Page 89 of Dash

“Don’t apologise.”

“I didn’t mean to get sick.”

“It’s okay.” I rub her back and sit her back on the couch.

She drops her head into her hands, little whimpers raising my blood pressure.

We need backup. Safety.

I don’t want to lose my connection with her, so I keep one hand on her knee and fire off a message to Riot with the other.

Dayna isn’t a fragile person, but the way she’s hunched over her stomach, her eyes heavy, is killing me.

I get a message back almost immediately, short, to the point: On the way.

Some of that tightness in my chest loosens at that. If something happens to me, my brothers will protect her.

My thumb brushes the inside of her knee, and she lifts her lashes just a fraction. It’s not enough. I need her eyes.

“Babe… look at me.”

She doesn’t. “I’m sorry. I’m just freaking out. We got shot at.”

I hate how scared she sounds, hate that I’m the reason for that. “You should never have been caught up in that. I never want my shit to touch you.”

Her eyes flare wide, and this time, she does look at me. “Wait, that wasn’t random? They were shootingat you?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll never be in that position again, I fucking promise you that.” I stare at her stomach, like there’s a ticking time bomb under her shirt. “As soon as it’s safe, we’ll go to the hospital and get you and… and the… baby checked out.”

Her breath hitches. “I’m sorry you found out this way. I didn’t mean to blurt it.”

“How long have you known?”

Her gaze slides away, as if she doesn’t want to answer. “Not long, but long enough that I should have said something before now.”

“I’m not judging, Dayna, but I need you to explain why you were so scared to tell me you’re pregnant. Did I make you feel unsafe?”

“No. Oh, Dash, no.” A ripple of pain works across her face. “This is my fault.”

“I’m pretty sure I played a part in this, babe.”

She shakes her head. “I messed up. I forgot to get my shot. I thought we were protected, but all this time we’ve been havingsex, we were rolling the conception dice.” She swipes at a tear on her face, like she’s angry for letting herself feel. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It wasn’t planned. It was just me and my squirrel brain firing on a completely different frequency to everything else.”

My thumb stills on her knee for a second before I keep stroking her.

Maybe I should be pissed she forgot her shot. Maybe if she was anyone else, I might be, but Dayna is carrying my baby and, fuck, the image of her holding our kid does something to me.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened. It’s done.”

She lifts her head and finally looks at me. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m not expecting you to be involved when it was my mistake.”

She might as well have stabbed me in my fucking chest.

For a second, it’s not Dayna in front of me. It’s another life, another woman with my child inside her, telling me I don’t have the right to be part of something that’s mine.

It’s another chance to be a father taken from me without asking.

Powerless. Voiceless.

---