Page 110 of Trusting You
“Do you want to stop talking about it?”
I shake my head. “You deserve to know. And now’s as good a time as any. A newborn is…taxing. They scream a lot, and you don’t know why. Could be gas, colic, a bad day, just pissed off, you don’t know. And with Paige having so much difficulty breastfeeding, that added a ton of pressure on her.” I pause to swallow, staring at the folds in the sheets in the small space between us. “It went downhill, fast. Paige cried a lot. I’d go into her room where Lily would be asleep in her bassinet, and Paige would be curled up and sobbing on her bed. I’d get her some tea, ice water, rub her back, simply sit with her or lie with her, take shifts with Lily, but it wasn’t enough. She went on autopilot. Feed the baby, rock the baby, put the baby down, go to her bed and cry. I think…” I ponder this a moment, wondering how much I should say. “I think she had postpartum depression. And I was working on a way to tell her to get help, that it didn’t mean she was a bad mom, but I wasn’t sure if this was the way all new moms were—especially single ones. By the time I summoned up enough courage…Paige decided to do it herself. Go to the doctor, see about her problems with breastfeeding, and then speak to the doctor about talking to a therapist, maybe. She knew.” I shake my head, saying softly, “She knew something was wrong, and not just physically.”
“I wish—I know you two didn’t want to tell me, didn’t think I was that kind of guy, but I wish you would’ve come to me then.”
I nod. “We were so naïve. So brutally tired and scared. There’s only about a two-year gap between then and now, but I feel like I’ve aged years.”
Locke finds my upper arm and squeezes gently. “Your year has been condensed into two weeks for me.” He grins, and I can’t help but smile back.
“So, we go to the doctor,” I say on a tired sigh, determined to finish. “And that’s when she finds the lump. That’s the exact moment every purpose, every distraction of ours, funnels into one thing: cancer. And whether or not she had it. Turned out, she did. Stage four.”
Locke’s gaze shutters, as if he’s traveling back into his own time. I’m about to nudge him, to ask what’s wrong, but he beats me to it. “I can’t say anything to make it better, but I’m so sorry.”
I press my lips together. “Do we…can we stop here? I can tell you more, but I need a break.”
“Of course. Abso-fucking-lutely.” He finds a dangling strand of my hair and plays with it for a moment. “How about we enjoy the now for a minute? Before we start overthinking the situation and Lily starts screaming and our morning is changed to an egg and banana breakfast.”
“Our toothless dragon’s favorite,” I say, but lay against his shoulder, stroking his stomach.
“I love that baby, don’t get me wrong,” Locke says. “She’s become my everything. But right now, all I want to think of is you.”
My breath catches. I lift my head. “You mean that?”
He tucks a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. “I think about you, Carter. All the damn time. Last night was…”
“Special,” I whisper.
“Yeah.” He smiles again, stroking a thumb across my cheek.
I’m close to basking in the glow of this morning and believing everything he’s saying. But I’m naïve to think I’m any different from any other girl he’s had in this bed. Maybe he’s said the same to them before he low-key takes a shower and waits for them to leave. Maybe it’s all he knows because he’s never tried to look deeper into anyone’s soul since he’s too busy gifting out orgasms like candy.
My time here is limited, and that could be exactly why I’m naked on this mattress with him.
“Want me to put on the coffee?” I sit up, taking the sheets with me, suddenly modest.
“Didn’t I say we should enjoy this quiet time together?” He folds an arm to the back of his head, stretching his torso. My mouth waters as his muscles ripple.
I glance at the clock on his nightstand. “Six o’clock. My body timer refuses to let me lie in bed longer than that. I should get Lily’s bottle ready, her food…”
“Carter,” Locke says gently.
“…she’ll be up any second. We really should get up, Locke.”
“We don’t have to.”
“But I do,” I say, and his brows furrow. “Look, I’m giving you an out, okay? Just take it already.”
“I have no idea what you’re getting at.”
“I’m different from your usual, and—”
“My usual?”
“Yes. You can’t kick me out on the down low, because one, I live here, and two, there’s a baby in the other room I’ve been helping you take care of. Thus, I’m slipping out of this bed, going to the kitchen, and giving you time to make this less awkward and we can go about our day—”
“Wait a sec—”
“Let me do this, Locke.” My arms go limp at my sides.