Hate You Not

“He was an abusive bastard. Just to her…and me a few times.” His voice drops low on that, as if using a low volume makes it less relevant. “Asher was so little… And after she died, he stopped.”

“You mean he stopped treating you bad?”

He nods. “He disengaged. It was like…we didn’t have a family anymore.” His voice wobbles on that, so he swallows and takes a second. “Before, it was a bad one,” he rasps. “I watched Asher like a hawk…after. But Dad was done.” He exhales. “He started a foundation in Mom’s name—for a type of depression that’s called PMDD. It’s hormonal. Like…I think women get it at a certain time of the month. The thing is…” He huffs out a quiet sound almost like a laugh. “That condition is like…chemical. You can have it even if your husband treats you very well. So that was savvy. Helped imply that Mom was ill. And that was all.”

But wasn’t she?

“Maybe she was,” he says, reading my mind, “but Dad beat the resilience out of her. I bet it went on for a lot longer than I even knew.”

I tighten my arms around him. “Oh, Burke. I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry we came here.”

“I wanted to,” he says gruffly. “Like how you brought me in that day, to your old house. I had never been back. Dad moved us out but held onto it. The bastard gave it to me a few years ago. So I’ve been wanting to sell. All this furniture is staged, but…” I can feel—or maybe hear—him swallow. “That day I was leaving your place,” he says in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. “They called—the stager did—and she had found out. The house’s history.”

So that’s what did it. Whoever that bitch was, she clearly told someone else what she’d found—because that local gossip rag published it just two days later.

“Was it…” I want to ask if the story was a big deal for him, but I’m not sure how. “Did you leave work?” I whisper, stroking his hair.

He inhales slowly and tucks his head against my chest, exhaling. “I decided to sell. I had been approached…and I decided I would. I just—” He sighs, and I hold him closer. “Making apps is not a passion for me. It’s more like a…challenge.” I think I can feel him smile against my throat as he says, “I took the construction job…to learn more woodwork. Get the basics down. I don’t think they had a clue about me till I fell. Then the foreman texted yesterday. I think he was worried I would sue or something. Anyway,” he says softly, as he leans slightly away from me. “You can see I’m not really the man for you. Your family is…” He lifts his head, frowning. “We’re not very similar,” he manages through his gritted teeth.

Tears shine in his eye, and he winces, his hand going to his bandaged side.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone in so much physical and emotional pain simultaneously.

I don’t mean to, but I lose it and start crying. Burke is clearly horrified. He pulls me up against him and holds me between his legs, so I’m half on top him. He’s leaning against the headboard. He strokes my hair and hugs me tight and whispers sorries until I can find the words to tell him, “You have nothing to be sorry for. Except disappearing. And not trusting me.”

I look up and find he looks confused at that. “I wanted to know, Burke. I would have loved to know your story. Everything about you. But I didn’t get the chance.”

He shuts his eyes. “I know.”

“You know what you don’t know, though?” He looks down at me, his face strained.

“I’m not holding it against you.” I reach up and stroke his scruffy, tired face. “I can forgive you.”

“I’m sorry. June…the way I feel about you—” He shakes his head, looking miserable. “It scares me,” he rasps.

I give him a teasing smile. “Say it again? The ‘s’ word?” Before he can, I lean up, closing the small space between us, and I brush my mouth over his. “I’m just teasing.”

I have the thought that maybe it’s too soon to be kidding with him. As his hand moves down my side. I kiss him again, tasting salt and his soft tongue. And then his hand brushes my belly.Chapter 30JuneI try to lean back, but it’s too late. His palm’s cupping the tiny baby bump I’m sporting just above my pants waist. He rubs once, his mouth gaping. I watch as the realization transforms his face. His eye widens as his jaw drops fully, and his whole body freezes.

He blinks once, slowly. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes.”

He sits up straighter, looking absolutely stunned as he gapes at me. “I got you pregnant? That night?”