson the sandwich I made her, watching some crime show I randomly put on that was listed on hercurrently watching.
Cairo has been mindful of her weight and mental health without hovering or pushing knowing she’ll only shove back. He’s enlisted me to help, telling me to feed her whenever I can and ensure she’s as stress free as humanly possible but subtly.
However, I know she’s suffering inside from the loss of Wallace and her father. Sometimes, Bay isn’t even looking at the TV but at the wall, spilling out all her sorrows without crying but by getting lost inside her head instead.
Something we’re able to relate to on so many levels.
She hasn’t spoken to me since she told me she’s pregnant. I’m not entirely sure what it means for everyone, but I do know she can’t be running around South Shore like she has. I understand with her new position as Queen of South Shore, she’ll have to do things. But it won’t include hunting for De Leon and acting like she’s immortal.
It can’t happen.
Not when she has a baby inside her and two sisters who barely leave their rooms anymore because everything has changed.
This house is becoming more depressing by the day.
I watch her without reservation, studying her every move to determine how she’s feeling and taking in the fact she’s pregnant.
Reeve and Torin are a bunch of caveman assholes about it.
I’m not sure why they’d want someone else to care for when we already have enough on our plates, but they’re extremely adamant about her carrying through with the pregnancy.
Probably to have another complicated tie in her life and to fully immerse themselves there forever.
Torin already tried coming to the house to see her, but I threatened him with another bullet hole. Reeve has been on another bender, and he and Cairo got into it last night, resulting in a few holes in the wall and some broken bookshelves.
All three of them aren’t allowed entry here. I’ve made that shit perfectly clear. The last thing Bay needs right now is Torin’s stupid-ass alpha bullshit, Reeve’s obvious hurt and depression, or Cairo’s black eye given by said brother.
Shit went to hell in a handbasket really quick, and I could actually use Wallace to help out right about now. He knew how to get straight to her without having to try very hard. She listened to him. Maybe notallthe way, but it didn’t fall on deaf ears.
Maybe that’s why Torin has such a hard time.
“Oz.”
I blink, regaining Bay in my vision as she sits on the couch with her knees to her chest. Her blue eyes are glazed with what looks like tears, and I’m the wrong person for this job.
I can keep danger away.
I just can’t do emotions.
“Can you hand me that blanket?” She points to the La-Z-Boy that used to be her father’s, and it’s the same blanket that was on it when I had all her things moved here. I’m guessing it’s Roger’s.
Ambling toward the chair, I pluck it up and stride over, keeping a safe distance and handing it over.
“Thanks,” she mutters, dropping it in her lap and draping it over her body as she brings some of the gray material to her face and inhales it, closing her eyes while she does.
And she doesn’t open them.
