She stepped even closer, her voice firm now.
“Stormi left because she needed to. You were my responsibility and you still are. And whether I raised you or not, I swear to God, you will not talk to me, to your sister, or to any woman like that again.”
She reached for my hands, but I pulled away before she could touch me.
“Man, fuck all of y’all,” I spat, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I was holding. “I don’t need this shit.”
And with that, I stormed out. Heart pounding, throat tight, guilt clawing at my insides like wildfire. I found the nearest bathroom and locked the door behind me. Dropped to the floor. Back against the door. Chest caving in and out as the tears came hard and fast with no warning. I buried my face in my hands.
“Thank you, God,” I choked out, my voice barely there. “Thank you for saving my sister.”
Chapter
Four
SETH
Stormi’s voice cut through the war in my head like a blade. I was at the window, watching the city breathe same city I was ready to burn to the fucking ground. They thought they could touch what’s mine. They thought they could come close, but they failed. My wife was alive, my son was here, and as long as they were still breathing, I still had something to lose which meant the world had something to fear.
I turned around fast. “I’m right here, baby,” I said and I was by her side in two steps.
She looked at me, eyes groggy but sharp. “I have to pee.”
I grabbed the pink bedpan off the tray without hesitation. “You want to try the pan?”
“No,” she snapped. “I want to get out this damn bed and actually use the bathroom.”
That fire in her voice didn’t offend me. It reassured me. Stormi was still Stormi: independent, headstrong, stubborn as hell. And I loved that shit. I loved her.
“Alright, alright,” I said, setting the pan aside. “We’ll do it your way.”
She threw me that don’t question me look, and I almost smiled. Even weak, even stitched up and drugged up, she still had more fight than half the city.
I moved slow, easing her legs off the bed. “On three,” I said, like we practiced. “One... two... three.”
She rose with a soft groan, her arm locking around my neck, my hand firm on her waist. Her body trembled against mine. She hated being weak. Hated needing help. But that’s where I came in. I wasn’t just her husband I was her fortress.
“Take your time, mama,” I whispered in her ear, pacing our steps. I never let her fall. Not now and not ever.
We reached the bathroom. I helped her turn, guiding her gently down. Soon as her ass hit the seat, she started laughing. A deep, almost hysterical laugh.
I knelt in front of her, eyes narrowing. “Stormi...?”
The laugh cracked in half. And then came the tears. Big, ugly, chest-wracking sobs that broke me faster than bullets ever could.
“We didn’t plan for this,” she choked out.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. She was right, I had plans. I knew what we were doing for our anniversary, for her next birthday. I had picked out the damn preschool for Shiloh and knew which college S3 would play ball at.
But I didn’t see this coming. The pain, the blood, the near-death experience. I didn’t plan for almost losing her. I grabbed herface, wiped her tears, and made her look at me. My voice came out rougher than I meant. “Tell me you with me till the end.”
Her eyes… damn, her eyes. They held all the pain in the world. “For better or worse,” she whispered.
I almost lost it. I pressed my lips to hers. She was fragile but fierce. Worn but undefeated. Still mine.
“I need to take a shower,” she said against my mouth, and I nodded.
“I got you.”
