Chapter Sixty Wade

CHAPTER SIXTY

Wade

T he drive back to the ranch is quiet. Ivy sits, staring down at the ultrasound photos in her lap, and I see it in her eyes as she moves them back to the window and the sunny countryside.

It's halfway home when she finally speaks. "I think maybe Brad had his doctor lie to me," she says quietly.

I breathe out a sigh and reach across the seat to hold her hand .

I fucking think so too . The caregiver in me wants to shelter her from this. In fact, the caregiver in me wants to drive to fucking Bellingham Ranch and demand answers even if that means beating them out of him, but that's not what Ivy needs right now. Right now, she needs me to be in control while I support her.

"It could be a possibility," I admit. "And even though Dr. Miller didn't say so, I can't shake the feeling she's confused by the whole thing too. The word she used about your ultrasound was textbook ," I say honestly.

She looks up, nods, then stares out her window into the fields beyond.

"He knew I was thinking of leaving. It all makes sense to me now. He didn't want kids and he knew I did. He only would've done it for control. It's how he abused me. Control ," she says again quietly, and I could kill this motherfucker for doing this to her.

"If I'm on the pill, and all goes the way it should, he gets what he wants and I don't get pregnant. Looking back, he was even cautious when we were … together. I wonder now if that was his way of being extra careful. It would just be a bonus for him if I thought I couldn't get pregnant, if I thought there was something wrong with me—it takes away my hope, then I'm that much more grateful to him for sticking by me when he can make me feel … less."

"I never want to hear that from you, even in a hypothetical setting, okay? Ivy, even if you weren't able to carry a baby to term, you would never be less. You know that, right?"

She smiles and pats her hand over mine.

"I do know that now. I didn't then."

My jaw flexes as I contemplate my next words.

"You know, if you say the word, I will drive there and get the answers you're looking for, happily." So fucking happily .

"I know," she answers simply, keeping her gaze out the window.

"But you don't need me to do that," I tell her firmly.

She looks at me for a split second.

"I don't? I just don't know how to handle this realization," she says, looking wounded. The pain I see in her eyes as she lets three years, the possibility of being lied to and feeling like she could never carry a child register with her—that look on her face, it almost destroys me.

I pull the truck over to the side of the highway and unbuckle my seatbelt, getting as close as I can to her. I grip the sides of her face, and kiss her softly on her perfect lips.

"No, sweetheart, you don't need me to handle this for you because you are strong enough to tell me what you need in order to find peace with this, and I'll do whatever that is. If you never want to talk about it again, we'll never talk about it again. If you decide you want to somehow prove this is something Brad did, I will spend every last goddamn cent I have and every resource I can muster helping you do it."

"I know." She nods as a tear slides down her cheek.

"You said to me once, you don't need me to come to your rescue, and you were right. You don't, I don't need to be your hero, you're already your own fucking hero," I tell her as I kiss her again and place my hand over my child, letting the life radiate against my palm. "You left, you took control of your life, it led you here, to me, right where you're supposed to be," I remind her.

"I love you, Wade." She sniffs, looks down at my hand on her stomach and then back out the window. "We can't go back, only forward. Take me home."

I kiss her lips again and marvel at her fucking strength. I'm amazed by it. I'm in fucking awe.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. I'm at your mercy."

As I bring her into my arms, into her place, and whisper to her how much I love her, I know that nothing matters but this. Her and I and our little bean.

Ivy is right—we can't go back, only forward, and you know what? There isn't a person on earth I'd rather leave the world behind with.