Worth the Wait (McKinney_Walker #1)(62)

“And after Hannah was home?” he asked softly.

She opened her eyes and looked deep into his. “What good would it have done? How would it have helped to add to your pain?”

“So it was your pain.”

“Yes.” It still hurt so badly, like a burn on her heart that wouldn’t heal. Those feelings, the pain, and the loss were all tangled up in losing Nick until she couldn’t seem to separate the two. Couldn’t stop herself from wondering if it would have made a difference. If a baby would have brought Nick new life and a new hope for the future. If a baby would have helped Hannah heal. But she knew it could have just as easily brought Nick more guilt.

“In a way, I think it made it easier. Not having our shared happiness and plans and excitement be one more thing to mourn.”

“Mia.” He caught her against his chest, and then she let the tears fall. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry, too,” she repeated, crying harder. “I kept thinking when things got better, I’d tell you and we could be sad together then maybe try again.”

“But they never did.”

“No.” Things never got better.

With Nick’s face buried in her hair, they held each other and took this time to mourn together.





IN THE DARK, NICK watched her sleep, just able to make out her features. But he didn’t need light—everything about her was burned into his memory. He traced the shape of her mouth and brows, unaware of time passing as he ran his fingers through her hair.

He’d held her for a long time after their talk, her body spent but still not totally relaxed. Every few minutes, lighting flashed, followed by the low rumble of distant thunder. After a while, he got up and returned with a cold washcloth for her eyes. She lay on her side, facing him, and he wiped the cloth over her face.

Now she finally slept. He traced the lines of her face. Her long lashes curled thick and dark with remnants of tears. Even now, with her hand lightly curled under her chin in sleep, her skin was still flushed. So beautiful. Not wanting to wake her but unable to stop himself, he brushed a light kiss over her forehead. They’d made a baby together. It was still sinking in, his mind still trying to grasp the enormity of that. Her stomach that lay flush against his side had held a life, even if for a short time.

She’d stayed with him longer than he deserved, taken more hits than anyone should have. Especially her.

He thought he was the only one who knew what it was like to lay your head down on the pillow at night and try to sleep when someone you loved was missing. It was a certain kind of hell, and he’d been sure no one could understand it. But she’d been there right beside him. She’d felt it, too.

He tried to think back, searching for a day she’d come home to him after losing their baby. Had there been something in her eyes if he’d taken the time to look? She couldn’t have hidden it from him if he’d given her half a glance. She was right. He didn’t see her any more. He had stopped seeing her.

He tightened his arms around her, buried his face in her hair, and spent the rest of the night asking himself how in God’s name he’d stopped seeing his Mia.





* * *





THE CLOUD-COVERED SKY OF morning cast a dull light over Mia’s kitchen. Rain fell, soft and steady, soaking the ground and pooling on the sidewalk. They came awake together, made love again, slowly, silently.

Now she stood at the counter waiting on the coffee while Nick toasted bagels a few feet away. She poured coffee into his cup. He placed her bagel on a plate. They moved around each other, the falling rain covering the silence. She wasn’t sure how she felt about them having a quiet morning in her kitchen. She might regret falling apart on him yesterday, opening herself up to him, but knew she couldn’t have stopped it. She thought of that quicksand and knew she better find something to grab onto and quick.

He met her eyes over the rim of his coffee cup. “What did you do after you left the house that day?”

Mia took a second before she answered. They’d covered a lot of ground last night, but his question just proved there was still more to cover. She wasn’t excited to go over what she thought of as her heartbroken years.

“I took a few days, then I went back to Boston. I went home. Neither of my parents were well, so it was good. I regrouped, went back to school for a few classes. My mom had a stroke shortly after my return. I couldn’t work full time and take care of her, but I needed to do something, so it was good. Later, I was able to get into a psych rotation. It worked.”

“But you said you weren’t a psychiatrist.”