He gives a hard, decisive shake no. “The problem isn’t Samson. It’s me. I fail those who rely on me. And the consequences…” His jaw goes tight and his sight distant like he’s seeing something far beyond the stable. After a moment he refocuses. “I thought with this place… If I could just control enough factors, if I could train them correctly from the start…”
He looks around at the stable and for the briefest moment I think I see longing enter his eyes before they go dead again. “But no. First Hellfire. Now Sugar. I’ll always fail them.” Then he looks at me. “God forbid anyone entrust a human to me. It was bad enough that I already endangered you and the baby when I cut out after Hellfire.” He shakes his head. “Leaving you to do all the work, you could have lost the baby, but did I even consider that? No.” His eyes are darting everywhere. Unfocused. “You’ll leave with my father tonight.”
My mouth drops open. “I will not.” I laugh out a disbelieving scoff. “You’re insane if you think I’ll—”
Suddenly he’s whipped the gun out again, only this time he’s pointing it at his own head.
“Xavier!” I scream.
He unclicks the safety and cocks it. “I’m having a hard-enough time believing I deserve to be in this world at all. I should have died that day in Afghanistan. Those men were killed right in front of me because of something I caused. It should have been me.”
“Xavier, stop it! Put the gun down! We’re going to have a baby,” I cry. Tears pour down my cheeks. Oh God, how can he be saying these things? How can the man who’s stronger than anyone else I know believe this of himself?
“I can’t hurt anyone else,” he whispers, desperation entering his voice. For a brief moment, I can see the man I love breaking through this deadened façade he’s trying to portray. “Especially not you or our baby.”
“Give me the gun, Xavier.” I try to swallow my tears. “We had a fucked-up start, okay? I’m not going to romanticize it. You bringing me here like you did was majorly fucked up.”
He nods like I’m making his point for him. I shake my head vehemently. “But getting to know you, to love you—it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I can see in the way his eyes shutter and his face closes down that I’m losing him again so I press on.
“I always thought that submission meant weakness. I grew up thinking the only way I’d make it in the world was on my own because no one was ever going to help me, not even my own father. I never believed I could belong anywhere. I had to be strong on my own terms, always, 24/7. I could never let my guard down for even a second.”
I take a step toward him when I see what looks like the slightest bit of hesitation on his face. Am I getting through to him? Oh God, please let him hear me. “Do you know how exhausting living that way was? I didn’t even realize it until you started breaking down my walls and showing me a different way.” I have to make him understand. He has to understand. “You showed me how lonely and empty a life is without real connection. We’re wired to connect. But that’s only possible if we open ourselves up to trust. And God,” tears course down my cheeks, “that was so goddamned terrifying, I fought you tooth and nail every step of the way. Making myself vulnerable enough to trust you? To trust anyone? After what my mother did to me? Or even Dad, how he pushed me away my whole life, even though he thought it was for my own good? You gave me the gift of learning how to trust. And now I’ll be able to pass that on to our son or daughter.”
“Don’t come any closer,” Xavier says, blinking rapidly. His hand holding the gun starts to shake so badly I’m terrified he’ll accidentally pull the trigger. “You’re stronger than me. You always were. I knew it from the start.” His voice is strained, like every word is gutting him. At least I’m not talking to a zombie anymore.
I shake my head, taking another step toward him. “I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you’ve been hurting. We can work through this. You have to trust me now.”
“Stay back!” he yells, his eyes wide and neck so taut with tension all the veins are standing out. “I hurt everyone around me. I swore I’d protect you! And I will. Even if it’s from myself.”
Oh my God— “No! Okay, give me the gun and I’ll go.” Something is seriously wrong with Xavier. And it’s bigger than me or logic or maybe even love, a poison that’s been warping his perception of himself and the world ever since what happened in Afghanistan. Right now the only priority is to get that gun away from him. “I’ll go with your father. We’ll leave. Okay? Just give me the gun. I can’t leave without knowing you’re going to be okay.”