Page 92 of Unruly

She shakes her head. “But one day you’re going to want more. That’s what happens.”

“What more is there?” I ask, genuinely confused.

She finally looks at me, and there’s something tired in her eyes. “Kids?”

I go still for a second. Then I ask carefully, “Is this because of my comment in the truck? About telling our kids the story one day?”

“No, not really,” she says, a little sharper than before. “It’s not just that … it’s so much more.”

“Then what is it? Because you’re all I want, Halle. I’m not asking you for anything else.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and her jaw tightens like she’s trying to hold something in. When she speaks again, her voice cracks just a little.

“I can’t have kids, Cash.”

I blink. “Okay? What do you mean?”

She swallows hard. “Like … I physically can’t carry a child.”

I stare at her, trying to process what she’s telling me.

It takes me a second.

She keeps going before I can respond, her voice getting smaller but steadier, like she’s forcing herself to get it all out. “I had an early, second trimester miscarriage. There were complications with the procedure afterwards, and with all the blood loss, they had to do a full hysterectomy. I’m thirty-two years old and I will never, ever be able to carry a child. It’s something that I wanted—want more than anything. So you can’t just decide that this is something that doesn’t matter.”

“Okay. I understand now,” I say.

She laughs again, but it’s brittle. “No, you don’t. I can’t do the one thing a woman’s body is supposed to do. You think you know what that means, but you don’t. Not really. Not for someone your age. Not for someone who comes from a family like yours. I can’t give you what you’re supposed to want, and I won’t let you wake up one day and resent me the way I already resent myself.”

I stay quiet, letting her talk. She needs to get this out.

She keeps going, voice cracking now. “I used to sit in that empty nursery we never finished and cry because I could already see them—little hands, the pitter-patter of feet on hardwood floors, messy hair and bedtime stories. The things that breathe life into a home. And now that’s just … gone. I’m not whole anymore. I’m broken in a way that can’t be fixed. I can’t see kids anymore without seeing pieces of myself in them because I will always wonder what that would be like. I have room in my heart for someone I had never even met, but I knew that they were a part of me, even if it was only for a short while. And I can’t ask you to sign up for that. I won’t.”

She wipes at her eyes, angry at the tears. “I already had one man who made me feel like less because of it. I’m not doing it again.”

I reach over and take her hand. She lets me.

“Halle,” I say, voice low. “Look at me.”

She does, eyes glassy and defensive.

“I don’t care, and I mean it. The idea that women are only supposed to have kids is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Women are capable, beautiful creatures who do so much more than that. Any man who puts that thought in your head deserves to be killed.”

She stares at me, stunned.

I squeeze her hand. “I’ve never sat around picturing myself as a dad—never had that dream. Rhett and Dawson are gonna have big families. There’ll be more than enough little Thornwoods running around to keep everyone happy. The only thing I need is you. Just you. The rest of it doesn’t matter to me.”

She shakes her head, like she doesn’t believe me. “You say that now⁠—”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. You think I don’t know what I want? I’ve spent my whole life doing whatever the fuck I felt like. This is the first time I’ve ever wanted something enough to fight for it—to plan for it. To be nervous about asking for it.” I squeeze her hand. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You lost a baby, you left a marriage that was killing you, you came home and started over from nothing. You’re rebuilding your whole life and you’re doing it without asking anyone to carry you. That’s not broken, that’s fucking incredible.”

I take a breath, because the next part feels huge.

“I love you, Halle. I’m in love with you. And I don’t need kids to feel like I have a family. I just need you.”

Tears are sliding down her cheeks now, but she doesn’t wipe them away. “I can’t make any decisions until the divorce is final. I’m still legally married, Cash. I can’t … I can’t start something with you while that’s still hanging over me. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

I nod slowly. I hate it, but I get it.