Page 71 of Louder Than Words

“No, it’s okay,” I say softly.

I look down to the girls, who are both eating away quietly for once. They’re not listening, or paying any sort of attention.I can’t help but reach out and smooth down Lydia’s hair before looking back up to Desmond.

“I, uh, got hurt a few months ago. Needed surgery,” I say, quiet enough the girls won’t hear. “They said having another would be… hard.”

Desmond’s eyes go wide. “Jesus. I’msosorry. I didn’t know.”

Jax shakes his head from beside Charlotte. “It’s okay, mate. You couldn’t have known.”

The noise around us picks up again as everyone returns to their plates.

But me?

I feel like I’m drowning.Again.

Just like every single time I’m reminded of the one thing I can’t give Jax.

I watch Jax wipe gravy from Charlotte’s chin, and I blink back tears.

God… he’s going to leave.

It’s so obvious watching him interact with the girls how much he’s made to be a dad. How much he deserves more than anythingtobesomeone’s dad.

And I can’t give him that.

I can’t give him the one thing he deserves more than anyone I know.

Then I feel a hand graze over my shoulder, and a tear slips free before I can stop it.

I wipe it away and look over, seeing Jax over Charlotte’s head.

“You okay?” he mouths.

I nod, even though there’s no point. I know he can see the tears shining in my eyes since I can feel them.

Then he’s on his feet, holding his hand out for me to take.

I slide my hand in his and without a word, he guides me out of the kitchen. But on the way out I don’t miss him clapping Desmond on the back, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

We barely make it outside before he pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me like a shield.

And I break.

Every tear I’ve held back. Every sob I’ve swallowed. It all comes pouring out—ugly, raw, snotty, everything.

He smooths my hair down, rocking me side to side while he shushes softly in my ear, telling me how sorryheis when I’m the one who should be apologizing.

I press my hands flat against the warm wool of his flannel, pulling back enough to look up at him through my tears.

“You know I wouldn’t blame you if you left, right?”

His eyebrows pinch together so tight they nearly touch. “What did you just say?”

I shrug, my voice cracking. “Come on, Jax. You know I’ll never be able to give you what you want.”

“What I want?” He cups my face, firm but still gentle. “You’ve already given me that, Al.” He pulls me back into his arms, kissing the side of my head. “You’ve given meeverything.”

“Everything except a baby,” I whisper.