Page 113 of Dash

He goes to a rack of baby grows, the tiny garments so fucking cute, it hurts my chest, and for a moment, I forget we’re in the crosshairs.

I trail my fingers over the fabric of one with lions on. “This is so adorable.”

He doesn’t answer, instead pressing close to me as someone threads between the displays towards us. Then he’s in front of me, a wall keeping the danger away. He’s not even subtle about it.

The man shrinks back, clutching the stuffed toy he’s holding like a shield, and darts in the other direction.

“Are you going to interrogate the stuffed animals next?” I quip but without my usual humour. He’s cracking, and I don’t like it.

“He got too close” is his gruff reply.

“He was holding a stuffed giraffe, Dash. What do you think he’s going to do with that?”

He rolls his shoulders, as if easing the tension out of them.

He’s going to burn himself out trying to hold everything together, and I can’t bear it. I put the teddy I picked up without even realising back on the shelf and turn to him.

“You know what? We don’t have to do this today. Let’s just go home and we can crawl under the blankets in front of the TV. I’ll eat my weight in snacks, pretending I’m eating for two and not just being a greedy bitch, while you complain about my choice of movies.”

He reaches over me to grab the tiniest baby grow. “We’re not going home.”

“I don’t mind. In fact, the idea of merging with the couch sounds utterly divine.”

He stares at the garment before lifting his eyes to me. “You deserve this, Dayna. To be excited about the fact you’re pregnant and expecting your first child.” I swallow the lump in my throat.“I want you to walk around a baby store holding tiny fucking booties and ridiculously overpriced clothes they’ll wear for a week. I want you to experience the things normal expectant mothers do.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, easing some of the pressure.

“I want to have these moments too, babe, but you’re going to have an aneurysm. And the baby stuff isn’t going anywhere. It’ll still be here in a few months’ time, when nobody’s trying to put bullets in us.” I lower my voice to a whisper on the last part.

But it’s the wrong thing to say. He tenses so savagely that I grab his face, stroking my fingers over his cheeks to calm him before the storm can rise inside him.

“I mean it, Rhys. We can come another time. We have months before the baby comes. Plenty of time to do these kinds of things.” I don’t know why I use his real name there, but it has the desired effect. He calms.

His kiss is gentle, his hand wrapped around my nape like he always does when he’s trying to feel close to me or when he’s trying to anchor himself.

“I’m honestly scared for your stress levels,” I say.

“I’d be like this even if there wasn’t a threat. Because you and the family we’re building is the most important fucking thing to me.” He kisses me again and rests his hand on my stomach.

Even with all the shit going on, he still chooses to let me breathe even while it breaks him.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want you so tense that you’re going to need a chiropractor to fix the knots in your neck.”

He gets that look in his eyes, the one that I know means he’s about to be sweet in a way that’s going to destroy me. “You spent too long locked in a cage, Dayna. I’m not putting you in another. You want to live, so we live. You want to buy baby clothes, I makeit safe for you to do that. I don’t want you to live in a world where you’re afraid to do basic things.”

My stomach flips at his words, and I try to think of something sarcastic to say, somethingmeto say, but I can’t. Instead, I turn to the rail, picking up the first thing in front of me. It’s a pair of baby socks, and when I see the price, I almost choke on my tongue.

“I should have kept the second job. Might’ve been able to afford one sock then.”

I put them back on the rail, noticing the price of everything on this display stand is insane.

How am I supposed to pay for any of this? Even the plain baby grows are expensive.

“I know they’re handmade, but were they woven from mystical Himalayan alpacas?” I grumble.

I’m not even out of my first trimester and already I feel like a fucking failure.

He picks up the socks, handing them to me. “You want the socks, get the socks.”

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