Anyway, after that miserable party, when I’m not sobbing, I’m knitting.
Oh, I knit like crazy these days.
Tempest bought me so much yarn that I can knit well into next year. I knit Halo everything that I can think of: socks, booties, hats, scarves. Even sweaters.
When I complete the first sweater, baby blue with little white wings and a white halo above it, and I show it to Reed, he doesn’t say anything for a minute.
A whole minute.
I sit in the bed, propped up on my pillows as usual and count the seconds.
When I can’t take the suspense anymore, I ask, fearfully, “You don’t like it?”
Sitting beside me, he looks up then; he’s been staring silently at the sweater all this time and my heart squeezes in my chest at the look in his eyes. All molten and intense.
Then he speaks, his voice so rough and guttural that my heart bleeds in my chest. “I like it.”
“This is my second attempt,” I whisper, clutching my nightie. “At intarsia.”
His jaw, as usual stubbled at night, moves back and forth. “It’s perfect. Just like the first.”
Again, I want to ask him.
I want to ask him what he did with the sweater that I made him. But I can’t.
I’m still too afraid.
I’m afraid that he will break my heart even more. I’m afraid that even though he’ll tell me that he’s thrown it away, that maybe he doesn’t even remember where he put it because it was so inconsequential to him, I’ll make him another sweater.
I’ll keep knitting for him and storing them away somewhere like the brokenhearted girl that I am.
So I don’t and he doesn’t tell me.
What he does do is love me.
That night he’s the most tender he has ever been. He clutches my belly, cradles it as he moves inside of me. And when we come together, he cuddles with me tightly.
He can’t stop kissing my forehead.
He can’t stop smelling me, rubbing his nose in the crook of my neck. And then he does the sweetest thing ever. He spreads that tiny sweater over my naked bump and kisses it.
In fact, he sets up camp there, near my swollen belly, lying on his stomach and propped up on his elbows as he keeps staring at the sweater, at my belly. Deep in thought, he keeps tracing my veins over my distended belly.
“No boys,” he says, suddenly.
I was playing with his hair, my other hand cradling my bump, but I stop now. “What?”
He looks up with a fierce frown, his bare chest tight, his shoulders brittle. “No boys. Ever.”
Halo kicks in my stomach. “For Halo?”
“Yeah. Boys are fucking assholes.”
I chuckle, tugging on his hair. “Takes one to know one.”
His frown thickens. “Exactly. No one gets to break her heart.”
“What if she falls in love with one?”
“She won’t,” he declares as if he can control that. “And if she does, I’m going to kill him. So problem solved.”
I can’t help it then. I laugh. “You’re going to kill the boy Halo falls in love with.”
“If that’s what it takes to protect her, yes.”
I study his outraged features, his longish hair brushing his strong, muscular shoulders, his hand on my belly, the hand of a protector, a predator.
Her hero. My villain.
“You’re crazy,” I murmur.
“She’s mine.”
I smile, my eyes all wet. “She is.”
“No one gets to hurt her.”
See?
My Halo will get her happy ending and so as her mom I’ll take my happiness there.
As her mom, I’ll ignore my own heartbreak.
I’ll ignore that her hero is my gorgeous villain.
***
Late-May, in my seventh month of pregnancy, I get what I want.
So all this time, I’ve been trying to figure out how to help Reed. How to set him free from the job he hates, from his dad and that company that’s sucking the soul out of him. When he leaves for the office after dropping me off at school in the morning, he’s all smooth and polished but by the time the day ends, it’s like he’s been in a war.
He, of course, does not want to talk about it.
I’ve even discussed it with Tempest but she says the same thing. That her brother has always been like this. He won’t talk about it. He won’t discuss it. He won’t let anyone know what he’s feeling. It’s just best to leave him alone because he’ll bite your head off if you show even a little bit of sympathy or try to help him.
But I can’t leave it alone.
Flawed and destructive and gorgeous, he’s the love of my life.
I have to help him. I have to find a way to get him free.
So I’ve been mulling it over and over about what to do.
But then a miracle happens.
I get to meet Pete.
Reed’s sixty-year-old friend who sucks at giving advice.
The only reason I get to meet him is because I’ve annoyed Reed so much by asking about him ever since he revealed that piece of information to me. And because I told him if he won’t talk about his job, then I at least get to meet his one and only friend, Pete.
Besides, he’s met all my friends. He knows my entire family.
Why is he being such a jerk about me wanting to meet his one and only friend?
So after a lot of debate, today we’re going to meet Pete.
Through my poking and prodding, I have at least found out that he’s the owner of Auto Alpha, where Reed used to work back in Bardstown High. And he was the one who taught Reed everything about cars.
I’m so excited to meet him.
In fact, I go all out in preparation.
I’ve baked him chocolate chip cookies and vanilla cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. To thank him for being Reed’s friend when my villain never had anyone. I wanted to bake Pete something different and fancier. But idiot Reed won’t tell me what Pete likes so I’ve gone with the safest choices.
Reed glares at the cupcake boxes in my hands as I emerge out of the glass house before taking them from me and depositing them inside his Mustang.
I know his mood is off for the reason only he understands. I mean, we’re going to go meet his friend. How bad can it be?
Even so, I smile up at him. “I’m excited.”
His frown only deepens as he stares at my smiling lips. Then jerking his smooth jaw up, he asks, “What’s this one called?”
I touch my lips. “Oh. Uh, Queen of the Bards.”
It’s dark-green lipstick, almost black, and I’ve paired it with a lime green maternity dress with black printed flowers and black flats.
I’ve given a lot of thought to my appearance. This is the first time I’ll be meeting a friend of the guy I love and I’m trying to make a good impression.
“Why?” he asks.
“Because of Bardstown. Our town. I love it.”
“Good,” he almost growls.