He blinks out of his stupor, and his eyes light with anticipation. He shuffles closer, waiting.
I frown. “They’re being stubborn. Let me lie on my back.”
Warren stands. With my head resting on the arm of the sofa and legs stretched out in front of me, I lift my shirt and gesture at my belly. “Try now.”
He hesitates for a beat before rubbing his palms together and blowing into them. Kneeling beside me, he slowly lowers both hands. I jump slightly at the contact—not because they’re cold, but because the feel of his skin sends a current of electricity through my veins.
He doesn’t take his eyes off my belly as he waits.
“C’mon, Button.” I poke my side. “Say hi to Daddy.”
“Hey, little one.” Warren clears his throat, not enough to hide the emotion thickening his voice. “I bet you’re nice and snug in there, huh? I can’t wait to meet you.”
My heart swells. God, I want to kiss him again. Maybe this is the welcome distraction he needs.
A small thump under his palm has him sucking in a breath. “Is that…”
And again.
“That’s our baby saying hello.”
A new mask slips over Warren’s face, something of complete wonderment. It might be my favorite yet. Scratch that—my favorite is the smile stretching wide as he peers up at me, cheek resting on my stomach.
“Pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
“It is.” The air gets caught in my throat when he leans over and brushes his lips where his hands rested. “Like their mama. So beautiful and brave.”
I press my hand to his jaw, drawing his face to meet mine again. I can’t shake the feeling Warren’s fear didn’t originate purely from my accident. Triggered, yes, but theterror runs deep through to his bones. “See, we’re okay. More than okay, because you’re looking after us. We’re lucky to have you.”
An awareness washes over him, his body tensing slightly. “When you called to tell me you were in an accident…”
“You were scared?”
He nods, eyes lowering as he shuffles through his thoughts.
“You can talk to me.” I drag my nails through the stubble growing on his face. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”
“Harriet. I’m…” He swallows. “I have PTSD.”
I blink in shock. The surprise comes more from his sudden admission more than anything. I go to respond, but he continues, as if speaking the truth for the first time triggers an avalanche.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I’m working hard to overcome it. I’m seeing a therapist. It rarely impacts my ability to do my job these days, but tonight, I went to a dark place.”
I hesitate, not wanting to push him past what he’s comfortable sharing. I can’t imagine the scenes he and his colleagues have witnessed over the years, and though I don’t know many firefighters, PTSD must be common.
“Where did you go?”
His mouth opens, but no words follow.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell.” I sit up and rest my hands on his shoulders.
I expect him to accept my offer and to end the conversation.
“I attended a call once during a spell of storms battering the city. Flooding, mudslides, power cuts. People lost their homes…and lives.” The storms he mentions were before I moved here, but I know of them. “The banks of a river burst, forcing the city to close a lot of major roads. It was close to midnight when we received a report of an overturned vehicle along the highway. It’s suspected they hydroplaned and lost control.” His eyes glaze over as he recalls the details. “She was pronounced dead on arrival. They reckon it happened hours earlier, but with the road closed, no one was around to witness it. Or help her.”
His voice is despondent, completely void to mirror his vacant expression. I don’t dare move or speak, wanting to give him a safe space to share.
“Not long after, I was diagnosed with PTSD and signed off work for four months. I saw a handful of therapists and was prescribed a cocktail of medications.” His somber eyes meet mine, and his next words tumble from his lips in a broken whisper while his hand drifts to my stomach. “They helped to an extent, but I’ve never been able to forget that call. The woman…She…” Warren’s breathing starts increasing again and I panic flares in his eyes.
