Page 37 of Louder Than Words

The second the bathroom door swings shut behind me, I rush into the nearest stall, slam it closed, and lock it. Then I brace both hands against the metal door, trying not to fall apart.

Buttryingis the keyword here.

And the other word that’s missing?Failing.

My knees give out before I even register it, my body hitting the cold, hard tile. My stomach twists, and I clutch it like holding myself together might stop everything else from falling apart. I don’t even know if I need to cry, puke, or maybe both.

Even though Jax and I agreed now’s not the time, it still freaking hurts. It kills me, listening to the complaints. Every single time. Knowing I might never feel another flutter. Never spend another night wide awake, drowning in the lava burning at the base of my esophagus. Never get to hold a brand-new life in my arms and trace every soft little feature, comparing each one to Jax’s.

But that also brings one thing into focus—

Something I would never take for granted. Something I would never, ever complain about.

The fact that I already have two little girls who mean more to me than anything. The way their smiles light up every room, no matter how dark it feels. No matter how aloneIfeel. They are my life.

And I think that’s where I need to be right now.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and fumble for my phone. My fingers shake as I open my messages and tap on Jax’s name.

Can you come now… please?

17

Allie

The ride home was the quietest I think we’ve ever had. Not a single word was spoken between the three of us. Jax kept his eyes on the road, Ana sat quietly in the back, and then there was me, wishing I could start my day over and not go to the diner at all. Four hours of silence—no talking, no music—just the occasional yawn and the sound of the freeway rushing by through the cracked windows.

Jax kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting protectively on my thigh, squeezing gently every so often like a quiet check-in.

Ana, being Ana, knew I was upset. She didn’t say a word either—especially not after watching me bolt for the exit, tossing a quick, “Call me when you’re ready to go,” over my shoulder. Four seconds later, she downed the rest of her coffee and climbed into the car without a word.

As for Nora? She was already waiting for Gareth to pick her up, so it’s not like we left her stranded.

Honestly, I’ve never been more grateful not to be the one driving her home. There’s only so much negativity I can handle at once. And if I laid everything on the table with what’s going on in my life right now? It’s negative. Negative. Negative. Then one little positive. And that one positive barely flickers against all the bad trying to snuff it out.

Jax’s hand flexes on my thigh again—another quiet check-in.

I glance over.

He flashes one of those smiles that always grounds me better than gravity ever could.

That’s when I realize: we’re sitting in my driveway. The car is still running. Ana’s already inside, and Jax and I have just been sitting here in silence.

God, he must think I’m losing my mind.

I lean my head against the seat and offer a small, hopeful smile. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t mean to be so quiet.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Don’t be sorry, love. I get it.”

I almost believe him. But as far as I know, he has no idea. Notreallyanyway. Which isn’t to say he’s not going through things, too. Creating something from your soul, putting your heart on a page, and then trusting strangers with it? That takes a kind of courage I don’t think I couldeverhave.

And honestly, I admire him for that.

But the thought of losing your children? On top of never being able to have another, and smiling through your best friend’s constant complaints about a pregnancy you’d give anything to experience again?

He hasnoidea. And I can’t fault him for that.

So instead, I lean over the center console and press my lips softly to his, feeling his rough stubble tickle just above my lip.