Page 90 of Every Last Breath

His thoughts derailed. He drew in a strained breath. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“My mom suspected I was pregnant before I did. The smell of fish started making me sick, and I complained everything tasted like metal. She made me take a pregnancy test. I was terrified when it was positive. We were too young, not engaged—but it was yours, so I was also thrilled.”

Sharp memories swarmed him. The way she’d stopped drinking soda because she said it was like sucking on pennies. The time she’d gotten sick in a seafood restaurant. “How far along were you when I left?”

Her gaze shuttered. “Close to three months.”

His chest constricted. “Why didn’t you tell me after you found out?”

“Mom asked me not to. You would’ve dragged me to city hall and married me.”

That’s precisely what he would’ve done. Although he was only twenty-four and she not yet twenty, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

“My mother said that if I gave everything serious consideration for a couple of weeks, really thought it over, she’d be my ally in whatever decision I made. Even if it opposed my father.”

Of course she’d agreed to that. Cole knew exactly where Castle got his imposing frame, self-righteous attitude, and explosive temper. Maddox would’ve been crazy to refuse her mother’s offer.

“I wish you had told me. I get it. I do. Taking your mother’s deal was the right call, but what was there to think about?”

“Binding myself to you and your family forever. That’s what a baby would have done. Forever with you was what I wanted. But forever with Ilya?” She shook her head. “I hadn’t considered what our kids would be subjected to around him. And what if my father was right and your family didn’t pull out of organized crime? What would it mean for our children?”

Shutting his eyes, he raked his hair back with his hands. She never would’ve asked him to walk away from his blood, even if it was to start a new family with her. He’d been naive and shortsighted. He hadn’t considered the danger his family posed to creating a new one, the hazards he’d subjected her to by bringing her around them.

“I never should’ve exposed you to my family. Never should’ve put you in a position where you had to have secrets from your father.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Did you consider having an abortion?” He didn’t blame her. How could he?

“No. Never.” She met his gaze. “I had a miscarriage. I was six months pregnant when I lost the baby. Twenty-four weeks.”

A chill scraped his soul. At six months, women showed, felt the baby kick, rubbed their bellies, started shopping. She must’ve seen it on a sonogram, heard a heartbeat. Things he’d missed, like watching her belly grow heavy with his child.

He’d almost been a father. Oh God, he’d lost more than he ever knew.

They both had, but she’d borne the brunt without him.

He got up and sat on the floor beside her. “I’m so sorry.” Tucking hair behind her ear, he ran his thumb down the side of her face tentatively, hoping she’d let him get closer. “So far along—is that normal?”

She brought her knees up to her chest. “I’d been cramping, but the doctor said it was normal. Until it wasn’t. Castle was home on terminal leave from the navy and found me sitting in a pool of blood. He rode with me in the ambulance, held my hand in the hospital.”

The loss of their baby, her sorrow, his failure tore him to shreds. They’d almost had a child. Been a family.

Tears leaked from her eyes. He pressed his lips to her cheeks to catch them and wrapped his arms around her. She put her head on his shoulder, accepting the small comfort.

“Cervical incompetence, the doctor called it. My body couldn’t carry the baby.” Her voice thickened. “The doctor said my condition could be treated for next time, like our baby was replaceable. First, I’d failed you by opening my big mouth, then I failed you by letting our baby die. It was all too much, and it broke me.”

He ached for her. Combing a hand through her hair, he rubbed her back, slow and steady. Beneath her tough exterior, she was fragile and bruised. The vulnerability she shared with him was precious, and he cherished it.

She’d carried this around far too long and it was time for her to shed this burden. “You didn’t let our baby die. It wasn’t your fault, honey. Stop blaming yourself.”

“Our baby weighed one and a half pounds,” she said, her face soft, voice soft. “They issued a stillbirth death certificate. I named him Kinkade Reznikov.”

Tears pricked the backs of his eyes, and his heart bled with hers. “That’s a good name.”

He wanted to erase the pain of the past, make it better somehow. Apologize for not having the strength and good sense to come back for her. But sorry couldn’t undo what had been done.

Some scars never went away.

“After I got out of the hospital, I couldn’t bear seeing a baby or a pregnant woman. I’d have panic attacks, sometimes a complete breakdown. Then I stopped leaving the house.”

Seeing young couples in love, families with small children, had been hard on him, but he couldn’t imagine how much harder it must’ve been for her, compounded by thinking he was dead. He’d been clueless, safe in his ignorance.