27. Nic

27

NIC

I stand frozen in the kitchen. Bella’s words gut me to the core. Not just because of the pain I hear in her voice. No. It’s because I’m the cause of her anguish.

She's right. I've been treating her like a child, someone to control and dismiss, when she's proven herself capable and loyal time and again.

My chest tightens as I think back to the cabin, how she nursed me back to health when she could have left me to die. How she's adapted to this life on the run without complaint. Until now. Until I made her feel worthless and alone.

The anger I felt over her call to Ava seems petty now. Yes, it was risky, but she didn't betray our location or my plans. She just needed a connection, someone to talk to while I left her trapped here, day after day.

I scrape my hands over my face as memories of our time together flood back. The easy conversations, her laugh, the way she makes this safehouse feel like a home. I've been pushing her away, telling myself it's for her own good, that she deserves better than this life. Better than me. But in doing so, I've made her feel like she's nothing more than a responsibility, a burden.

I leave the kitchen to hunt her down. I find her in the extra bedroom. She’s been crying, but she does her damnedest to hide it. She doesn’t want me to see her pain, and that makes me feel even shittier.

"I'm sorry. "I've been an asshole." I’ve already said this, but I don’t know what else to say. How can I make this right?

She doesn't respond, just stares at me like I’m a monster. Like her father. Like my father.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things I should have said, should have done differently. I could blame it on the pressure of taking down my father, on keeping us both alive. But the truth is, I'm terrified of how much I need her, how much it will destroy me to lose her.

I take a step toward her, wanting to pull her into my arms, to promise I'll do better. But I stop myself, knowing I haven't earned that right. Not yet. Not until I prove with actions, not just words, that she matters. That she's not just someone to protect but someone to cherish.

I gather my courage and move closer. "I've been treating you like a prisoner instead of a partner. Like someone who needs controlling rather than respecting."

She inhales a breath but stays quiet.

"The truth is, you've proven yourself capable from the moment we met. You dealt with our driver’s attempt on our lives. You thought quickly, coming up with the cabin as a place for us to hide. You drove us there. You saved my life. You've adapted to everything I've thrown at you without complaint." I kneel down in front of her, ready to grovel. "And instead of appreciating that, I've been acting like a dictator."

"Yes, you have."

She’s still pissed. Maybe she’ll never forgive me. But hearing her speak feels like a gift at this moment.

"I was scared when I found out about the call to Ava. Not because I don't trust you, but because the thought of anything happening to you…" All this, I’m doing it for her. I’d told her that at the cabin, but the plans to kill my father have overtaken that. I can see why she feels my drive is my father’s death when in fact, it’s to keep her safe. To keep everyone I love safe.

Fuck… love? I feel a little sick.

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I understand why you were angry. But being locked away, it's suffocating."

"I know. And I'm sorry. You deserve better than that." I reach for her hand, relieved when she doesn't pull away. "You're right about being able to help. I've been so focused on protecting you that I forgot you're strong enough to be part of this."

Her smile is wan now, acknowledging my words but still carrying the hurt of my shutting her out, of my harsh words.

I reach up and cup her face. “I’ll do better.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I smile. There’s the woman I’ve come to love. Yes… love.

“I’d like to start by kissing you.”

She arches a brow. “Why?”

Because I love you . “Because that’s how this works. Kiss and make up, right?” I don’t actually know. This is all new territory for me.

“Why have you been so distant?”

I look down. "I've been fighting this, fighting us, because I thought it was safer. Smarter."

"And now?"

"Now I realize I’m only hurting us both. Bella, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. I only know that I hate hurting you. I hate not talking with you. I hate not having you next to me in bed when I fall asleep or wake up in the morning.”

Her breath catches at my confession. “I don’t like that either.”

I cup her face in my hands. “Let me make it up to you.”

“With kissing?”

“With kissing. With touching. With making you feel good. Seen. Important.”

She watches me for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I guess I’m expecting something a bit more poignant.

“You can kiss and touch me.”

I laugh and push her back on the bed, wanting her to feel cherished, not just desired. I take my time, rediscovering the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her silky skin. When she sighs and goes pliant, relief fills me. It’s another thing that amazes me about her. She lets go of the past, opens herself to the now. I do my best to do the same.

My hands roam her warm body, touching her in the ways I know bring her pleasure. I kiss her, long and deep. And when I can’t wait any longer, I sheath my dick and take her hands in mine, holding them over her head as I look down into her gorgeous gray eyes, staring up at me with trust and desire.

“Bella.” I slip inside her, inch by inch, feeling her envelop me, watching her response as I fill her.

She sighs and arches her head back. I kiss her neck, sucking slightly, not caring whether I leave a mark.

Then I move, still slow, still savoring every sensation.

All my life, physical intimacy has been about release, about taking what I want. But this, the way Bella sighs my name and opens to me, it's different. Sacred.

For the first time, I understand what it means to truly connect with someone, body and soul. To give yourself completely to another person, trusting them with not just your pleasure but your heart. This isn’t sex. This is making love.

She gasps, and her pussy clamps around me, pulsing. I grit back my own orgasm to watch as pleasure washes through her. She’s so fucking beautiful. Too good for me.

“Nic.” My name escapes on her lips, and it sends me to the heavens. I figure this is the only time I’ll be there, as I know my end game is hell. She’s my heaven on earth.

Afterward, I hold her close, marveling at how perfectly she fits in my arms. "Stay with me," I whisper into her hair. I want to ask for forever, but I don't mention that. I’ll settle for her remaining by my side in this bed tonight.

I wake with a start, my hand reaching across the empty sheets beside me. Cold. My chest tightens as I scan the dim room.

Nothing.

The memory of last night floods back, our argument, my apology, making love. I'd fallen asleep with her in my arms, finally at peace. But now she's gone.

I sit up and listen. The silence of the house makes me nervous. Did I say too much? Not enough? What if she decided she's had enough and left? Did she move to another room to get away from me, not ready to give me her full forgiveness?

I throw back the covers, needing to know where she is. As I pass the bathroom, I hear retching and my heart rate spikes. I don’t knock. I open the door and find Bella hunched over the toilet, her dark hair falling around her face.

"Bella?" I kneel beside her, gathering her hair back. Her skin feels clammy under my touch.

She waves me off weakly. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

I grab a washcloth, wet it with cool water, and press it to the back of her neck. She leans into my touch but keeps her eyes closed.

"This isn't fine," I say.

"It's nothing. Just a weird stomach bug or something." She sits back on her heels, taking slow breaths. "It comes and goes."

Comes and goes? “How long has this been happening?”

She shrugs. "A week, maybe? It's not a big deal."

She needs a doctor, but I can't imagine how we'll manage that without exposing ourselves.

"I told you, it's just a bug." She stands and rinses her mouth at the sink. "It'll pass."

I study her in the mirror, noting the shadows under her eyes, the slight pallor to her skin.

I don’t know much about women’s bodies, but I do know what getting sick in the morning could mean. I think about our first time together, when the condom slipped as I withdrew.

"Bella, could you be pregnant?"

She freezes, water dripping down her chin. "What? No. It's just a stomach bug."

“Do you have a fever? Other symptoms of a bug?” It’s odd, this feeling I have. It’s like hope. Hope that she’s pregnant. What does that mean?

“I suppose I’m tired, but that’s boredom and… well, feeling alone.” She dries her face. “Besides, you use a condom.”

I nod. “One time, it slipped when we were done. I didn’t think any cum got out, but it could have.”

“Just that once?”

I can’t tell whether the thought of being pregnant freaks her out or not.

"Once is all it takes, and it explains the tiredness and morning sickness.”

"You're being ridiculous. It's stress. Everything that's happening with your father, being cooped up here…" But I can see the doubt in her expression now, the way her hand unconsciously drifts to her stomach.

"When was your last period?" I ask as I calculate the time from when we first made love at the cabin.

Bella's brow furrows as she counts back. The color drains from her face. "Oh, God."

"How late are you?"

She grips the counter, her knuckles white. "A week or so. I thought it was stress. Everything's been so crazy.”

Her voice trails off as the implications sink in. I should be panicking. A baby is the last thing we need right now. Not with my father hunting us. Not when I'm planning to kill him.

But emotion stirs in my chest. The thought of Bella carrying my child awakens something primal and protective in me. Not fear or dread, but… hope.

I picture a little girl with Bella's gray eyes and fierce spirit. Or a son I could raise to be better than me, better than my father.

I stare at Bella's reflection in the mirror, my mind reeling. She's so young, with dreams of traveling the world, getting an education, all the things she couldn't do under her father's thumb. Things she won’t be able to do if she's carrying my child.

I pull Bella into my arms. "We need to be sure," I murmur into her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. "I'll get a test."

She nods against my chest. I want to ask her what she’s feeling, thinking, but I’m afraid I won’t like the answer. A baby ends her dreams of freedom, the freedom I’d promised her. She'd be tied to me, to this life, forever.

Even so, as I picture Bella with our child, I can't deny how right it feels, how much I want it, even though I know I should be hoping the test comes back negative.