“You didn’t kill them,” he repeated. “You miscarried. That’s not your fault.”
“But there was no medical explanation,” I argued. “There was no reason for it to happen, again and again and again.”
“No reason? Shiloh you were under extreme, I mean,insaneamounts of stress. You were beingabused. You were suppressing a lifetime of trauma.”
“That’s not—”
“You wanted your unborn child to be safe,” Enoch said firmly, holding my stare. “Right?” I nodded. “So, it’s no wonder you were relieved because you knew they wouldn’t be safe if they survived the pregnancy. That doesn’t make you a killer, Shiloh. It makes you a mother. A protective, fierce mother. Who would have done everything in her power to protect her children should they have been born.”
“But what if it was some punishment from God? I didn’t repent for my sins. I didn’t purge the devil. I didn’t—”
“Shhh. Baby. Stop.” His hands were back on me. Holding my face. Like I didn’t disgust him. Like he still loved me. “You didn’t kill them. God isn’t cruel.”
“So, it was the devil then. I wasn’t clean.”
“Baby, what are you talking about?”
“I…” I shook my head. Mind still spinning. “Nothing.”
“Shy,” he sighed heavily, his forehead pressing against mine as he closed his eyes. “I don’t know what that prick told you, but the only one like the devil is him. For what he did to you. For whatever he said to make you believe that you were at fault. Bad shit happens. And I hate that so much of it has happened to you, baby.I hate it. I hate it so much, but bad shit happening to you doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes this a world with bad things in it. I wish I had a reason. I wish I had a reason to give you for why you’ve had to suffer but I don’t. It’s the nature ofthis world. There is pain, suffering, heartbreak…but there’s also beauty, good, love. You just have to have the hope to see it.”
I released a shaky breath, using my free hand to clutch Enoch’s wrist and I let what he said sink into my bones, shake the unsteady mantel on which all of my self-hatred rested.
“I see you,” I whispered. “Your love.”
Enoch sighed, his fingers weaving into the hair at the base of my skull as he pulled me impossibly closer.
“I can’t stop the bad days from coming, but I can promise you that I’ll be with you through all of them. I promise to be your one good thing. Always. Forever.”
His lips met mine with a soft kiss, his thumb stroking my cheek. He pulled back and I opened my eyes to find him holding out his cupped hands.
My brow rose in confusion and I looked at him with a silent question.
“Give it to me.”
I glanced down at my water bottle. He shook his head.
“Give me all that hate.”
He smiled sadly at my blank expression and dropped his hands to his sides.
“I’m not going to tell you not to hate those fuckers who did this to you, because I sure as shit can’t do that myself. But don’t hate yourself, baby. You’ve been through every kind of hell and fought your way out.” His hand rose to my face, fingers caressing my temples. “I love this mind. These eyes. Fuck knows I’ll never be able to stop staring at their beauty. This mouth. Every freckle.” His hand trailed down ‘til it landed across my chest. “This heart. Every scar. Don’t hate this body that fought and won. Love it. And everything about it.”
My heart thundered in my chest. I fought the sting of tears, the lump in my throat, the sob building in my chest.
“I love you. All of you. Always,” he whispered.
I flung my arms around Enoch’s shoulders, letting him lift me from the ground so my legs circled his waist. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent mixed with the sunscreen and forest-scented bug repellent.
His arms banded around me, grounding me, keeping me locked in this moment where everything felt right, good, safe.
Home.
Enoch felt like home.
Thirty
July 26, Sunday
