KIRA
Upstairs, I take a while in the bathroom, wishing I could scrub Preston’s image from my mind as easily as I brush my teeth.
Of course, I put nothing past him, this man who claimed to love me but now wants me dead, but it still hurts to have him paint me as mentally unstable. To care nothing about the baby, while acting as if the baby is his main concern.
Even though I saw this coming, I’d been harboring a wild hope that he’d come to his senses, or maybe find one little corner of his heart where he actually cared about me, and let me disappear in peace.
That’s not how it's going to be, and it’s hard not to dwell on all the horrible scenarios that might play out in my future. I feel safe here at the compound, but I also know what Preston’s capable of.
As I change for bed, I rest my hand on my belly and close my eyes for a moment.We’ll be safe,I tell my daughter.I’ll keep you safe. These men will keep us safe.
Dr. Navarro said it was important to manage stress. I can’t let this new development rattle me.
I take a deep breath and pull on my pajama pants. They’re getting tight, even though they have an elastic waistband. I hate to ask Atlas to buy things for me, but I guess the time has come for maternity clothing when stretchy pants can no longer stretch far enough.
I pull my hair up into a loose bun, drop my dirty clothes off in the hamper in my room, and go to Boyd’s room, which is empty. I’m sitting on the end of his bed when he comes in half a minute later, carrying a mug and a plate.
“I know you like cider in the evening, and I made toast for you.”
“Thank you. Why’d you do that?”
He shrugs and hands me the plate. “Comfort and calories. Figure you can use both.”
I don’t feel much like eating, but I appreciate the gesture, and he’s probably right about the calories, so I take a bite of the buttery, crisp toast. Boyd sits next to me, cradling the mug in his hand.
“Doing okay?” he asks after I’ve eaten one of the triangles.
“Tonight’s been quite the rollercoaster.”
Boyd makes a sound, not quite a laugh, that signals his agreement.
I pick up another piece of toast, then hold the plate out to him. “Can you eat the rest? I don’t want it to go to waste.”
He makes it disappear with a couple of big bites, then sits chewing, staring toward the blank wall across the room.
“Areyoudoing okay?” I ask.
“Hmm?” I’ve caught him lost in thought. He shakes his head as if he’s clearing it. “I’m okay.”
But he doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
I rub my hand over the cotton of his sleeve and squeeze the hard muscle beneath. “Boyd, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing,” he says. It’s obvious that something’s changed since the fun we shared in the workshop, but his withdrawal doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the press conference.
I set a hand on the side of his face, gently scratching my fingers over his beard. “I know you better than that. Tell me what’s wrong, Boyd.”
“I’m not going to make this about me. Not after the news.”
He glances at me, sees me patiently watching him, then stares back at the distant wall. “I was prepared to want you, and to step back and never have you. But now that we’ve—” I rub his arm and encourage him to continue when he pauses. “Now that we’ve been together, it gets under my skin even more when he touches you.”
He means Atlas, obviously. “Boyd?—”
“I’m not proud of how I feel,” he cuts in. “I’m not angry at him. Hell, I trust him with my life. I’d give mine up for him.” He inhales a ragged breath. “But I see his hand on you, or the way Viper was checking out your body tonight, and something in me goes feral.Possessive. Stupid.”
“That doesn’t make you bad,” I say softly.
“It makes me jealous,” he snaps. “There. I said it.”
