‘Please Ax,’ I try, barely above a whisper. ‘Talk to me.’
‘I can’t do this.’
His voice slices through the car – flat, final – and my insides freeze over. He’s not talking about conversation. Or coming upstairs. My heart kicks against my ribs, panic clawing up my throat.
‘You can’t do this right now?’ I turn to face him fully. ‘Or you can’t do this ever?’
That’s when the air leaves him. Like I’ve knocked it out with a fist.
‘Did you not hear what she said in there?’ he grits out. ‘I can’t give you the child you so desperately want. And that was the deal, Tay. A baby.’
‘I don’t care,’ I insist, leaning closer. ‘It doesn’t matter. There are options, things we can?—’
‘It doesn’tmatter?’ His laugh is a rasp, broken and brutal. ‘You don’tcare?’
The blood drains from my face, realising how it sounds.
‘I can’t give you the thing you want most in the world – and you don’t care? I can’t be afather, Tay. Not now. Not ever. And that doesn’tmatter?’
His voice cracks violently at ‘father’, like the word itself guts him.
And that’s when I realise: it was no longer just my dream; it was his too.
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
My God, I think I’m going to be sick.
‘Ain’t it?’ he throws back, breath shaking. ‘Taylor, I can’t have a child. Not with you. Not with anyone. It’s there, set in stone. My blood is fucked.’
‘She said there was still a chance?—’
‘No, there ain’t!’ He tears his hands through his hair. ‘Read between the lines. It’s never gonna happen. I ain’t putting you anywhere near that kind of pain to try.’
‘But that’s my choice.’
‘And this is mine.’
‘Please don’t do this, Ax.’
‘No,youdon’t do this,’ he says hoarsely. ‘I didn’t even want this. I’d never even considered it, until…’
He looks at me then – really looks – and the devastation in his eyes wrecks me all over again.
‘You put the idea in my head,’ he rasps out. ‘And suddenly, it mattered. Suddenly, I could see it. Us. A baby. A family.’ His breath falters, breaks. ‘And now it’s gone. Before it even existed.’
I reach out, desperate for him, but he flinches like I’m fire.
‘Don’t.’
‘Ax, please, I’m so sorry,’ I plead.
‘Not as sorry as I am.’ He grips the wheel once more, eyes fixed ahead. ‘I need to be alone, Tay… please. Get out.’
‘But I—’ This can’t be happening. It can’t. ‘I love you.’
His knuckles flash white. The only sign he heard me.
‘Don’t do this,’ I beg, tears burning hot. ‘Not like this.’
