Page 107 of Brutal Knight

A wife who can’t give me a son is no better than a whore.

“When I fell in love with you, I was afraid. I was afraid of being rejected by you,” I finally say. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I was so afraid that this was going to be the thing that finally turned you away.”

“Never.”

His hands are on my face. He tilts my chin until I’m looking at him, looking into his brown eyes. He’s serious. His gaze is steady when he looks at me, and his voice is just as even.

“I meant what I said. You are my family,” he says slowly. “We don’t need kids to make that true. And there’s nothing that could make me stop loving you.”

“I love you so much, Connor,” I whisper, a rush of emotion filling me.

He’s been through everything with me. He’s known me as an addict, as a prisoner, as a woman who can’t give him children. He knows everything about me now, everything that matters.

And he still hasn’t run away.

He helps me out of the shower, one hand firm on my waist, and pulls a towel around me. I watch him and think about how wonderful of a father he’d be, how amazing he would be to our child. I think about how much he loves me and wonder how on earth I managed to find what I was so sure I’d never be able to have.

Once we’re dressed, he takes my hand and leads me to his office. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but it doesn’t matter. I’m warm from the shower and his care, and I trust him.

He pulls a drawer open and pulls out an album, leather and small. When he opens it, there’s a photo of him with a woman and man I don’t recognize.

“My birth parents,” he says, tilting the album toward me. “I don’t have a lot of theirs, but I have pictures. I’m glad we took so many.”

I take the album carefully and turn it in my hands. I smile a little, running a hand over the image. “You look like your father, but you have your mother’s eyes.”

“People would tell me that a lot. I used to hate it as a kid, but now, it just makes me think of her. I’m glad I have some things of theirs that will never leave me.”

He reaches over and flips the pages. I watch time unfold, watch Connor go from a young boy of four or five to one a bit older than that. There are other people in the pictures too. The O’Reilly family, Callum and Siobhan, and their boys.

“They were good to me,” he says softly. “They cared for me like I was one of theirs. There was never a moment that I felt unwanted. They were my parents just as much as my own were.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I let out a quiet breath.

“Family isn’t just blood. It’s whatever you choose for it to be,” Connor continues. “My adoptive family had my back, even though we weren’t blood. And now the O’Reillys are going to have your back too. Just like I always will.”

I turn to look at him, trying not to spill over into tears again. I can’t even speak, too overwhelmed by emotion.

He looks into my eyes, his expression serious. “When the time comes to have children, we can adopt. I was adopted. I love the family that made me a part of their own—and we can give that same thing to another child.”

I nod, the movement shaky, and Connor’s gaze softens. He raises a hand to my face, his touch gentle. “We can give someone a home. Someone who needs it. And I have no doubt you’ll be an amazing mother.”

His words mean everything. They’re more than just comforting, more than just empty promises.

They give me hope. They make me feel like maybe there is a possibility, maybe there is a way I can have the life I’ve always wanted, with him.

I step into his arms and it feels natural, like it’s always been this way. He holds me, and I fit perfectly against him. When he kisses me, I feel like I’ve memorized the warmth of his mouth and the taste of his lips. It’s perfect.

Then a moment passes and something shifts—the kiss is deeper, hotter. Urgent. I can feel a familiar tendril of need curling in my chest. I know we’re both spinning dangerously close to losing control.

My skin feels flushed and hot, my heart racing faster. I can feel my breath come in shorter bursts. My entire body burns with anticipation.

After everything that’s happened, I’m tempted to give in. I want to feel him, want to have his hands on my body. I want to remember exactly how much he loves me, and I want to show him that I love him just as much.

But I know he’s injured, and we’re both exhausted. So I pull back instead, although I can’t bring myself to step away more than an inch. I don’t want to leave his arms at all.

“You need to lie down,” I finally say, and it takes all my strength to say it. “You were shot. You need to rest and heal before… well…”

Connor groans, and I grin as I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him again. I let it linger for a second, a careful promise.

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