Life After Taylah - Page 30/86

“We should be a good family now,” I bark.

She straightens. “Just admit it, Nathaniel, instead of dancing around the truth. You don’t want to give me a baby because you think I’m a bad mother. Admit it. Or are you too scared to be honest with your wife?”

I thought I just did admit it, but fine, if she wants it straight that’s how I’ll give it to her.

“You want honesty?” I say, my voice steely. “Then no, I don’t think you should have another child. I spend most of my days putting Macy into the care of our friends because you’d rather drink. I come home and some nights she isn’t fed, she’s wet in her bed, or fuck, she’s holding a knife at the sink because you’re passed out.”

“Let it go,” she screams. “That was once!”

“Once is once too many,” I snap. “She could have hurt herself very badly.”

“Why are you even here, Nate?” she growls, clenching her fists. “It’s clear you don’t want to be. Why don’t you just leave?”

“Because I made a commitment, and because I love my daughter.”

“Only her,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You only love her.”

“I loved you too, Lena. Once I thought you were the fuckin’ sunshine until you started drinking.”

“And I’m trying to change!” she yells, shoving at my chest.

“Maybe you are, but it takes more than a few days to truly make a difference. You need help.”

“You’re a selfish, self-righteous pig, Nathaniel.”

“Why?” I growl, getting in her face. “Because I care about how my daughter’s future ends up?”

“Get out!” she screams, shoving me harder. “Get the fuck out.”

“With pleasure,” I bellow, turning and storming out the door.

Fuck this.

Fuck it all.

~*~*~*~

AVERY

Bang, bang, bang.

I hear someone pounding on my door and I roll in my bed to see it’s 1.45 a.m. Who the hell would be at my door at this time? It’s not Jacob; he’s still out of town for a few days and besides, he has a key. I get out of bed and run a hand through my hair. My eyes are bleary as I pad down the halls, nearing closer to the pounding sound. I get to the door and peek through the peephole.

Nate.

I quickly unlock it and swing it open only to face a wild, panting Nate. He’s angry; no . . . no . . . it’s worse than anger. He looks vicious. His fists are clenched, his breathing is deep, his jaw is tight and the expression on his face could kill.

“Nate, what’s wrong?” I ask.

He shoves past me, storming into my house.

“Nate,” I say, shutting the door. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“That fucking bitch!” he thunders, pacing the living room.

“Do you want to sit down and tell me why you’re here?”

He turns to me, his eyes wild with something I’ve never seen before. He storms over to me, wraps a hand around the back of my head and pulls me close.

“A baby, she says,” he growls. “She can’t even fuckin’ look after the one we have. Selfish, trapped, no way out.”

He’s not making any sense.

“Nate, talk to me,” I whisper, so close to his face that I can feel his warm breath against my ear.

“You’re in my head,” he hisses. “In my fucking head. She’s not in my head. She wants a baby, a fucking baby. I don’t want a baby. I’m trying to be the good fucking guy but you’re in my head.”

I swallow and try to take a step back but he won’t let me go.

“You’re taken,” he rasps. “I’m taken. But you’re still fucking there. Why are you there, Avery? Why the fuck are you consuming me?”

Oh, my.

“Nate,” I breathe.

“So fucking perfect, so fucking beautiful, and yet another man is fucking you. He’s fucking you because you’re his . . .”

“Nate,” I try again.

“And I fucking hate it. I shouldn’t hate it, but I do. I fucking hate it.”

“Nate.”

“And my wife, she wants a fucking baby. A baby. A fucking baby.”

Okay. He’s not focusing right now.

“Nate,” I say, my voice a little harder. “Look at me.”

He looks at me; boy, does he look at me.

“Marriage is for life. It’s what you sign up for. It’s not meant to be easy, Avery, but it’s sure as shit not meant to feel like this. I lay there some nights,” he murmurs, “and I wonder if it would be easier if I just . . . died.”

“Hey,” I say, lifting my hands and cupping his cheeks. “You can’t say things like that. You have a little girl.”

“Don’t you think she’s the only reason I’m still fighting?” he whispers, his eyes so hurt, so broken that my heart breaks a little for him. “Do you have any idea the pain that lays heavy on my heart when I go to sleep at night? I’m depressed. I fucking hate it there but I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard . . .”

“You’re a good man, Nate. A good, strong man. You can get through this.”

“How can I?” he breathes. “When you’re always on my fuckin’ mind? Do you know what you’re doing to me, Dancer? You’re makin’ me see that there’s better out there. You’re makin’ me feel again . . . and it’s been so long since I’ve felt . . .”