Diving toward her, I grab her around the waist to pull her back to me. She is coughing and her face is beet red, her eyes focused on the path in front of her. The need to feel her with my own hands and check for wounds drives me even though Ican see she is in shock autopilot.
Blood is all over her sweater, jeans and hands, and I don’t think she sees me through the panic that has her eyes blown wide because she starts to scramble harder to get to the bathroom. Her body is tense, and her bloody fingers are slipping on the hardwood as she desperately tries to move away.
As I pull her to me, she squeaks and starts fighting to get out of my grip, “Hey, hey, Sloane, darlin’, it’s me.” I softly croon in her ear and squat behind her to hold her between my legs until she stops moving and her breathing calms down.
Glancing over her shoulder, she sees me and whispers, “Mason?” Recognition moves across her eyes and her whole body relaxes as she turns and grabs me, her arms form a death grip around my shoulders, and I hold her tight as the sobs start to rack her body.
“Sshh, it’s okay, I got ya.” I kiss the bend between her neck and shoulder, my grip on her is nearly as tight as hers on me. What would I have done if I’d lost her?
Giving her a moment to feel safe, I move my mouth close to her ear and keep my voice low and calm, “Darlin’, I need to see that you’re okay. Is any of this blood yours?”
She doesn’t let go, but shakes her head, “It’s his, he was choking me, he was going to kill us, I had to do it. I had to!” Her voice gets higher with each word and the sobs get stronger.
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” I keep my arm around her waist and pull her up with me to standing. “It was you or him, darlin’.” Her hair is loose and I stroke her head while pulling her hair into my hand to let it slide through my palm down her back.
She keeps her cheek pressed to my neck as the sobs start to lessen, “Is he dead? Did I kill him?”
I look at Gray who is squatting next to Austin, my gun byhis feet, and he shakes his head once and then he looks at Dad behind me, “You want to call the police, or should I?”
“I’ll do it.” Dad growls and I hear his boots retreating on the floor to the hallway.
Glancing at the piece of shit bleeding on my floor, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about him anymore. I cup the back of Sloane’s head and tilt my mouth to her ear, “Darlin’, we need to get out of this room, close your eyes if you don’t want to see.”
She nods her head and keeps her nose buried in my neck. Her whole body is shaking like a leaf, and she is barely standing on her own, so I bend down and hook my arm behind her knees to pick her up.
Setting her on the counter in the kitchen, she finally lets go of my shoulders and I’m able to cup her face between my hands. There are busted blood vessels in her eyes and the red skin burns around her neck are already starting to bruise.
I’m grounding my molars together and keep my poker face in place as I look at the red finger marks around her neck. “Did you lose consciousness at any time?” I ask as I move the hair off her neck on the other side, keeping my voice as soft as I possibly can through the rage that is squeezing all the muscles in my back and arms.
Her eyes are fixed on mine. She shakes her head once before she swallows and winces. “My throat burns,” she says, almost in a whisper. Her fingers loop lightly around my wrists, “I had to do it, he didn’t give me a choice.”
I think back to the first person I ever killed in Afghanistan and I remember the feeling of floating through the days in disbelief and guilt while I tried to convince myself that it was something that I had to do. I slide my thumbs across her cheeks and wipe the tears away, “That’s right, he didn’t give you a choice.” I give her a soft kiss, “Had you not killed him, he would have killed you and our baby. You did the right thing.”
Her spine straightens a little, and she takes a deep breath, “It wasn’t just for me, I had to protect our baby.”
I give her a small, reassuring smile, “You’re going to be a great mother.”
A small sob escapes her throat, and more tears follow before she nods. I step up to the counter she is sitting on and wrap my arms around her, squeezing her to me, it’s the only way I can calm my own anger. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she is safe and happy.
EPILOGUE
SLOANE
NOmatter what position I turn to, I can’t get comfortable. My belly looks like a watermelon and feels just as heavy. Even the body pillow Mason bought me isn’t helping tonight.
It’s hot, and the ceiling fan is not helping. The middle of August in Oklahoma is brutal for a normal person, but it’s like the seventh circle of hell for a pregnant lady in her ninth month. I’ve sweated in places that I never thought I would sweat with this enormous belly, and my boobs are huge.
Mason is loving the boobs.
Mr. Harlow told Mason to get me a tower fan for the bedroom because I was turning the air conditioner so low that I was freezing everyone out. But that’s not helping either.
I push all my blankets to the foot of the bed so my skin can enjoy the breeze from the fan, and my spaghetti strap cotton nightshirt can breathe. Even the thin material of the nightshirt feels heavy.
I miss him.
It’s only been five days. He told me it could be about a week, if not a few days longer, before his team would complete this job their on, but this is the longest I’ve been away from him. I know I’m just being pouty, but he always rubs my backto help me sleep. I look at my phone to see what time it is, a little after one in the morning, and I wonder where he is and if he is thinking of me.
Wiping a stray tear, I pull my body pillow next to me to rest my belly on and pull my leg up on it so I can close my eyes and pretend it’s him.
