“Tell me.”
“When I ran out, I didn’t grab my shoes or my bag. I-I didn’t have time to stop for even a second, terrified of what he’d do to me. Us.” She clutches a hand over her flat stomach as if the memories are back to life. “But when I was found on the scene, my shoes and my bag were lying next to me.”
“Was it him who called 911?”
“No. It was not. And well…you know the rest. The hospital and all that.”
Yes…yes, I do.
“Did you see him that night?”
“I’m not sure what I saw but he had to be there at one point or another.” She stares off into the night, and I mutter a curse inside my head as the hole I’m in keeps growing.
“Did the police investigate?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I ask, my voice even sounding genuine.
“It was ruled an accident. The person in the other car died, and no matter how much Stella pressed for details, there were none.”
The words beg to be let out. The small box of secrets rattling inside my heart but I won’t let it. I won’t allow it to destroy us when I just got her back.
“Aurora…” Her name is barely a scratch over the dryness of my throat as I turn us around until she’s fully wrapped in my arms and I press my lips to hers. “I’ll find him and I’ll kill him.”
“It’s okay, it’s been a long time since. I’ve moved on.”
“Well, I haven’t.” Not for a while now.
She laughs softly, burrowing deeper into me.
“You don’t have to keep killing people for me, Sava. That doesn’t sound like a healthy functioning relationship.”
“Since when did you think we’re in one of those? And this time I’m not killing just for you. It’s for my little man.”
Her lips press against my tight jaw in a soft kiss. “Just keep loving him the way you do. That will be enough.”
It’s not. Not even close but she doesn’t need to be burdened with my darkness any more than she already had been.
“Tell me he’s mine,” I demand when I have no right. Aurora lifts her head and those green eyes watch me for a moment as she bites her lower lip.
“I don’t think I have a say in it. You have to ask Emett.”
“That’s fair.” I nod.
We lie in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the ghosts of our pasts swirling in the air around.
“You are the strongest person I know,” I tell her.
“Mmm,” she murmurs, sleep slowly stealing her from me.
I bring the back of my hand over her porcelain skin and gently run it across the spot where she got a scar five years ago.
“You really are a fighter, Lychik.”
23
Real Dad
