Wolf (Evil Dead MC 4)

She watched his hand flex at his side. If he’d been another kind of man, she may have expected a backhanded slap. But Wolf would never hurt her, not that way at least. The hurt he inflicted was always emotional and probably unintentional if she was being truthful.

“You couldn’t even tell me? Couldn’t have said something before you walked out the fucking door?”

“What would it have mattered, Wolf? You can’t commit to anything longer than a few weeks or months. You wouldn’t have wanted any of that. We both know that.”

“That would have been my choice to make!” he roared. “Not yours. You took the choice away from me.”

She took a step back. She’d seen him pissed before, but never like this. She’d really hurt him, honest-to-God hurt him.

“You went off and had my baby, and never fucking thought to tell me? Where is it? You leave our kid with your mom? Your sister? Huh?”

She shook her head and turned back to the window. But he was having none of that. She felt his hand clamp around her upper arm to yank her back around. His face glaring down at hers.

“Where’s my baby, Crystal?” he roared.

She shook her head again, whisp

ering softly. “There’s no baby, Wolf.”

“What?” He stared down at her with a frown and a look that told her he was trying to keep up with a storyline that had one too many twists and turns. And then, an anguished, grief-stricken look on his face, he asked, “You didn’t want it? You didn’t want my baby?”

“Wolf—”

“Christ, tell me you didn’t kill our baby?”

She shook her head, more tears returning.

He ran his hand through his hair, and then moving toward her suddenly, he grabbed her forearms, holding her scarred wrists up in front of her eyes. “You did, didn’t you? And then you tried to kill yourself.”

“No, Wolf.”

“You do this?” He shook her scars in her face.

She nodded. She couldn’t deny that. She had. “Yes.”

He shoved her away as if she were poison.

“Oh, my God.” His voice was tormented, like she’d never heard it before.

“Wolf—”

“Oh, my God.”

She slapped him then. Hauled back and let him have it with a resounding crack that echoed in the small room. And then she screamed at his stunned face. “I didn’t kill your baby. I lost your baby. I lost our baby. I lost my baby!” She emphasized the words by jabbing her finger in her chest. “Mine.”

He stared at her, frowning for a long moment and then whispered, “You wanted it?”

She nodded. “Yes, I wanted it, you big, stupid oaf.”

He slowly ran his hand over his mouth, studying her. His eyes dropped to her wrists, and then as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders and it was just too much, he collapsed down on the bed, dropping his head into his hands.

She stared at him a long moment, and then she saw his shoulders shaking with a slight tremor. His face was downcast, but she knew he was weeping. For their unborn child? Perhaps for everything they’d lost?

It killed her to see him like this. Wolf, who was so strong, now devastated, broken. She found her feet moving toward him, drawn like a magnet, needing to give him comfort. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she put her hands on his wrists, attempting to pull his hands from his face. He fought her on it only for a moment before he let her win. She saw his eyes, glassy with tears, and then she was sliding her arms around his neck.

He latched onto her like a drowning man, hugging her to him tightly, pulling her between his knees, her chest flush with his. She felt his face bury into her neck as he shook.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” he murmured into her ear.