Hawke (Cold Fury Hockey 5)

"Yes," I say firmly, and pull back. His arms drop and he stares at me helplessly.

"It didn't register with me that my period was late. I never thought twice about the way we partied. I assumed nothing bad would ever come of it, and I most certainly didn't think I could get pregnant while I was on the pill. I never gave two thoughts about the consequences of my actions because I was swallowed up by you. You commanded all my attention. You consumed me. Everything was about you, and as long as I had you, I didn't care about anything else. And don't pretend it wasn't the same on your end. As long as you had me, nothing else mattered. We were young and stupid and in no way ready to really grasp the concept of love and commitment. I lay in a hospital emergency room bleeding our child out because I never once thought our actions could ever cause us pain. I was stupid, immature, and I knew--"

My voice cracks, my shoulders slump. Hawke is starting to see that this goes much deeper than just being pissed at him for not leaving the party with me.

"I just knew," I continue, embarrassed at the way my voice quavers with such heavy emotion. After seven years, the blame and guilt I carried still weighs so heavy on me. "I knew that what happened that night was my fault because I couldn't see past you. Nothing else mattered to me. At age twenty, we had no worries. You were a hockey god and my lover. I was your goddess and I walked on water as far as you were concerned. I understand now how the young heart and mind fail to see reality and prefer to live inside a false sense of security all in the name of true love. If I had been clued in just a little...had I bothered to look away from your bright, shining star for just a moment, maybe I would have paid more attention to the fact my period was late. Maybe I would have taken a pregnancy test, and maybe I would have quit drinking. I wouldn't have gone to parties where there was cigarette and pot smoke hanging all around. Maybe I would have showed the maturity and wisdom that was necessary to prevent the death of our child--"

"Fuck," Hawke groans, that one word laced with such pain, his face is pale and his lips colorless. He grabs me again, pulls me in tight to him. "Not your fault, Vale. Not your fault."

He squeezes me tight, and my arms come around his waist, finally accepting the comfort and security he could have given me all those years ago. I don't believe him at all when he tells me it's not my fault, but that part of me that always loved him revels in his loyalty to me.

"Not your fault," he continues to murmur, rocking me back and forth in his arms. "Not your fault."

Not your fault, not your fault, not your fault.

"I'm so fucking sorry," Hawke murmurs with his lips against my hair, then pulls back to look down at me. His voice crackles with emotion. Tears fill his eyes, then slip and fall down his cheeks. "I should have gone with you. You were more important to me than my buddies, but I took it all for granted. I should have been with you, and I would have been right there when that whack-job doctor dared to make you feel responsible. I should have held your hand, and hugged you and kissed away your tears. I should have assured you that we'd have other chances for babies and that there were a million reasons you could have miscarried."

I want to open my mouth and denounce everything he's saying. I can't stand the pain and grief he's enduring right now. I can't stand that I took away his opportunity to be there for me and to share in this as my lover and partner. More guilt presses down on me, and it's never been more clear to me than in this moment that I greatly wronged Hawke all those years ago.

Chapter 19

Hawke

I had a baby with Vale.

Vale and I created a life.

Tiny. Perfect.

Not so perfect.

Fleeting.

Vale clings on to me tightly, her face now pressed back into my chest. I whisper words of apology and absolution. I try to reiterate to her over and over again that the miscarriage wasn't her fault. Now is not the time, but when it's right, I'll ultimately need to convince her that it wasn't "our" fault either. She seems to want to put some of the blame on our relationship as a whole, arguing that our utter devotion to and consumption of each other led us to be ignorant of life.

I don't agree with this.

Not at all.

She finally quiets. My words dry up, but I continue to hold her, one hand trailing up and down her back in soothing strokes. Been so long since I've held her like this, and I never thought I'd live to see the day it would happen again. In many ways, this feels like it did years ago. So right, so comfortable. In other ways, it feels awkward, because Vale and I are completely different people than we were then. I wonder, had this one horrific event not occurred, would we have grown together over the years, or apart?

I'd like to think together, because despite the fact we were young and probably clueless as to what real commitment was like, there was something we had that I've never found again, and I'm pretty sure Vale hasn't either.

And that was a tethering of our souls.

I know it sounds hokey, but I felt it. Down in my gut, straight through my core. An intense connection with Vale that I'm not even sure I felt with my parents, as much as I love them.

Sadly, I don't feel it now, not the way I did before. I feel a fluttering, or perhaps it's a reawakening, and it makes me wonder where we go from here. At least for the long term.

For the immediate future--as in right now--I know exactly where we're going.

Releasing her from my embrace, I stoop to grab her hand and turn to lead her toward the bathroom. "Come on. Let's take a hot bath together. I don't know about you, but I feel like I've been run over by a Mack truck."

Vale halts, pulls her hand against mine. Not enough to dislodge it, but enough to make me turn toward her. "I can't. I have to get back home to my dad."

"Yeah, not going to happen," I say, and turn toward the bathroom again.

This time she jerks her hand from mine. I round on her, expecting a furious tirade over my high-handed ways, but damn...I was always like that with Vale. She should remember that, and as much as she likes to bitch about it, I also know she loved it.

Instead, she chews on her lower lip, absolute indecision causing her brow to furrow deep. "I think it's best if I just get home. I'm worried about Dad--"

"Cut the shit, Vale," I tell her with a censuring look but an affable smile. "No more secrets. No more lies. It's all out on the table now, which means now we deal with it."

"Deal with it how?" she asks with frustration. "You've had seven years of bitterness toward me. Now you've got grief and sadness. I've got a shit ton of guilt on my shoulders and we haven't even--"

She stops cold, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Haven't even what?" I ask her softly as I step up to her. The knuckle on my index finger goes under her chin, lifting her face. She looks at me with a swift smile and shakes her head.

"Nothing," she says in an accommodating smile. "It's all out on the table

. I'm just...not sure how we process this. What we do."

"What we do?" I ask her with mock sarcasm, and so she knows I'm teasing I give her an impish smile. "I'll tell you what we do. We go get in the bathtub and we relax a bit. But because you'll be naked, and in my arms, I'm going to get horny again, and so we'll fuck in the tub. Preferably with you riding me."

Vale cocks a gorgeously arched eyebrow at me and folds her arms over her chest. "So sex will solve all our problems?"

"It damn well won't make them worse," I say with a grin.

She rolls her eyes at me, and to my dismay, turns around to grab her jeans off the floor. I'm lunging at her before she can even think to put one foot in them. I grab them from her, toss them across the room, and spin her in my arms. I let my hands frame her face and I bend down to brush my nose against hers. "Listen, I understand now why you did what you did. I hate we lost those years. Hate you've been under this guilt. I don't know exactly where we go from here, but I do know where we don't go. And that's backward. We don't go back to the anger. We don't go back to the grief. And we sure as shit don't go back to just being friends."

Her eyes are filled with indecision, and I see an intense worry lurking deep within. I can almost imagine cogs and wheels rotating in that brain of hers, trying to figure out some way to accept what I'm saying, but perhaps too mired in the thickness of her wounded conscience to see what's standing just a few feet in front of her.

"Vale," I say softly to get her attention. To make sure there is no doubt about what I'm getting ready to say. "I understand why you did that to me...cutting me loose. For not letting me be there for you. I get it...I really do. It's done and we can stop playing the blame game, okay?"

"So we just start over?" she asks hesitantly.

My mouth splits wide into a smile of dazzling magnitude. I step back from her, dropping my hands from her face. Coughing slightly to clear my throat, I extend my arm, palm sideways, and say, "Hi. My name is Hawke. Nice to meet you."

Vale purses her lips, letting me know she thinks I'm a dork, but I can see the humor in her gaze. She takes my hand, gives me a firm handshake. "I'm Vale. It's nice to meet you too."