by Stasia Black
Men. I sigh, thinking of how my own father spent his life trying to protect me because he loved me but ended up screwing things up so royally.
Why couldn’t he have just said the words?
I love you.
Three simple words that seem so impossible for these emotionally stunted men.
The words Xavier has yet to say to me.
I walk toward the door, looking at Xavier’s retreating shape through the heavy sheets of rain. I press my hand to the glass. More than anything, I want to run after him but I have the feeling he needs to be alone.
I turn back and look at his dad. “So what exactly happened? There were protests at the airbase? And,” I gulp down tears, “someone threw acid at him?”
Pritchard looks up at me, bags that I didn’t notice before heavy underneath his eyes. “He’s right. I did send him there because I thought it would look good for his career. But if I’d had any idea.” His face crumbles and he looks away from me. “If I’d known it would have lost me my son…” His voice trails off.
After a few long seconds, he finally continues, still facing away from me. “He went to Afghanistan as a commissioned officer, a lieutenant. He was a good officer. He was always a natural leader. Probably why we got into as many scuffles as we did during his growing up.”
He shakes his head. “He was only there two months when it happened. Barely enough time to get his feet wet and no chance at all to really get a feel for the place. No one blamed him.”
“What happened?” I press.
“He was stationed at the detention center at the base. Not a top position but he had responsibility enough. He was smart and he discovered that Taliban prisoners were using their religious text as a means of communicating with each other. They were writing notes in the margins of the Qurans in the prisoner’s library. Xavier reported it and had his men remove the Qurans.”
Pritchard’s head bows. “Well, apparently some of them thought that removing the Qurans meant sending them to the incinerator, not just taking them out of circulation and sending them up the line of command.”
I frown. “Okay.”
Pritchard finally turns and looks at me. “You don’t get it. Burning a holy book is enough to start a jihad over there.”
Oh no. My stomach sinks. I’m starting to get where this is going.
“Some Afghan workers on base saw the Qurans in the incinerator pile and pulled them out, half-burned.” He closes his eyes. “They told the Afghan guard and went to the press. The entire country started rioting. The airbase itself was taking a constant barrage of petrol bombs and stones. One of the Afghan soldiers the Americans were training within the gates started shooting American soldiers before being shot down. Another threw open the gates to the rioters. Seven American soldiers died at that site alone. Some of the other rioters had bottles of acid.”
I step back, a fist to my mouth, but Pritchard’s not done.
“Xavier shouldn’t have even been there.” He shakes his head, devastated eyes beseeching mine. “He was stationed inside the detention facility. But as soon as he realized what had happened and that the facility was surrounded by protestors and rioters, he immediately went to the front lines of the air base’s defenses.”
He drinks down the rest of his water like it’s a shot glass. “Damn fool.”
I look toward the door. “Hero,” I whisper. Then I look back up at him. “But none of it was his fault.”
His father laughs darkly. “Try telling him that. He blames himself for not stressing to those under his command how holy documents should be treated. For not walking the Qurans personally to HQ after he discovered them.” He gestures toward the door. “For living when other men died. You heard him.”
I look out the window. It’s raining even harder now and lightning flashes, illuminating the dark sky. It should only be near twilight, but with the storm, it looks to be full dark.
Where is Xavier?
Is he having trouble with the horses?
I cross my arms and then stop and look down, surprised like I am all the time by my suddenly larger stomach.
Oh, sweet little baby. What hell did your father live through? And what torment does he still go through daily, blaming himself for things he had no control over?
I go to the window and look out, trying to see if I can get a glimpse of Xavier between the flashes of lightning that are coming at regular intervals. Thunder cracks almost as quickly.
God, the storm must be right on top of us.
But it’s not so loud that when the gunshot rings out, both Pritchard and I don’t know it for exactly what it is.
Chapter 20
“Oh my God!” I shout and throw open the door.
Pritchard is on my heels but I don’t wait for him as I sprint into the darkness. Mud sucks at my boots with every step I take but I press on.
What the hell was that? Who would have a gun out here?
Xavier. Xavier has a gun.
Did a wolf or bear get close to one of the horses? But I would have thought in a storm they’d hole up, not come near a house. Unless they got their directions all screwed up and—
As I get closer to the stable, I hear the most bone-chilling noise.
It’s a scream, but not human.
It’s a horse.
I run even faster. I throw open the barn door. The lights are on and all the horses are stomping madly, but Xavier’s not there. The opposite door is open, though, and slanting sheets of rain pour into the stable.
I sprint through the barn, the light making me squint after the darkness, wiping water off my forehead. Only to hit the wall of water once I burst out the other side.
The horrible horse scream greets me again once I exit the stable, and that’s when I see a sight that will forever haunt me.
Not fifteen feet in front of me is Xavier facing off with Samson, holding a pistol straight out in front of him while Samson rears up on his hind legs.
“No!” I scream and run forward.
I’m not sure if I mean for Xavier not to shoot the horse or for Samson not to land and trample Xavier.
Either way, Xavier looks over at me and his entire demeanor changes. He lowers the pistol and races toward me.
“What the hell are you doing?” He shouts, shoving me behind him as he faces Samson. I can barely hear him above the rain. “Get back in the house.”
“What’s going on?” I shout back. “Why do you have a gun?”
Samson rears up once more and then settles, stamping and shuffling backward. It’s only then that I see Sugar moving along the side of the pasture fence not far away and—is she limping?
What the hell happened out here? Did Samson hurt her?
Xavier keeps his body between me and Samson, all the while facing the horse. With one arm on me, he shuffles us backward toward the barn, with the other, he lifts the gun at Samson again, jaw like iron.
When Samson takes a step toward us, he cocks the gun.
“Stop it!” I shout, grabbing his arm holding the gun. He immediately lowers it and turns on me, lifting me over his shoulder and walking briskly for the barn.
As soon as he gets me inside, he puts me down on my feet.
“Don’t you ever put our baby in harm’s way like that again!” he shouts at me. “What the fuck were you thinking? Are you a fucking idiot? How many times have I told you not to approach a horse when they are upset or you aren’t in control of the situation? That horse could have killed you both!”
I stand tall and strong in front of him even though he towers over me and is screaming at the top of his considerable lungs. “Put the gun down,” I say calmly.
It’s only then that he realizes he’s been waving a loaded gun at me while he rants. He freezes and I can see the absolute horror as it hits him.
It’s like he just shuts down.
An inhuman calmness takes over.
He lowers the weapon and uncocks it, then clicks the safety on and puts it in the back of his pant
s. We’re both soaking and breathing hard but suddenly his breaths even out like he flipped some kind of switch.
“I should have gelded Samson as soon as I got him on the property. Keeping him as a stallion for even a few months was a foolhardy and sentimental decision.” He speaks in such a monotone that he sounds like a robot. “He broke out of his paddock and mated with Sugar, injuring her in the process. I should have foreseen something like this happening. I failed her just like I failed so many before.”
“Xavier,” I start but he cuts me off.
“It’s not safe for you to stay here.”
“What?” I exclaim. “That’s ridiculous, we’ll get Samson gelded and—”
He gives a hard, decisive shake no. “The problem isn’t Samson. It’s me. I fail those who rely on me. And the consequences…” His jaw goes tight and his sight distant like he’s seeing something far beyond the stable. After a moment he refocuses. “I thought with this place… If I could just control enough factors, if I could train them correctly from the start…”
He looks around at the stable and for the briefest moment I think I see longing enter his eyes before they go dead again. “But no. First Hellfire. Now Sugar. I’ll always fail them.” Then he looks at me. “God forbid anyone entrust a human to me. It was bad enough that I already endangered you and the baby when I cut out after Hellfire.” He shakes his head. “Leaving you to do all the work, you could have lost the baby, but did I even consider that? No.” His eyes are darting everywhere. Unfocused. “You’ll leave with my father tonight.”
My mouth drops open. “I will not.” I laugh out a disbelieving scoff. “You’re insane if you think I’ll—”
Suddenly he’s whipped the gun out again, only this time he’s pointing it at his own head.
“Xavier!” I scream.
He unclicks the safety and cocks it. “I’m having a hard-enough time believing I deserve to be in this world at all. I should have died that day in Afghanistan. Those men were killed right in front of me because of something I caused. It should have been me.”
“Xavier, stop it! Put the gun down! We’re going to have a baby,” I cry. Tears pour down my cheeks. Oh God, how can he be saying these things? How can the man who’s stronger than anyone else I know believe this of himself?
“I can’t hurt anyone else,” he whispers, desperation entering his voice. For a brief moment, I can see the man I love breaking through this deadened façade he’s trying to portray. “Especially not you or our baby.”
“Give me the gun, Xavier.” I try to swallow my tears. “We had a fucked-up start, okay? I’m not going to romanticize it. You bringing me here like you did was majorly fucked up.”
He nods like I’m making his point for him. I shake my head vehemently. “But getting to know you, to love you—it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I can see in the way his eyes shutter and his face closes down that I’m losing him again so I press on.
“I always thought that submission meant weakness. I grew up thinking the only way I’d make it in the world was on my own because no one was ever going to help me, not even my own father. I never believed I could belong anywhere. I had to be strong on my own terms, always, 24/7. I could never let my guard down for even a second.”
I take a step toward him when I see what looks like the slightest bit of hesitation on his face. Am I getting through to him? Oh God, please let him hear me. “Do you know how exhausting living that way was? I didn’t even realize it until you started breaking down my walls and showing me a different way.” I have to make him understand. He has to understand. “You showed me how lonely and empty a life is without real connection. We’re wired to connect. But that’s only possible if we open ourselves up to trust. And God,” tears course down my cheeks, “that was so goddamned terrifying, I fought you tooth and nail every step of the way. Making myself vulnerable enough to trust you? To trust anyone? After what my mother did to me? Or even Dad, how he pushed me away my whole life, even though he thought it was for my own good? You gave me the gift of learning how to trust. And now I’ll be able to pass that on to our son or daughter.”
“Don’t come any closer,” Xavier says, blinking rapidly. His hand holding the gun starts to shake so badly I’m terrified he’ll accidentally pull the trigger. “You’re stronger than me. You always were. I knew it from the start.” His voice is strained, like every word is gutting him. At least I’m not talking to a zombie anymore.
I shake my head, taking another step toward him. “I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you’ve been hurting. We can work through this. You have to trust me now.”
“Stay back!” he yells, his eyes wide and neck so taut with tension all the veins are standing out. “I hurt everyone around me. I swore I’d protect you! And I will. Even if it’s from myself.”
Oh my God— “No! Okay, give me the gun and I’ll go.” Something is seriously wrong with Xavier. And it’s bigger than me or logic or maybe even love, a poison that’s been warping his perception of himself and the world ever since what happened in Afghanistan. Right now the only priority is to get that gun away from him. “I’ll go with your father. We’ll leave. Okay? Just give me the gun. I can’t leave without knowing you’re going to be okay.”
Behind Xavier, I see his father step forward from behind the horse stalls. He raises a finger over his lips as he approaches his son from the back.
“I’m doing what you wanted,” I try to soothe. “I’ll go. But you have to give me the gun. I won’t leave unless you give me the gun.”
His dad is almost to him. Just a little bit closer…
Xavier shakes his head rapidly back and forth and I see tears forming at the edges of his eyes. “You and the baby have to be safe. From me. This is the only way.” His finger twitches on the trigger.
“Xavier, no!” I shout.
His dad lurches forward in the same moment as the shot rings out.
Chapter 21
“Push! You’re doing great. Just give us another good push!” the perky twenty-five-year-old blonde nurse encourages.
“I fucking hate you!” I shout and then bear down. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
“Oh, you’re a feisty one,” Perky Nurse enthuses. Her actual name is Kristi or Kelly or something. “Your baby is going to need all that wonderful energy as soon as he comes out.”
Oh my God, this woman is unflappable, no matter how many obscenities I shout at her. Turns out the first words my son hears in this world are going to be the four-letter kind because, yeah, pain brings out the potty mouth in me.
Which brings a pang that feels almost as wrenching as the pain currently splitting me in half because I can just imagine his father leaning over me and growling, “Language.”
But little Dean’s father isn’t here.
I think Dean is a good name.
Pritchard told me that Xavier always hated how fancy the first names in their family were. So Dean sounded like a good, simple, solid name.
Not having Xavier here to meet his son when he’s born, I can’t, it’s just—
Oh shit, here comes another one.
“Where is my goddamned motherfucking epidural?”
“You know you’re too far dilated at this point for an epidural,” Perky McPerky Fuck reminds me. “Now push. You’re almost there.”
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shiiiiiiiiiiit!!” I yell then take a breath and push while the pain rips through me. The doctor holds one ankle while the other’s in the stirrup.
“He’s crowning,” the doctor announces. “Keep pushing.”
“Fucking fuck!” I scream.
“That’s right, Precious! You scream your head off.”
What? How did—?
But it’s him. Xavier’s here! He’s not supposed to get out of the PTSD treatment facility for another three weeks but he’s here. In a fresh gown and ridiculous cap and mask they make people wear to be in the delivery room.
“How are—” I start to ask bu
t then I’m racked by another contraction.
“Push, Precious.” He comes to my side and grabs my hand. “I love you so much.”
Tears explode down my cheeks. With how hard I’m pushing, no body fluid is graceful at the moment. Is he really here or is this some pain-induced hallucination?
I haven’t laid eyes on him for three months. When his father tackled him, the gunshot went askew into the ceiling of the barn, thank God. But it was enough to convince Xavier to submit himself to a treatment facility his father had found in upstate New York.
After a few weeks, he had something of a breakthrough and got clear-headed enough to realize just how much he’d almost lost. Then he became so dedicated to getting better, he took the doctor’s suggestion to really commit to the intensive inpatient treatment program—one that had no contact with the outside world, to my dismay. In our last conversation, he promised he would come out and be the man that I and our son or daughter deserved.
“I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t tell you those words before. I love you and I love our son. Precious, we’re about to meet our son.” He laughs and sounds so young and free. I blink through my tears to look up at him. He’s never been more gorgeous to me. His blue eyes have tears glistening at the edges, too. “Because of you. Because of how fucking amazing you are.”
The doctor asks Xavier if he wants to take my other ankle. He looks to me and I nod.
I can’t take my eyes off him as I push.
“He’s crowning,” the doctor announces. “Keep pushing.”
I grit my teeth and push. Xavier squeezes my ankle. “Precious, he’s almost here. Holy Christ, you’re doing it! Our son. Our son!”
His eyes flip back and forth between me and watching for our son.
“One last big push,” calls the doctor.
“You can do it,” Xavier encourages. “I love you. I love you.”
