Kill Switch (Devil's Night 3)

But then she mentioned kids and it being on my clothes and how secondhand smoke kills, and do I really want the baby to smell like shit?

Ah, fuck it.

I walked over to the French doors, picking up my lighter off the table, and sparking it up as I put on my shoes and opened the door to go out, but then I heard her sleepy voice from across the room.

“Hey,” she said from the bed. “Anything wrong?”

I growled silently, tearing the cigarette out of my mouth and crushing it in my fist.

Dammit. She would’ve smelled it on me when I came in, but at least I would’ve gotten a smoke in.

I tossed the lighter and broken cigarette on the bureau, kicking off my shoes and heading over to her.

“Everything’s fine,” I soothed, sitting on the bed and leaning down to kiss her.

“You were trying to smoke, weren’t you?” she said, sitting up.

I sighed, setting my phone back on the bedside table. “I’m dying here, babe.”

She snorted. “You don’t have to quit,” she told me. “I’m not going to leave you over it. It’s just healthier.”

Then she climbed up on me, straddling me as I sat on the side of the bed.

“I know.” I ran the backs of my knuckles under her V-neck, over her stomach, touching the soft skin that still wasn’t showing signs that there was a kid in there.

She was only about eight weeks along, and with all the dancing, she was working off a lot of what she ate, and I worried the baby wasn’t getting enough, so everyone was feeding her all the time now. Thankfully, her tour was short, and she only had a few more performances before a nice, long break.

We’d gone ’round about putting herself in danger and the kid in danger with the shows, but she was determined to assure me she could finish it and be safe.

Things had gone well for her the past couple of months, and she already had more projects lined up for after the baby was born.

I tried to be at every performance—no matter where—but after the work I did for Grady MacMiller, jobs started coming in, and I had to work. A couple families sent me to their summer houses down south to build things, and I was busy planning out more projects already booked for spring and summer.

I made sure either Rika, Banks, or Alex was with her if she had to go out of town overnight for a performance that I couldn’t attend.

And although I was paying the bills and building us a future, I did relent when Banks gave the house back to Winter, including ownership of everything in it. Banks advised Winter to keep it solely in her name, though, so she could kick me out whenever she wanted.

They laughed about that one.

And Banks also honored my father’s deal with Margot and Ari for a nice settlement, even though the marriage didn’t make it a year and was now annulled. They’d moved into the city, Ari refusing to ever be in the same room with me again.

Somehow I’d find the strength to go on living.

And we still hadn’t heard anything about her father. I hoped it stayed that way.

Winter planted her forehead on mine, gliding her fingers down my arms.

>

“It’s snowing,” she whispered.

“How’d you know that?”

We weren’t outside. She couldn’t feel it.

“I can hear it,” she said. “Listen.”

We sat there, so still and quiet, and I closed my eyes, trying to see the world how she did. I inhaled, smelling the cold air, but the silence rang in my ears, and I couldn’t hear it at first.