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“Being in love with you feels a lot like being kept in bondage. All these strings weaving us together are pulled so tight, I can hardly breathe anymore.”

I step into her, resting my forehead against hers. “I’m not giving up. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I was worth the risk, but we’ll go at your pace.”

She huffs at my inability to back down. “My pace is glacial. But sure, whatever you say, Lick.” She pulls herself free and heads up to the house, her shoulders hunched, her body tense, her whole demeanour closed off and withdrawn.

I silently curse. This is going to be a far harder battle than I initially thought, but she’s worth it. Every wound she inflicts, every scar left behind, I’ll wear with pride. Because I’ll know when she lets me back in, it will be because I earned it.

It’s fucked-up, but I’m strangely proud that she turned me down. It means she doesn’t feel obligated to say yes to me because she’s in a shitty situation. I don’t want to be some false hero rushing in to save the day. I want to make sure she never needs saving again, even from me.

I pull out my phone as she disappears inside.

“How did it go?” My father answers in greeting.

“About as well as I could expect.”

He sighs, and I can imagine him rubbing his hand over his face. “You’ll make it right. I have faith in you.”

“What if I can’t? What if the damage I caused was too catastrophic?”

“Then that’s the price you’ll have to pay for her peace.”

41

Emma

He made me breakfast every day, whether I was up or not. He either had it ready on the table when I came down, or carried it up to the room I was staying in on a tray to eat in bed.

My emotions veered from sad to angry, frustrated to grateful. I was in the thick of postpartum depression, and some days just getting out of bed to visit my son drained the life out of me.

But breakfast always came. It was my one constant, and eventually something to look forward to. Lick never forced me to talk to him or used it as an excuse to be in my presence. It was just a reminder that he was here and that I wasn’t alone. For the most part, I tried to stay out of his way. He made that difficult, always popping up as if out of thin air. If we weren’t living together, I’d almost say he was stalking me, which is ridiculous, of course.

Being around him when he was being sweet fogged my brain. It made me forget for a second the hurt that comes with the happy. But as soon as I find myself smiling, I remember that visceral slash across my heart, watching him kiss that woman while his eyes were locked on mine. I wish I could unsee it, but it’s etched into my brain in blinding 4K. I want to be the bigger person here and forgive him, but I also want to smack him around the head with a frying pan. I’m not sure I can trust my feelings while my hormones are on a mission to destroy me, one mental breakdown at a time.

“Are you ready?”

I scream like a chick in a horror movie about to meet her maker and whirl around to glare at the asshole grinning at me. “Not funny.”

“I thought you heard me.”

“See, thinking was your first mistake.”

“You woke up and chose violence today, huh, baby?” he murmurs, moving closer until I’m stuck between him and the bathroom counter.

Before I can tell him to fuck off, thus proving his point, he bends down and presses a light kiss to my lips before taking advantage of my surprise and tugging me out of the bathroom by my hand.

“Let’s go. I want to bring our son home,” he yells over his shoulder as he hurries us to the door. I can’t help but smile. Despite the discord between us, there is no denying he’s excited about being a dad, which I’m thankful for. Kendrick deserves that.

“Wait, I need to grab⁠—”

“I’ve already got everything in the car ready to go.”

“My phone? Bag?”

“Everything.”

I plant my feet and wait for him to stop and look at me. “Sanitary towels, breast pads, nipple cream?”

Unfazed, he winks. “I even threw in clean underwear and a change of clothes in case you leak through.”