If I Can't Have You

by Iris Morland

  He found her outside, gazing at the sunset, her arms wrapped around herself.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  She jumped a little, and when she faced him, he could see her eyes sparkling with tears. He'd wring his mother's neck if she had hurt Abby's feelings.

  "What is it? Did my mom—?"

  Abby shook her head. "No, no, your mom's done nothing. She was even nice to me earlier." But Abby wiped at her eyes and sighed.

  Now Mark was at a loss. He struggled to say what he should, or if he even had a right to pry. Did you ask about these things with the woman you were having an affair with?

  "Now I'm confused," he muttered.

  "I feel so guilty, you know? Lying to your family like this." Abby rubbed her arms. "I kept wanting to tell everyone the truth. And then meeting your brother Seth, who's fighting for our country... I feel like a fraud."

  "You aren't a fraud," he said swiftly. "If anything, blame me. I was the one who asked you to come."

  Her eyes widened, and then she leaned her forehead against his chest. "Mark..."

  He couldn't find the words, so instead, he kissed her, tasting salt on her lips. He was lost in Abby for long moments, not even hearing the screen door opening.

  Someone cleared their throat. Mark broke the kiss, but he didn't let Abby go. He looked over his shoulder to see Lizzie.

  "Sorry to interrupt, but Sara and Harrison are leaving. I thought you'd want to say goodbye," she said.

  "Thanks, Liz," Mark replied.

  Lizzie gave them a small smile and left them alone again.

  Abby moved away, leaving Mark feeling bereft.

  "We should go soon," she said quietly. "It's been a long day."

  He wanted to say something, anything, but what could he say? He'd never been good with words. He flailed like a trout upon dry land.

  "You aren't a fraud," he repeated. He clenched his jaw, trying to say the right thing. "You might not be my girlfriend, but you aren't just some woman, either."

  Her eyes shone. To his surprise, she didn't say anything, but merely kissed him before turning to go inside.

  13

  The Sunday following Thanksgiving, Mark came inside the house to tell Abby that he thought that Delilah was in labor. Excitement laced his voice, and Abby couldn't help but get excited, too.

  "Should we do anything? Call the vet?" she asked.

  "No, her pregnancy has been healthy. The best thing we can do is leave her alone. Horses don't like to be disturbed when giving birth."

  Abby smiled wryly. "Can't say that I blame her."

  Mark stayed outside, working with Charlie as the day passed, trying his best not to hover over Delilah. He'd check on her and then give Abby updates.

  After Abby had gotten the last update from Mark, she decided to go to bed, hopeful that in the morning, there'd be an adorable new foal to coo over.

  When she heard the knock on her bedroom door, she had to rub the edges of sleep from her eyes. She looked at the clock, which said three-thirty am.

  "Abby? I need your help," Mark said from the doorway.

  She turned on a lamp, blinking at the sudden wash of light. "What is it?"

  "It's Delilah. Something's wrong. I think it's the placenta." His expression was grim, his complexion white. "I've called the vet, but he's an hour away."

  She was about to ask what she could do, but her nurse's training kicked in automatically. At least she could keep Mark calm while they waited for the vet.

  "I'll be right there," she said as she grabbed her jeans.

  In the barn, Delilah lay on the stall floor, her breathing labored. Mark beckoned Abby inside the stall.

  "I think the placenta detached early," he said. He crouched down, stroking Delilah's head. He gestured at the horse. "Can you look at her?"

  Abby put up her hands. "Mark, I'm not a vet."

  "I know, but you're the best we've got right now." At her hesitation, he took her hand. "Please," he pleaded.

  She nodded, praying she could help somehow. As she began to examine Delilah, she made sure not to move too quickly and startle her. Looking at the horse's vulva, she saw what looked like a red bag, a telltale sign of the placenta detaching too soon.

  She'd seen placental abruptions before in humans, and she'd been in the delivery room when a pregnant woman had come into the ER complaining of excessive bleeding before they'd discovered the cause.

  "We need surgical scissors—something to cut away the placenta." She knew very well what would happen if they waited too long to deliver the foal: like a human baby experiencing the same issue, the foal would die from a lack of oxygen.

  She washed her hands as best as she could and put on gloves while Mark did the same.

  Before they returned to the stall, he said, "Thank you, Abby. Whatever happens, thank you."

  She wanted to hug him, but they didn't have time. When they returned, Delilah was snorting, clearly in distress as she tried to push the foal from her body. Mark soothed her while Abby began to work.

  She prayed again that she could save this foal, or at the very least, save Delilah. Her hands shaking a little, she cut open the red part of the placenta. She saw hooves and what looked like the foal's front feet.

  "Is its front feet supposed to come first?" she asked, unsure.

  Mark nodded. "One foot, then the other, then its head."

  "Can you come help me?" She then cut through the white part of the placenta to allow the foal to pass through. Her heart pounded, but she stayed steady, thankful for her years in the ER.

  Working with Mark, they managed to get one foot out. Delilah had another contraction, which pushed out the second foot. A few moments later, the head emerged. Mark and Abby stood back to let Delilah finish birthing the foal.

  The foal came out in a gush of fluid, and Abby let out a relieved breath that it was delivered finally. She cut the umbilical cord, checking to make sure the entire placenta had been expelled.

  Although she wasn't an expert in horse anatomy, she could make a fairly good estimate that the placenta had emerged completely and that Delilah was out of danger.

  "We should watch the foal for hypoxia," Abby explained.

  The foal sat on the stall floor, wet and rather pathetic-looking, but it seemed all right. Abby didn't know what to expect, though. She let out a relieved breath when the foal started to stand on its spindly legs.

  Mark looked like he was about to collapse. Abby led him out of the stall to sit on a bench so they both could catch their breaths.

  She felt tears prick her eyes, and the tears only increased at the look of relief and joy on Mark's face.

  "We did it," she said.

  Mark smiled. "You did it. You saved both of them. You kept your head when I couldn't."

  "I am a nurse." But she flushed a little at his praise.

  "No, you're—you're amazing." His eyes brimmed with emotion as he added, "You amaze me every day."

  Her breath hitched. The moment became almost unbearably intimate, and she felt like he'd laid her bare. It was such a strange thing, having helped a horse give birth, but she could only feel elation at saving two lives at once.

  The foal began to nurse after a few more attempts to stand, and Abby watched the pair with her heart expanding more than she'd thought possible.

  The vulnerability of the situation, the time of night, Mark's presence—all three things coalesced inside her and made her want to cry. Maybe it was because she felt lonely, or because she would never get to experience giving birth. Which seemed rather silly, comparing herself to a horse, but there it was.

  She wiped at her eyes, trying to keep Mark from noticing.

  He touched her arm. "What is it?"

  She shook her head, but the tears wouldn't stop. They dripped down her face without stopping.

  "Abby." He hugged her; this only made the crying worse. Burying her face in his chest, she let herself cry: for herself, for her future. For Mark. For the children she'd never have, fo
r the shame she'd carried.

  "Abby," he said again as he rubbed her back. "Talk to me. Aren't you always telling me to talk about things?"

  That made her laugh a little. "I can't believe I'm getting this emotional over a horse."

  "Tell me about it." His tone was wry enough that it helped her get control of herself.

  She wiped her eyes and her nose on her sleeve. She knew she looked terrible, but she was too tired to care. Mark still had his arms around her, which made her feel safer than she'd felt in a long time. When was the last time she'd felt like she could rely on someone else? Not for a while, she realized.

  "Did I ever tell you why I broke up with Derek?" she said.

  "You said he was an asshole."

  That made her smile again. "He was. Still is." She went to sit on the bench again, stretching her legs out in front of her. Mark sat next to her. "When we were dating, though, I found out I have PCOS."

  "What is that?"

  "Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Basically, it means my hormones are all out of sync, and there are lots of different side effects."

  Her throat dried up as she considered her next words. She wondered why she was saying anything at all. It was like draining an infection: at first it would hurt, but in the end, it would heal her.

  "One of the things that happens is infertility. My doctor said it would be highly unlikely I'd ever have children. I also have a weirdly shaped uterus. Go figure."

  Mark didn't respond, which made Abby antsy. Balling her fists, she waited for him to say something—anything. Even one of the usual useless platitudes. All things happen for a reason. Or, you won't know until you try. Or, there are worse things to happen. Be grateful that's all it is.

  "He wanted to end things because of this?" Mark said. "Because you can't have kids?"

  Humiliation coursed through her until she was afraid she'd start crying again.

  "Basically. I ended things because I knew we were over, but when I told him that, he said no one would want me because I wasn't a real woman."

  Mark swore, long and low, and Abby blinked in surprise. His face was flushed, and he looked like he could go on a murderous rampage.

  "What a piece of shit," he growled, "to say something like that to you." Cupping her face in his hands, he said, "You are a beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman, Abby Davison. The only reason he said that was because he was pissed that you dared to dump him. Don't you dare believe a word he said."

  She covered his hands with hers, hot tears in her eyes. "I think that's the most you've ever said at one time," she said.

  He looked a little embarrassed, but she squeezed his wrists. When a tear fell down her cheek, he brushed it away.

  "If he were here right now, I'd kill him." Mark kissed her forehead. "Having kids or not having kids doesn't make you less of a person. You're still Abby. Nobody can take that from you."

  His words were a balm to her soul, something she hadn't known she'd needed. She pulled his face down for a deep kiss that made him groan. But right as he was about to pull her close, they heard footsteps.

  "Mark? You in there?" An older man stepped into the barn. "How is she?"

  "Abby, this is Dr. Walker, the vet." Mark showed Dr. Walker to the stall, where both Delilah and her new foal snoozed.

  Abby wanted to go inside to let the men talk, but Mark wouldn't hear of it. He explained to Dr. Walker how Abby had saved the day, and how her quick thinking had saved both Delilah and her foal's lives. Dr. Walker nodded in approval before commending them both.

  "Lucky that you had a nurse here. Even if she's a nurse for humans." Dr. Walker winked at her.

  The vet gave them both instructions, telling them to watch the foal for any signs that she'd suffered hypoxia, or lack of oxygen due to the placenta detaching too early. He had a feeling she would be fine, considering that she was able to nurse right after she'd been born.

  "I'm going to go to sleep," Abby told Mark with a wide yawn as he said goodbye to the vet. "See you inside."

  Mark gave her a quick kiss and told her he'd be there soon.

  Mark heard water running. Elated, exhausted, yet strangely unwilling to go to sleep right now, he went to find Abby.

  He needed her with a desire that seemed unquenchable.

  The bathroom door was propped open, and he smiled seeing the cats coming in and out, their tails like question marks. He waited a second, listening for Abby, and he heard her sigh as she stepped into the tub.

  He opened the door, his entire body tightening when he saw her nude and glistening.

  "Oh!" she said in surprise before laughing a little. "I thought you were one of the cats."

  "You always take a bath with company?"

  She smiled, her eyes heating as she looked at him. "With feline company, yes. They love running water for some reason. But not usually with human company."

  "And what about now?"

  She pushed water around, her eyelashes fluttering. "I'd say that if you don't get in this tub with me, then I'll be very disappointed."

  Stripping out of his clothes in record speed, he stepped into the tub, which was just large enough for two people. Bubbles covered Abby's breasts, and he groaned when a pink nipple appeared.

  He maneuvered her so her back was to him. Kissing and licking the side of her neck, he tasted flowers and salt. Blood rushed to his cock; his pulse beat faster.

  Abby arched against him as he cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples until they were hard little peaks. She'd put her hair in a bun, although tendrils of it had fallen already. She looked like a sultry mermaid, all gleaming curves.

  She let out a groan when he nipped her shoulder before soothing the bite with his tongue.

  He had the desperate urge to show her that her ex's words were so patently untrue that they were absurd. He'd said them to hurt her, and Mark hated that it seemed to have worked. Abby had looked so devastated, an expression he never wanted to see on her face again.

  He said a grateful prayer that he had both arms and hands to touch her now. One hand kneaded her breast while the other drifted down her body, reveling in the silkiness of her skin.

  "How do you always smell so good?" he rumbled. Even after helping to deliver a horse, she still managed to smell good.

  She laughed. "Soap is an amazing invention."

  He pinched her ass cheek for that remark, which made her squeak. Turning in his arms, she kissed him, licking at his lips and begging for entrance. With her straddling him, her sex pressed against his cock. He could feel her heat, and he swore when she wiggled and arched.

  "Keep doing that and this will be over before it even began," he said.

  Abby grinned. "Are you saying that if I do this"—she gripped his cock, making his eyes roll back into his head—"that you'll lose control? I can't believe it."

  He grunted. Then he swore when she squeezed him and circled her thumb over the tip of his cock.

  In revenge, he delved through the petals of her sex, watching as a blush climbed up her cheeks. She continued to stroke him as he rubbed her clit and sank a finger inside her sheath. She bit her bottom lip, but she couldn't stop the sexy little sounds from emerging.

  Mark felt her tightening around his fingers. He pulled her closer and kissed her, almost violently, and she shuddered. He pressed her clit with his thumb right as she reached down to fondle his balls. They both moaned, the sounds echoing in the bathroom.

  He wanted her to come with his cock inside her, though. He pushed her hands away from his length, gritting his teeth so he didn't completely lose control.

  Abby gave him a warm smile as she kissed his sternum, right where his heart beat fast. That organ clenched with an emotion he didn't care to think about. All he would admit was that he needed to be inside her, to feel her tight heat gripping him until he lost himself.

  Abby seemed to know what they both needed. Placing her hands on his shoulders for leverage, she sank down onto his cock, taking him inch by excruciating inch. Mark tast
ed blood from biting his tongue; the feeling of her surrounding him, like a velvet glove, was almost too much. His entire body pulsed; spots raced across his vision.

  Abby raised herself up and back down again, taking him in slow strokes. He couldn't help but remember the first time they'd made love, how she'd ridden him like this. He needed more than this—to be not only inside her but over her. Claiming her.

  With one arm under her ass and one around her waist, he stepped out of the tub, both of them dripping water onto the floor. He didn't care. Laying her down on the plush rug, he then thrust all the way to the hilt inside her.

  "Mark," she cried out. She tilted her head back as he began to move.

  She lifted her legs and locked them around his back. With a grunt, he placed his weight on his arms, and although his left arm ached, he didn't care. He only cared about pounding inside Abby until they both lost their minds.

  She stroked his face as he rode her, their bodies slapping together. Steam seemed to rise from their very skin, and water droplets landed all over the tile and soaked the rug.

  Abby's eyes widened as she began to climax, and Mark drank in her face. Her body arched, the tendons of her neck visible, and when he bit her shoulder, she let out a shout.

  Her sheath milked him as she found her release. He gasped and right when his own climax was about to hit, he pulled out of her, coming on her belly.

  A few moments later, he barely kept himself from collapsing on top of her. Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath.

  Abby finally sat up, letting out a groan. "I think I'm too old to have sex on the floor," she said ruefully.

  He laughed. His arm ached and he was exhausted, but looking at Abby, all flushed and replete and beautiful, he didn't care.

  "Let's go to bed," he said.

  14

  Although Abby usually worked days, sometimes she had to work evenings. The day after Delilah gave birth, Abby spent it relaxing and watching the foal tottering around on her long legs. Although Abby and Mark had worried that she might have complications from the difficult birth, as far as they could tell, she was totally healthy.