Blood to Dust

He represents the part of our relationship I didn’t even know I craved before, but awakened a part of me that I didn’t know existed.

I can be a ruthless. I can kill. I can take from those who deserve to be punished.

The strength in knowing that, in some ways, he’s already fixed my soul is what makes me slide my mask on and push my door open. I walk into the parking lot. My small feet make very little sound, but this is Nate. He’s aware of my presence.

There’s something cinematic about the vision of his huge, muscular back as his fist clutches Sebastian’s short hair. I don’t know when he had time to decapitate my archenemy, but his pasty skin transformed from white to bluish in the short time he’s been dead. Blood drips from what’s left of his throat, but it’s more of an annoying trickle, like a broken faucet that drip, drip, drips.

The sound of Nate’s steps in his army boots echo off the walls of the empty parking lot. When he gets to a parking space that’s painted with Royal Realty’s title, he drops the head, letting it fall to the ground. Going down on one knee, he produces something small from his back pocket and arranges it neatly next to Seb’s head. I take a few breathless steps forward to see what he’s done.

It’s a small hourglass. Something he must’ve bought when we were in Los Angeles, while he was getting us some food.

Time.

Godfrey Archer is running out of it.

I open my mouth for the first time since I killed Sebastian.

“I’m sorry I used the gun. I know guns are for pussies.”

Not sparing me a glance, his back still to me, he shakes his head.

“You’re brave. Too brave. You did what you had to do, and I respect the shit out of you. Got it?”

The need for him to tell me that he still loves me is devastating and sucks the oxygen right out of me. Sebastian’s death is the least of my worries right now. It’s what’s been revealed in this visit that makes tears chase each other down my cheeks.

I had a violent abortion at the hands of Sebastian and Godfrey when they found out about the thing.

“My world ended that day.” My voice is small and sad.

“I know. But you’re building a better one. A stronger one. You’ve got this, Baby-Cakes.”

Nate marshals me into another dingy motel room—all of them are starting to mold into one another in my head—while I stumble to keep up with him.

The thing about trauma is, you don’t really know the extent of it when you’re looking from the inside. On the outside, though, Nate must see something incredibly alarming, because he pulls me into his arms and hugs me so hard my bones scream in pain.

“I loved it,” I say quietly into Nate’s chest. His heart beats against my ear in a slow, steady rhythm. He’s got the heartbeat of an athlete. Just one more thing that makes him my peace. He exhales hot, peachy air into my hair.

“Promise me you won’t break. You did so well today. So well.”

“I’ve got no more strength.” I’m quivering so violently, I bump into parts of his body without even noticing. “I don’t have any more fight in me.”

He cups my face in his hands, so that I can’t escape his penetrating gaze. “Then I’ll give you some of mine.”

Shaking my head, I suddenly feel hot. So hot. Too hot. I hate this place. This room. This life. I worm out of his touch.

“They’re monsters, but they’re going to pay for what they did to you, all of them. One day when this is all over, one day, sometime in the future, you’ll have it all. I promise. A big swollen belly from the man you love.”

You, I want to shout. You’re the man I love. Only we promised each other we’d say goodbye. Knowing I’m way too screwed up right now to face rejection, I still put myself in the most fragile situation I’ve ever been in. Rejection might kill me, but I have no choice.

I lift my eyes to meet his and my lips flatten.

“I want to come with you. Forget Iowa. Forget my stupid dreams. Can I come with you, Christopher Delaware?”

His gorgeous face pulls into a badass smirk and my heart stutters in my chest.

“Why, Miss Cockburn, I thought you’d never ask.”

I’m too exhausted, shocked and irritated to smile. But he picks me up honeymoon style and carries me to the dirty bed. We’re holding each other’s stares like neither of us believes we’re good enough for the other person to stick around. Somewhere underneath the painful reminder of my pregnancy. . .I’m at peace. I have a home now, and that’s with Nate.

We fall asleep like two dead people sometime after the sun breaks over the skyline. I don’t think I’ve ever been so sad in my entire life. But also happy, and confused. Hopeful and hopeless. I’m a mess. I’m his mess. And that’s something.