Page 23 of Devil’s Torture

My soul is stained by the lives I’ve taken in the last ten years, even if those deaths were earned. I still finished out those judgements as if I had any right to.

“You seem uncomfortable. Is it the park?” Bexley’s voice drops low, “Is it Dawn?”

I snap my head around to stare at the only woman I have ever loved. “Of course it’s not Dawn. She’s amazing.” Slowly, I turn back toward the play area and watch as Dawn encourages a much younger kid to give the slide a try. She’s so gentle.

She would make an amazing big sister.

The thought hits me out of nowhere even though I should not be thinking it. Because then I’ll be thinking about how much I’ve missed everything about Bexley’s body. It would be dangerous, and far too tempting, to go down that road.

“Then why does it look like you have ants in your pants right now?”

The laugh that comes out of me is rough with disuse and completely surprises me. I shift, again, on the bench without knowing I’m doing it at all.

“I don’t deserve this.” I shake my head slowly as I watch Dawn cheer on the little kid who is looking at my daughter like she’s a princess. “I don’t deserve to have her light in my life.”

Bexley is quiet for a long time, long enough that I’m tempted to look at her. I stop myself. Because I’m a coward.

I know there’s no forward with us unless I tell her the truth of what happened. The risk is huge and I’m not sure how she’ll react. The thought of her being afraid of me because of that night, or any of the nights after, is beyond terrifying.

“I don’t think that’s true,” her words are quiet and I have to strain to hear them. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was excited because I knew you’d make a great father, and I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“Then I wasn’t there,” there’s resignation in my tone.

“No,” her voice doesn’t hold any judgement, “you weren’t. I’m not saying this to rub it in. I’m pointing out that there was a reason that was my first reaction and I think that version of you still exists,” she points toward me and makes a motion to encompass my entire frame, “somewhere in there. Even if only in fragments.”

“What was your second feeling?” I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t seem to help myself.

“Fear.” She closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, she looks at me seriously. “I’ll answer almost any questions you have about the pregnancy and Dawn, but I don’t think it helps either of us to get too deep into whatever emotional turmoil there is between us.”

“I wish I would have known.” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. They’re inadequate and cheap.

“But you didn’t know.” She sighs; the sound filled with something like resolve. “I don’t want to be angry about it anymore. It’s more exhausting than forgiveness, considering there’s still a lot of truth left unsaid at this point.”

Her words are pointed and I know what she wants. I just can’t give it to her.

“You have no idea how many times I wanted to come home, but I couldn’t.” Talk about inadequate. Damn, I’m really on a roll right now with things I shouldn’t be saying.

“What did you do on the road?”

“The jobs given to me.” It’s true. And it also completely sidesteps her question.

Bexley lets out a huff and rolls her eyes. It almost makes me laugh. Almost.

“I know it’s not enough of an explanation, but I don’t want you to be dirtied by my time on the road.” When I look at her, I can see the strain around her eyes as they flash with something like pain. I put all of my focus on my woman—and she is mine, whether she’s ready to admit it or not—and hope she can hear the honesty in my words. “One thing you do need to know is that I was faithful to you the entire time. I never touched another woman.”

Bexley’s hair flies around her head when she turns to look at me. Her brown eyes are wide and a little wild. “You don’t need to tell me that,” she practically hisses the words.

Something eases in me when her cheeks pink slightly. There’s a chance for us to find a way forward together; I know it.

She wouldn’t be blushing if she only feels hatred and resentment toward me. Though I’m sure we’ll have to work through our fair share of it.

I fucked up. It’s not like I can deny it. I’m trying to own it.

“Are you trying to ask me something?” There’s wariness in Bexley’s voice as she asks the question.

“No, I just need you to know.”

Fuck, do I want to know if she’s been with anyone else? Yes; it’s killing me not to know. But it’s none of my business, not right now at least.