Gunner sucked in a deep breath and wondered about his own child. The child that was so small now, barely more than a dream, growing inside Sydney.
Girl? Boy? Would she have Sydney’s smile? His eyes?
“Looks like you’re going to be a father.”
His hands were clenched into fists. He would be a father, but he would not be like his old man. He would not abandon his child.
Never.
* * *
SYDNEY’S EYES FLEW open as the last of the nightmare ripped through her mind. “Gunner!” His name tore from her, even though she was more asleep than awake. But she could still see the nightmare. The flames coming for her, trapping her.
And the baby.
Gunner burst into the room, flipping on the lights. He had a gun in his hand and his body was tight with tension. “Sydney?” He searched the room, looking for a threat.
But there was no threat here.
Only a fading nightmare.
She sucked in a deep breath. What was happening to her? “Sorry. Bad dream.” He’d been in the dream. He’d died trying to get her out of that fire. She’d watched him burn.
Then she’d been alone with the flames.
Her hands fisted around the covers.
Gunner took a steadying breath of his own, then carefully put the gun down on the nightstand. “Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine now.”
He stared at her, then gave a slow nod. “Aren’t you always?”
Sydney wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.
“I’m...sorry, for earlier,” he said gruffly.
Her head tilted back. “You mean when you got all quiet and looked like you might run from the room?”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t.”
Okay, he hadn’t fled. His face had just gotten even harder, even darker.
“You know...my father abandoned me and Slade.”
Yes, she knew.
“My mother died when I was two, so it was just me and my grandfather for a long time. I used to...used to see the other kids with their dads, and I was so damn jealous.”
She held her body perfectly still. Gunner didn’t talk about his past much. Neither did Slade. Slade had just told her once that his childhood had been a waste, that he’d never go back to a life like that.
She hadn’t pushed him for more. If his past was painful—if Gunner’s past was painful—then she didn’t want to be the one stirring up old wounds.
“Gunner, you don’t have to tell me—”
“Yes, I do. You’re having my baby. You deserve to know everything about me.” He came toward the bed, hesitated, then sat down beside her, immediately taking up so much space and making her feel hyperaware of him.
What else was new, though? She always seemed to be hyperaware of him.