Piece of My Heart (Fostering Love 4)

Whenever I’d thought about the past month, one thing had popped into my head. I hadn’t planned for any of this. I hadn’t been prepared to be pregnant. I hadn’t been prepared to get into a car accident. I hadn’t been prepared to lose the baby whom I’d just begun to accept and want. If I’d only known it was coming, then maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so badly.

I knew it didn’t make sense, but during those first few days after the accident, it was all I could think about. It was how I’d rationalized it in my head—that something horrible had happened because I’d deviated from my planned route. If only I hadn’t done that, the rest of it wouldn’t have happened.

It didn’t help that it seemed to be affecting me far worse than it did Alex. I couldn’t understand why I was so upset when he wasn’t. He’d been the one who was excited for the baby, and I’d been the one left brokenhearted when that baby didn’t exist anymore. It didn’t seem fair.

But I’d had no idea about his mother. My heart ached when I remembered the bleak look in his eyes when he’d told me about her.

I rubbed my thumb against Alex’s jeans as we flew down the freeway, unable to open my mouth and apologize to him.

I turned a little and leaned against the seat sideways, closing my eyes as Alex drove. It had taken me a long time to become comfortable in a car again. It was only when it rained that I felt the old panic rise up inside me.

As we pulled into the motel, remorse made my throat tight. I shouldn’t have yelled at Alex about where we were staying, especially since I didn’t actually care where we slept.

“I’ll grab a key,” Alex said, pulling under the little archway near the office. “I’ll be right back.”

I took a deep breath once he was gone. I hurt. Every place inside of me hurt. My weariness was bone deep and exhausting.

Our room turned out to be a lot nicer than the one we’d stayed in the night before, and I glanced around in relief as Alex carried our bags over to the dresser and set them on top. There were a king-sized bed, a table with a couple of chairs, and a flat-screen TV that was bolted to the wall.

“You can take the bathroom first,” Alex said quietly, gesturing toward it.

We were both so raw from our conversation earlier that I didn’t have the courage to bring it up again. Instead, I hurried to get my toiletries and closed myself in the small room. The tears didn’t hit until I was hidden away in the shower.

* * *

“I don’t know what to do,” Alex said quietly after we’d turned off the lights and crawled into the huge bed. The space between us was massive, but I didn’t know how to bridge the gap. “I want to help you, but I have no idea what to do.”

“You are helping,” I said, my words slightly muffled by my pillow.

He had no idea how much he was helping by just being there. Solid and strong. He also had no idea how much his presence hurt. I didn’t know why both things were true, but they were.

I wanted to be close to him constantly, but I could barely stand to touch him most of the time. I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t want to talk. I knew it was unfair to him, but I couldn’t seem to claw my way out of this whirlpool of conflicting emotions. I needed him with me to feel safe, but I was afraid if I let him get too close, I’d lose what little composure I’d managed to hold on to.

“I couldn’t understand why you weren’t sad,” I finally said, halfway hoping that he was asleep and wouldn’t answer me. “Why was I so upset when you weren’t?”

“What?” he asked in confusion. He leaned up on one elbow, the light from the bathroom illuminating his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I just can’t get out of this pit,” I said, the words a relief as I said them. “I try and move past it, but I just can’t. The baby was barely anything, barely even there, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Missing it. How did you do it?”

“You thought I didn’t care?” he said, his voice choked. “Why?”

“You said you were fine,” I replied. “You keep saying you’re fine.”

“I’m not fine,” he said instantly.

His words were firm and direct, and something in my chest tightened and loosened at the same time. How had I missed it? He seemed okay. He always seemed okay. I was falling apart, and he just went on with his life like nothing had happened.