Page 83 of Beautiful Chaos
She didn’t say those exact words, but I see them in the harshness in her gaze, in the hatred she can’t hide, the way her body suddenly tightens.
Even though I want to give her what she wants, I won’t let my wife’s hands get dirty.
“No, baby,” I say. “This isn’t for you. Let me take care of it.”
Her nostrils flare as she presses her lips together. “I will always blame myself for not saving our children, Hunter, regardless of what you say. I was there. I watched as those men touched them in vile ways. Their screams of fear and pain still burn my ears. They begged me to save them, and I couldn’t do a fucking thing.” Tears glisten in her eyes, and a new wave falls down her cheeks when she squeezes them shut. Determination mixes with the wetness when she opens them again. “You won’t take this from me,” she says, her eyes sparking a lightning blue. “It is my right as their mother. A mother who failed them when they needed me the most. A mother who was forced to sit through the brutality of their deaths. A mother they looked at,” a sob slides from between her lips, “as their throats were slit.”
A fresh round of anger ignites, and I drop my hands from her cheeks to ball them into fists.
“Please, Hunter,” Cat whispers.
I agree only because I know how important this is to her, and if it helps with her healing, then all the better. Aside from that, she’s right. Shedoesdeserve to watch as the men responsible for tearing our world apart are put down.
“Okay.”
Her tongue darts out, licking the tears from her lips. “Thank you.”
We don’t say anything else after that, despite the fact that there’s a lot to be said. She may or may not remember the letter she received about Henry being released, but this needs to be addressed. Her life is in danger and she needs to be prepared as much as possible.
But as she falls against my chest, her face going to my throat, I hold the words back for the time being.
Right now, the only thing I need to do is hold my wife.
* * *
An hour later,I stroke Cat’s back as she lays curled up to my side. Her head is on my chest and she hasn’t moved or spoken for the last fifteen minutes, but I know she’s still awake.
I dislike the quietness. It means she’s thinking too much, and with everything that’s happened over the last few hours, it’s impossible to know where her mind is.
I’m shocked as shit that she’s handling things as well as she is. I’ve lived in fear for nearly five years. Fear of what would happen should Cat remember the past. What it would do to her mentally. It just goes to show just how fucking strong she is.
Before I can utter a word to get her to open up to me, she moves from my chest. Sitting up, she draws her knees to her chest and wraps an arm around her legs as she stares at me. Her eyes, once they meet mine, aren’t the same. Behind the bright blue color lies darkness and pain.
“I’m sorry,” she says, filling the silence in the room.
Her finger covers my mouth as I try to reprimand her for once again apologizing for something that is not her fault.
“No. Let me speak.”
Despite knowing I won’t like what she says, I nod anyway. Her arm loops back around her legs and she rests her chin on her knees. She looks so young and innocent in the pose.
“I’m sorry that I hid them away,” she continues, her voice low and filled with so much sadness that my chest physically hurts from it. “I’m so sorry, Hunter. I not only kept them in the dark from myself, I forced you to do the same. Our babies,” a tear drips down her cheek, “deserve so much more than what I’ve given them for the last five years. They should have never been forgotten. They should be remembered and talked about and cherished every single day.”
“Cat.” The one word comes out hoarse, my chest tight. “Baby.”
When I reach out for her, she tightens her arms around her legs and shakes her head. My hand falls to the bed, my jaw clenching.
“For so long, I was lost in my own grief, unable to cope with what had happened, afraid to even try. It was selfish and wrong of me to do that. You were hurting too, but instead of grieving with you, I blocked it out.” She sweeps away the tears flowing down her cheeks. “Realizing that, I’m still unsure if I can handle it. Even right now, I feel grief seeping into my bones, weighing me down, trying to pull me back into oblivion. I don’t want that, but I’m so scared I won’t be able to fight it.” Her lips pinch together and her eyes squeeze shut. “Please,” she whispers brokenly, eviscerating my heart, “please don’t let me go. Please don’t let me do that to our children again. Don’t let me forget them.”
Whether she wants to be there or not, the choice is taken out of her hands when I grab the tops of her arms and haul her onto my lap. Her legs go around my waist, her arms around my shoulders, and she buries her face in my neck. I wrap myself around her just as tightly as she’s wrapped around me. Still, it’s not enough. If she crawled inside of me, she still wouldn’t be close enough.
“I will never let you go, my sweet Cat,” I say against her ear. “You want our children’s memories to stay with you, I’ll make sure they do. Every single day, we’ll talk about them. The pictures will be replaced and rehung. I’ll never let you forget them again.”
Her sobs become heavier, her body wracked by tremors, and I hold her through them until she gradually calms.
She looks exhausted when she lifts her head. Today has been a hell of a day, but it could have turned out so much worse.
“Henry, one of the boys, was released from prison not long ago,” I say, closely watching her face.