Page 94 of Everlasting Vows

“I woke in the night and you weren’t beside me,” she states matter-of-factly. Her chest rises and falls as though a weight has lifted from her.

“You know⁠—”

“I felt abandoned,” she blurts out at the same time I start to speak. “I wanted you to stay.” She locks her eyes with mine, and confidence that she’s sharing her truth, grows behind her eyes. “I needed you to stay.”

The pain in those few words splits my heart in two. I’ve hurt her again. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, and from experience, that sometimes hurts worse and takes longer to heal.

I don’t waste a moment. I apologize. “The last feeling I wanted you to experience was abandonment. I’m sorry, Abs.” I kiss her lips softly, and when she doesn’t pull away, I breathe in relief. “I wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t want a repeat of the night before.”

“I’d rather have you strangle me every single night than sleep apart from you, Nix,” she tells me frankly.

My entire muscular system freezes, including my heart and the muscles that make my lungs work. My body snaps into place, and time stands still as I study my wife, searching for her truth. “You can’t possibly mean that,” I breathe.

She nods. The action full of confidence. “I do.”

I scramble from the bed, her words cutting me to the core. I can’t stop my eyes from tracing the bruising on her throat. Caused by me. “I-I can’t put you at risk like that. You can’t ask me to do that. I’ll do anything for you, but you can’t ask me to put your life at risk.” She’s asking me to go against who I am at my core. It’s too much.

She climbs out of her side of the bed slowly and faces me boldly, the bed between us acting as a barrier. “I don’t see it as a risk.” Her posture is deceptively relaxed. “How often do you have night terrors?” Her head tilts to the side as she waits for her question to fall between us like a grenade.

I shake my head and my hands land on my hips while I study her as if she’s grown two heads. “I don’t know. They’re random.” I shrug. “They happen less often than they used to. The one I had the other night was probably the first one I’ve had in a while.” I hold my hands out from my sides. “But they’re unpredictable, Abs.” I lick my lips. “And violent.” I stare at her throat pointedly.

She licks her lips, then grabs the corner of the sheet, pulling it back so she can smooth out the fitted sheet below. “I get that they’re unpredictable, but if they happen less often, then the risk is reduced.”

I copy her, smoothing out the bottom sheet. “But it’s still a risk. One I’m not prepared to take.”

She shakes the top sheet, then allows it to float down into place. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“So you’re saying my wants and needs are secondary to yours?” she asks—a bite to her tone—as she smooths down the sheet, then leans over to tuck it in. I don’t even know why we’re making this bed when housekeeping will do it while we’re at the hospital.

I sense the trap in her question, but I’ve taken one step too many, and it’s impossible to back away now. “Of course not. Your wants and needs will always come first. I know I forgot to show you that for a while, but I’ve made major changes so I can be more available to you. I don’t want you to feel abandoned. Ever again. And I’m doing everything I can to ensure you don’t feel that way. But we can’t share a bed right now.”

Her gaze softens, the fierceness from a moment ago slipping away. “I know you have, and I appreciate it. We’ve come a long way since that awful morning in the kitchen. But what kind of marriage can we have if we can’t share a bed, Nix?” She looks down at the bed, rubbing the fabric of the blanket between her fingers. “Last night was so special to me. I felt as though we really connected. But then it all felt cheap when I woke and you weren’t there.” Her voice is small. Brittle. “I felt abandoned all over again.”

Defeat loosens the tension in my body, and I study my wife standing on the opposite side of the bed. Literally the last barrier between us. I climb onto it and take two unsteady steps across the mattress to my wife and jump off the other side. Grasping her hands, I squeeze her fingers, then rub the backs of her hands with my thumbs.

“The last thing I ever want to do is make you feel cheap or abandoned. Last night meant everything to me. I didn’t want to leave you. My heart felt heavier and heavier with every step I took away from you.” I bring her hands up to my mouth, pressing a kiss to each one. “I love you with everything I am, and I’m doing everything I can to be worthy of you.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pushing our hands out of the way to press her body against mine.

I touch my lips to her forehead, my eyes dropping closed as I soak in her essence and warmth. This woman is everything to me, but I don’t think she realizes how deeply her pain affects me.

Completely my fault.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her, our bodies pressed together. Silence descends over us like a heavy blanket, and I absorb the moment while trying to quiet my mind. Contingency plans won’t work here; I have to go with my heart instead of my gut. It feels unnatural. Risky.

The steady rise and fall of Abbi’s body as she breathes in and out changes to more of a shudder. I pull back a little and tip her face up to mine. Tears fill her eyes, and when she blinks up at me, they fall over her lashes, making them stick together.

“I’m scared.” Her lips tremble with her murmured words. Words that rip me limb from limb.

I brush her hair away from her face, cupping her wet cheeks reverently. My heart thuds heavily behind my ribs, reverberating through my entire body. “I never want you to be scared of me.”

If she’s constantly on alert and always on edge, will this be it? The end of our marriage?

She shakes her head the best she can in my hold, her brows furrowing. “Not of you.”

Relief replaces the anguish that was building a moment ago. “What are you scared of?” I ask gently.