I wake to the sound of the shower running. Odd. Sin always bathes after coming home from tending to Fellowship business but never before telling me he’s back safe and sound.
“Sin?”
No response.
I get out of bed and go to the bathroom. “You didn’t wake me when you came in. Everything okay?”
“Yes.” It’s peculiar to hear him use that word. I’m accustomed to hearing “aye.”
“You sure?”
He doesn’t reply.
I peer around the corner of our walk-in shower. Sin’s hands are pressed against the tile wall. The cascade of water hits his shoulder and runs down his back. My eyes immediately go to an angry red laceration over the left side of his lower back. It’s been freshly sutured.
I’ll never get used to seeing my beloved wounded. I hate it. “I see Jamie had to stitch you up. What happened?”
He’s unmoving, staring at the floor. “Go back to bed, Bonny. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He doesn’t give me the answer I want but he’s acting peculiar. I think pushing him is the wrong thing to do. “Do you need anything?”
“No.”
I return to bed and wait. It’s at least thirty minutes before he slides in next to me. “Is everything okay?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking my husband.”
“I killed someone tonight.” His tone is devoid of emotion.
Sin has killed before. This isn’t news. “This time was different?”
“He was a boy,” he growls. “The Order had no business bringing a boy so young in on a raid.”
“How young?”
“Eighteen. Maybe nineteen. I don’t know but too young to die.”
He needs to talk about this. “How’d it happen?”
“He came at me from behind with a knife. I couldn’t see him. I only felt the burn of the blade in my back.” He punches his fist into the mattress.
“You shot him before you realized how young he was?”
“Aye. I would’ve roughed him up and sent him crying to his mum if I’d realized.”
“Baby. You didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t change the way I feel.”
It sucks. I know from experience. “I understand every emotion you’re experiencing right now. A strung-out, seventeen-year-old kid took shots at me during an undercover sting. He had every intention of killing me so he could steal the meth I had. It turned into kill or be killed, and I had no choice. He died in my arms before the ambulance arrived.”
“Tell me how to deal with this because I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“A shit ton of therapy. But it was my dad who got me through it. He’d been in my shoes so he understood the guilt associated with taking a young life. He reminded me often that I didn’t choose to kill that kid. I was forced. Just like you.” I move closer and put my head against Sin’s chest. “And I’m going to get you through this. Expect to hear over and over that this wasn’t your fault.”
“This gets so much worse, Bonny. The boy was Jason Grieve, the only son of Torrence Grieve, the leader of The Order.”
I don’t need to be fluent in Fellowship affairs to know The Order will see this as an act of war. “That means they’ll retaliate?”
“Hard. It’s only a matter of time.”
“What are the brothers saying?”
“They’re thrilled I killed The Order’s only potential replacement leader. They’re treating me like a fucking hero. But I in no way feel like a victor.” I hear his pain in the break of his voice.
This is shattering Sin. And it’s breaking my heart to watch.
Isobel told me there would be times like this. She said Sin would lose his way and he’d need me to act as his light in the darkness. So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll be whatever my husband needs.
“I love you.” I swaddle Sin with my body and kiss his forehead. I melt against him, becoming a tangible form of comfort wrapping around him in the darkness. “Let’s just lie like this and forget the world for as long as it’ll allow us.”
And that’s what we do. Lie silently until sleep claims us both.
* * *
It’s been a week since Sin killed Grieve’s son. They’ve not yet retaliated. But we know it’s coming and we’re prepared.
Sin’s coping. It was rough for a few days but I see him slowly returning to himself. I’m doing my job as his supporter. I occasionally catch him preoccupied and assume he’s replaying that night’s events in his head. I act quickly to distract him each time I think he could be recalling that night.
Today’s a good day for Sin. I’m glad because we have an important appointment.
We’re traveling to the Assisted Reproduction Centre in London for our first consultation. We fly over this afternoon and will see Dr. Paschall first thing in the morning.
I’m nervous, but not about the things we’ll hear from the physician. I’ve heard it all before. However, hearing the proof of my poor fertility prognosis from a top fertility specialist will be new for Sin. I’m afraid of his reaction.
I fear this hasn’t been real in his mind or perhaps he’s been thinking if he paid the right doctor enough money, I could be fixed. Once it has been confirmed that there’s a very real problem, one that is likely irreparable, it could all come crashing down. For both of us.
I’m packing when Sin comes into our bedroom. He prowls up behind me and snakes his arms around my waist, pressing his lips to the side of my neck. “Hello, Mrs. Breckenridge.”
“Hello, Mr. Breckenridge. I was just about to choose your clothes for our trip since you’ve not yet done it. Would you like a suit, a suit, or … a suit?”
“Ahh. My wife, the comedian.”
I twist in his arms. “That’s all you ever wear.”
“Because I have an image to maintain. How authoritative do you think I’d appear wearing jeans and sneakers?”
I suppose it might be difficult for the brothers to see him as a leader in casual wear. “I see your point, but it’s a little weird to never see you in anything else. You should have a little variety in your wardrobe.”
“You forget I don’t wear a suit to bed.”
True. I adore the low-riding sleep pants, even if they don’t typically stay on for long. “Don’t get me wrong. I love seeing you in your fancy suits. You look sexy and powerful but it would be nice if you occasionally wore something different. Don’t you think you’d get tired of seeing me in a dress every day?”
“Never.” He slides his hand between my legs. “A dress would make for easy access to this at all times. I think I’d like it very much.”
I roll my eyes and shove his hand away. “No time for that, I’m afraid. We have to leave for the airport soon and there’s still packing to finish.”
“Bring some sexies.” He puts his mouth to my ear and growls. “And prepare to be had often while we’re away.”
* * *
The consultation with Dr. Paschall begins as expected—with discussing my medical history, followed by an ultrasound for a current assessment of all my girly parts. Nice and pleasant as always.
We’re waiting in his office to hear his opinion on how to proceed in pursuing the famil
y we both agree we’ll want someday. I can’t stop looking at the photo on the wall to my right. The use of bokeh initially caught my attention. Now I’m staring at the subject. A beautiful little brown-eyed boy in a blue and cream sweater with matching beanie.
“No matter the verdict, I love you.” Sin steals my attention when he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “We’ll get through it even if the news isn’t promising. I need you to know that before we find out.”
I’ve been concerned about the place his head would be, but now I’m not. “I believe you.”
“Harry couldn’t have loved you more if you’d been his biological child. I’m certain that’s how we’ll feel if that’s the way the cards fall.”
“I know. I could easily love and adore an adopted child. That wouldn’t be an issue for me.”
That’s as far as our adoption discussion gets before Dr. Paschall comes into the office. He wastes no time in getting down to business, beginning with a report on the condition of my remaining ovary.
He retrieves the ultrasound picture and moves his pen over an area on the screen. I already know what I’m looking at; this isn’t my first rodeo. “The lining of your uterus looks good so I don’t foresee any implantation problems.”
He skips to another view and moves the pen over an area of white with dark polka dots. It resembles a grainy, black-and-white photo of a piece of Honeycomb cereal. “Your ovary is enlarged and these dark areas are fluid-filled cysts.”
Even I can tell they’re larger and more numerous than my last scan. That means the disease process is worsening. Not great.
“Have you been experiencing pain in your right lower abdomen?”
Every day. “Yes, but it’s minor compared to what I had with my left ovary several years ago.”
No way I’ll ever forget that kind of pain. It was so horrible that I begged my doctor to remove the thing without any hesitation or concern for my fertility.
Sin asked why I hadn’t mentioned the pain to him. I proposed several vague reasons but I wasn’t being honest. The truth is I didn’t want to acknowledge the pain. To do so was to admit that the cysts were growing, bringing me another step closer to losing my ovary. And fertility. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t happening.