Slow Agony by V. J. Chambers Page B

up.
    I couldn’t answer. I was crying too hard.
    He got out of bed and made his way over to me. In the scant light that came in from the window, he was nothing more than a hulking shadow.
    He put a hand on my shoulder.
    I pulled away.
    “He
did
do something, didn’t he?” His voice was gruff.
    “No,” I said through my tears. “No, it’s not about that.”
    “Then what?” he asked.
    I scrubbed at my face with my hands.
    “Was the sex that bad?”
    I hiccupped, laughing a little. “No. No, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
    He drew me into his arms. “Nothing’s wrong with you, doll. Nothing at all.”
    I tried to let him comfort me, but I couldn’t. I pushed him away. “You don’t really think that.”
    “Of course I do.”
    “You think I’m selfish,” I said. “Did that change just because some psycho tied me up and cut me?”
    He didn’t say anything.
    “That’s what I thought,” I said.
    “God, I wish you wouldn’t have brought that up,” he said.
“Me too,” I said. I took a shuddering breath, trying to calm the last of my tears. “Let’s go to bed.” I went to the other bed, the one he hadn’t gotten out of, the one that was still made, and pulled aside the covers. I slid into it alone. The sheets were cool and smooth.
    He hadn’t moved. I could see him by the window, silhouetted against the moonlight. “We aren’t going to be able to fix this, are we?”
    I pulled the covers close. “I don’t know, Griffin.”
    “All I want to do is forget it happened.”
    “Do you think you can?” I rolled over so that my back was to him, but I could feel his presence behind me. “I thought that was what I wanted too. But now, now that I’ve touched you, I’m not sure that I can forget. It’s all there, Griffin. It’s in the way we made love. You were right. We’re broken.”
    He sat down on the bed. I felt the weight of him tug at the covers.
    I turned to look at him.
    “How far along would you have been now?” he asked.
    “Six months.”
    He stared at his hands.
    “I did it because you were gone,” I said.
    “Dammit, Leigh.”
    “It’s a good thing, Griffin. Can you imagine how much worse all of this would be if I was pregnant?”
    He flinched like I’d slapped him. “I would never have let him near you if—”
    “Right,” I said. “Because if I wasn’t a selfish slut, then you wouldn’t have left me. Weren’t those the words you used, Griffin?”
    “I’m sorry.” His voice was gravelly. “It’s only that it doesn’t make sense. If it really it was my baby, then why’d you get rid of it?”
    “Because you disappeared,” I said. “And... I thought we’d talked about it, anyway. I thought you knew that I didn’t want—”
    “I thought you were joking,” he said. “I didn’t think anyone could seriously terminate a pregnancy because she was worried about stretching out her stomach.”
    “I
was
joking about that,” I said. “That’s not why I did it.”
    He clenched his hands into fists. “You didn’t even ask me.”
    “You weren’t around to ask.”
    He got off the bed. “So, it’s my fault?”
    I pulled the covers tight against my chin, as if they could protect me. Yes, it was his fault. He’d blown up at me in January at the New Year’s party over nothing. He was convinced I’d kissed Clint, and then he ran away. And I didn’t see him for weeks.
    That was when I missed my period.
    By the time he came back, full of apologies, I’d already gotten rid of it.
    I had to. I
had
to.
    He’d left me all alone.
    “How can it be my fault when you’re the one who did it?”
    I didn’t know what to say. “It was your fault that you abandoned me.”
    “I wouldn’t have left if I’d known,” he said.
    “I didn’t know either.”
    “You were supposed to be on birth control. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
    “I was,” I said. “But I must have missed a few pills. I don’t know.”
    When he came back, I didn’t have to tell him