Hades didn’t say anything.
“I guess on some level, I always thought what happened to me was somehow my fault. Including what happened to my father. So I looked for normal because I thought I’d hurt less people that way, that I wouldn’t hurt the man I fell in love with.” I paused, the words I hadn’t been brave enough to say thick on my tongue.
“But then I found out something. Rather, I found someone.” I licked my lips. “And I’ve come to learn that trouble, with the right man, is all I want out of my future.”
Still he said nothing, the sound of Sirius’s snores the only noise punctuating the silence. Hades was obviously waiting for me to say something else. For more.
I bit my lip as I realized I’d forgotten to mention one important thing. The most important thing.
“I want kids,” I announced. “Oh, do I want kids. I want to be there when they come home, make them snacks, help them with their homework. Fill this house with them.”
I smiled, thinking of dark-headed children running around our home. It wasn’t mine anymore, this place. I didn’t know when that had happened. We’d never had a conversation about it, it had simply become ours. Somehow, it was no longer the place where I’d killed Hades’s ex-girlfriend before she killed him. It wasn’t the place where I’d recovered from my own ex beating me. It wasn’t even the place Hades had his stab wounded stitched up. It was just ours. Hades had stayed despite my not needing ‘protecting’ anymore. The clothes that I washed then wordlessly put away in my closet. Our closet. He saw them in there because Hades saw everything, but he didn’t say a word.
He hadn’t needed to.
Because this was our future.
Or at least I had thought it was.
Hades’s arms had loosened around me after I told him this. I hadn’t realized it was because he was also thinking about dark-headed children running around the backyard. Not until he sat up and not so gently pushed me out of his arms and stood. My body chilled at the abrupt change in atmosphere, in temperature.
I stood, too, because I wasn’t fond of the distance between us.
“I don’t want kids,” Hades informed me, his eyes fixed on me, his expression communicating that I should not come any closer.
I blinked at him. At the words he’d spoken. The ones that were set in stone. Hades never said anything that he didn’t mean. And he meant this. In a very real and very heartbreaking kind of way. He meant this.
I was an idiot.
It wasn’t as if this came as a complete surprise, knowing the man Hades was. The life he’d led. The scars imprinted on his soul. He had never once hinted that he’d wanted to be a father, and before tonight, I’d never outright said I’d wanted to be a mother. Some stupid, pathetic part of me had just assumed that because he loved me, we were unbreakable. We’d gone through so much already, probably more than any couple on the planet—or any couple outside of the Sons of Templar, considering the romantic history of the club—I’d never imagined that something as ordinary as struggling over who did and didn’t want kids could ruin us.
Sure, the fact that he was an outlaw and lived a dangerous life had kind of hinted that his environment was not a kid-friendly one, but the club was warm, welcoming, a family. Even his president, who no doubt was deadly and badass, was a husband and a father. These men were a dichotomy. They had so much violence, danger and rage inside of them, but they had equal amounts of love. It was impossible not to see. The children in their lives were adored, were happy and protected. I’d been delighted and ecstatic, thinking about our dark-headed child having that exact same thing.
I’d been a fool.
“I want kids,” I reiterated. My words were not as firm and loud as his had been, but they were also set in stone. I wanted desperately to abandon that want, to sacrifice that for Hades, to tell him that he was enough. That he was more than enough. And he was. In so many ways. But I wouldn’t be able to stay with him without eventually resenting him. Without being overcome by grief when I looked at Hansen and Jagger and their children.
“I already knew that,” he sighed.
“You knew?” I spluttered.
He nodded.
Of course, he already knew. He knew everything about me without me having to utter a word. With maybe a couple of exceptions. Although I’d never verbalized that I wanted kids, I hadn’t exactly hidden that part of myself. He’d seen me with Macy and Hansen’s kids. With Jagger and Caroline’s baby. He’d probably seen the need on my face when I’d inhaled that beautiful baby scent while I was cradling her.