It was all building so fast that it was inevitable that when she broke, it all spilled out so fast that she could barely keep up.
‘I’ve always known that I couldn’t have children. At least, I couldn’t have biological children. I was twelve when I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma.’ She lifted one hand, almost subconsciously, to the top of her left arm, just by the shoulder.
* * *
He could barely stop himself from hauling her into his arms and holding her, as though that might somehow erase all that he instinctively knew she must have been through. But her delivery was robotic, and clipped—her way of protecting herself—so he made himself keep his distance.
‘Because it was caught early,’ she continued, her gaze still not quite meeting his, ‘I had a round of chemo, surgery to remove the affected portion of bone and a bone graft with a metal prosthetic and another round of chemo.’
‘Kat,’ he breathed.
‘By the time I was eighteen my body had gone through menopause. Back then, although they’d already begun working with cryopreservation, it wasn’t done as routinely as now. Now they can freeze a section of ovary from a baby barely a few months old, complete with all its eggs, and reimplant it during adulthood. But back then it wasn’t an option for me.’
‘I see,’ he mused, his mind searching for the right words. The words he knew Kat—his Kat—would want to hear. ‘So you think that I wouldn’t want to be with you if you couldn’t give me a child? A biological child?’
‘You said it yourself.’
She shrugged. But he could see how much it cost her to do so.
‘I want you. I want a family with you. And if we adopt, like you were going to adopt Carrie, that won’t make that child any less ours.’
‘Why would that be enough for you?’ she cried, her palms twisting around each other like she was trying to contain a decade and a half’s worth of emotions.
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ he countered as evenly as he could.
‘Because...because...’ She pulled her hands to her chest then rubbed at her face, before staring at him with something approaching despair. ‘Because it can’t be.’
Logan didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he cupped her face and finally made her meet his gaze.
‘Why not, Kat?’
She stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Then she shook her head.
‘Please, Logan, just leave.’
A plea? Or a demand? He wasn’t sure even Kat knew.
‘What was his name?’ Logan demanded suddenly. ‘What did he do to you?’
She blinked once. Twice.
‘His name was Kirk,’ she managed slowly, and he got the impression she was testing every word before it came out. ‘He was my fiancé.’
Logan hated the guy already.
‘When?’
‘When did we split up, do you mean?’ Her lips pulled into a taut line. ‘Seven years ago.’
His brain whirred.
‘Before you started fostering?’
She nodded stiffly.
‘What happened?’
He waited a beat as the silence stretched out between them. Then another beat.