Love and War: Part Two (Shadows in the Dark Book 2)
Love and War: Part Two – Chapter 2

I turn for the twentieth time in the last hour. I’ve counted. Every single time. The whole damn house smells like her. The bed is cold. It’s too fucking quiet; the sound of madness. For the first time, I can actually hear the slight buzzing of the neon light hanging on the wall.

I grab her pillow and pull it against me, trying to sleep, but I’m wired. All I’ve managed to do since I got home is shower and stare at the clock. Midnight. Christmas Day. That dreadful holiday to postpone work one more day. Why I promised to stay away ‘til then I’ll never know. I had a weak moment. It’s the only explanation. I’ve never followed orders before unless it resulted in a payday.

I was warming up to this bullshit day because of her. It became routine. Every day we came home she plugged in the Christmas tree. There are even a few presents under it she wrapped. Who the hell knows what they are. I don’t need or want anything, at least not before now. Now, this day is on my shit list.

I close my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep, to stop thinking. When my eyes remain in a state of nothingness, I open them. It’s a wasted effort. I sit up, aggravated, and turn on the bedside lamp. The photo is lying next to my wallet and phone. I pick it up, looking at it again. Shit.

I grab my phone, trying her again. Same fucking recording it’s been all day. I toss it back on the table, the heel of my hand pressing against my forehead as I lean over, elbow on my thigh. I can’t just fucking sit here.

Then a thought occurs to me. That strip club. A place that exploited her. The guy that was important enough to go back to when she was stubborn and in need of money. Like right the fuck now.

The craving sets in. It’s already been justified in my mind. I stand, making my way to my closet. Some motherfucker is going to die today, and it’s going to be the one she loved first, because he sure as hell isn’t going to become an option for last.

Delta

The thunder rolls overhead, rain pelting down on the metal roof. It’s a soothing melody in a world of chaos. I grab the bag of rice and open it, removing my phone. I can’t believe I dropped it in the toilet and didn’t even notice ‘til it had been there a while. Thankfully this shit day is over. I try to power it on with no success. I growl, throwing it against the wall. “Piece of shit.”

I wonder if he’s even upset I’m gone, or if he’s tried to call. I shouldn’t think about him. He hurt me. But I can’t help it. Since Lux brought me here to this small guesthouse with a bedroom, bathroom, central space, and small kitchen, I’ve just wanted to be alone. What more could I possibly need here?

A large body covered in ink, decorated with scars, and wrapped around you while you sleep . . .

“No! That’s not what I need.” I glance around, hoping Lux didn’t walk in. I’m only going to look crazy talking out to no one.

Kross doesn’t want our baby. I’ve had a lot of time to think, sleep, and miss him. Too much time. And I don’t even have my phone to occupy my mind. It’s a recipe for disaster.

The front door opens and closes. Lux walks in, flipping down the hood on her raincoat. She holds up a thermal insulated carrying bag. “I brought you food. You need to eat.”

“I’ll probably just throw it up. You can put it in the refrigerator for later. Why are you awake at this time?”

Her shoulders rise and fall with her breath of desperation. She removes her coat. She’s offered me food twice already today. I’ve yet to eat any of it. I don’t have the appetite for it anymore.

She makes her way to the small kitchen and sets the bag down on the counter, unzipping it. She removes a crockpot and plugs it in. “Soup. It’s broth based. Helps with queasiness. Not an excuse this time.” Then she pulls out a sleeve of saltine crackers. “I’ve amended the menu to accommodate first trimester pregnancy.”

The tears begin to fall again. I’ve tried to push the baby to the back of my mind in an effort to not allow resentment to build. It doesn’t deserve it. It didn’t ask to be created.

She sets the crackers down and rushes toward me, pulling me into a hug. “Delta, please stop crying.”

The blubbering begins, my tears soaking her shoulder. “I miss him: his silence, his moodiness, his demands. I miss it all. I’ve thought about this all day. You don’t know him like I do. Occasionally he gives me pieces of himself—the guy that he keeps buried for protection. He has a tormented, beautiful soul, and I’ve only scratched its surface. Some of the times that I sat and thought about this pregnancy, I wish I could do it. I wish I could turn off the fact that I already love it, that I care, and I think that with one act I could go back and be us again, but then the guilt consumes me for even having those thoughts when your angel is in heaven. What kind of person entertains the idea of getting rid of her child?”

“A girl that’s heartbroken, Delta. It’s okay to be upset. Had I been old enough to really understand what was happening to me, I likely would have been too.”

“Before today, I had some hope that he would accept it. I expected anger, even fear, but I still hoped he would want it. That we would be a happy family in the end. We created life. That’s a beautiful thing, whether it was on purpose or not. I feel like two different people inside. Part happy and part sad. It’s making me crazy.”

She runs her hand down my long hair. “He came by today. Well, technically it was yesterday.”

I lift my head. “What? What do you mean came, as in past tense? Where did he go?”

She breathes deeply. “Sit down, Delta.”

“Where did he go, Lux?” I ask, my heartbreak quickly turning into agitation.

“Delta, sit down,” she commands in a harsher voice.

I storm over to the couch, sitting down. She follows me. “You were upset and hurt. He was angry. You told me you didn’t want to see anyone.”

“That didn’t include the father of my child! Especially after he stormed out of the house with looks to kill.”

“Exactly why you needed a break. He wasn’t in a good mindset. I told him he couldn’t see you. “

I stand. “You didn’t have that right! You should have come and gotten me.”

“He said things. I slapped him. You weren’t in a place to deal with that kind of shit, Delta. If you were, you wouldn’t have left.”

“You don’t understand him. It’s obvious. I need to make sure he’s okay. He says hurtful things sometimes. He doesn’t mean them like any other guy would. He reacts without thinking. That’s a result of his background. All he’s ever known is negativity, solitude, and abuse. I’ve dealt with it just fine and never slapped him! Oh, my god.”

I begin to pace between the coffee table and the couch. “If you don’t care how he treats you then why are you here? Why did you leave if you’re just going to give in to his every controlling demand?”

“I left because it was the only other choice without obeying him. That doesn’t mean I don’t still love him, Lux. Just because I chose to keep our baby against his wishes doesn’t mean I want to completely abandon him, to cut him out. I’m giving him what he wants—a life with no kids. I can’t even hate him. And I’ve imagined how hard it’s going to be to do this alone. He’s had enough people in his life do that. He’s a direct result of hatred and pain. He doesn’t intend to be cruel. It’s reflex. Some would even call it mimicking. What’s sad is that it’s not hard to see if you just look. He may be a dick a lot of times, but you can also be a glorified bitch when you want to be. If you would take off your own judgmental blinders you would see that you’re a lot like him, and Kaston loves you anyway.”

“Okay, okay. Truce? Please sit down. Let’s talk this out. You know I only want what’s best for you. I always have.”

I do as asked, falling back against the couch. My hand replaces the tattoo on the back of my neck, rubbing along the place his name is written in permanent ink. “If there were ever a moment when I knew without a shadow of doubt that he loved me, and he wanted this, even after everything he said, I’d go back. But until then, I’m giving him what he asked for. I’m showing him a life without us in it. I have to stand strong. I have to protect our baby. Because once it’s here, I have to know one hundred percent that it’ll always feel wanted, unlike me.

She sits back to match my position and grabs my hand, kissing the back of my fingers. “For the record, you’re the strongest girl I know.”

We sit in silence, listening to the rain on the roof. We’re in a torrential downpour and all I can think about is Kross, wondering what he’s doing, if he’s okay. Then, without effort, I pray.

God,

I know I’m probably the last person that deserves a wish. I’ve done things in my life that I’m not proud of. But, if you have a little extra grace to spare, please bring him back to me. Please make us a family.

Amen.