Page 82 of Hendrix

“I’m starting to get that,” I murmured.

“But you’re pregnant now. In an ideal world, it would be my baby, but I’m happy you’re getting what you want because it means I can finally get what I want too.”

“And what is it you want?” I asked.

His eyes held mine. “You.”

“Are you saying you want me because I’m pregnant?” I challenged.

“No, baby,” he rumbled. “I want you because I love you more than life, but the fact you’re pregnant means I can finally have you.”

I ignored the warmth that prickled through me at his mention of love. “So what happens if I want another baby? You gonna farm me out to someone else who can knock me up?”

“I never farmed you out,” he argued. “I let you go so you could get everythin’ you wanted, but to answer your question, I dunno. I’ve not thought that far ahead. Maybe we could look at adoption. There’s a lotta kids in the world who need a home.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “So why couldn’t we have done that three years ago?”

“You wanted your own kid,” he muttered.

“No, Jamie,” I cut out. “I’m trying to understand where you’re coming from, really I am. What happened to you must’ve had a psychological impact, so I’m trying my best to keep my shit together and not slap you upside the head. But all I wanted three years ago was you. Having your baby would’ve been my honor, but having you would’ve been my life.”

His body jerked at my words.

“Baby,” he whispered.

I leaned toward him. “I get where your head must’ve been back then, but if you’d just told me, we could’ve got through it. Why did you keep it a secret?”

He took a bite of his taco and chewed, allowing himself some time to think of his reply. “It’s not the kinda thing a man broadcasts.”

“I had what I thought was a pregnancy scare, honey. That was the perfect time to broadcast it, at least to me.”

“Not easy tellin’ someone you’re not the virile man they thought you were,” he muttered.

“You were the man I loved,” I declared softly. “The fact you were injured in the military and it stopped you from biologically fathering a child would’ve just made me love you more. Except you didn’t give me the chance to show you that, and it hurts you didn’t trust me. It also hurts you didn’t feel safe enough to show me what you thought was a vulnerability but what I would’ve thought was a strength.”

“First time you’ve said you loved me,” he said wistfully.

I let out a resigned snort. “I’m starting to think we should’ve both been more open with each other. I thought back then that professing my love would’ve scared you away, so I tried to show you instead. Now I’m thinking I should’ve shouted it from the rooftops because maybe you needed that to feel secure enough to trust me.”

“I did trust you,” he assured me. “I knew you’d never leave me over something like that. That’s why I left you. I wanted you to have what you wanted from life, even if it was with somebody else. I knew you’d never make that move, so I had to do it for ya.”

“It was my decision to make,” I insisted.

“I know, baby, but I am who I am, and I would’ve never given you the choice. Even now, seeing how upset you are about what I did, I still wouldn’t change it because you got what you needed, and we’re still here.”

My heart clenched at his words. “You can’t make decisions for me. You decided I should stay here, so you locked me in a room for days. You decided I wanted a baby more than I wanted you, so you left me. Can’t you see how fucked up that is? What happens when you decide something else for me? Will I lose you again?” My hands went to my stomach. “Will he?”

“I won’t hurt you or him,” Hendrix insisted.

“I don’t believe you,” I whispered.

“Then I guess I’ll have to prove it.” His eyes dropped to my food, and he nodded toward it. “Eat your tacos, babe. They’re gettin’ cold.”

I picked one up and unwrapped it, my thoughts still stuck on Hendrix’s revelation.

My chest ached, and my heart felt as if it were breaking all over again, not for me, but for everything he’d been through.

I knew what had happened must’ve affected Hendrix’s confidence. He was a man’s man and the fact he couldn’t father a child would have made him feel inadequate.

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