“Hey, baby girl, it’s Aunt Lux. We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” I glance across the room at Emery bundled up in Lux’s arms, listening to Lux talk to her. Kaston is sitting beside her, his hand cupped around the back of Emery’s head and his other arm stretched out behind Lux on the small sleeper sofa in the hospital room. He’s staring at Lux interacting with her, adoration in his eyes.
A knock sounds at the door, a young postpartum nurse not much older than me walking in pushing her computer station toward me. She’s a different one than I’ve had since they moved me into a postpartum room, signifying it’s likely a shift change. “How are you feeling, Mama?”
I hold out my wrist when she extends the handheld scanner toward me, letting her scan my wristband. “Tired,” I admit, feeling every minute of the past thirteen-hour labor and thirty-minute pushing session that only ended an hour ago.
She types something in her computer. “Are you in pain?”
I raise my brow when she looks back at me, pulling a pen from her scrub pocket. “Is that a trick question? I just pushed a six-pound watermelon out of my vagina; my very normal-sized, petite girl vagina. It’s screaming at me.”
She laughs. “I’m glad you’re honest. Between you and me, I want to slap those women that look at me with tears in their eyes and say, ‘I’m great.’ So, would you like some medication to ease the pain or are you going to be like them and try to be a superhero in the days of modern medicine?”
“Drug me up.”
A few clicks on her computer and she hands me a small cup with two pills inside. I take it with the glass of water on the rolling tray beside me, handing the empty cup back to her. “I’ll check on you in a little while.” She glances at Kaston and Lux still holding Emery, and then back at me as she starts pushing her cart to the door, hinting not so subtly. “Try to get some rest. You have all day tomorrow for visitors.”
After fighting with Kross about going in to work this morning when he wanted me to stay home and rest, I waddled my ass in the front door with him on my tail, just in time for my water to break behind the desk as I was booting up the computer. Didn’t even have a chance to put my purse down before I was staring down at a puddle of liquid on the floor.
I couldn’t get the mop out of the closet to clean it up before the ‘I told you so’ started, and lots of cursing followed. My goal was to work through the milder contractions. He had me in the truck and headed to the hospital within five minutes, leaving my embarrassing mess for Cassie to clean up; all to just lay there for hours on end, feeling every ounce of pain until I couldn’t take it anymore. An epidural is an amazing thing. I went from crying and breathing and whining and squeezing to floating on a magical pain free cloud within minutes, my entire lower body useless.
I swear that man has some kind of connection with the universe, a ruler of all things supernatural, because I had not had one single contraction the entire pregnancy, not even Braxton Hicks.
At thirty-nine weeks and two days, she had more time to bake before her arrival date. The two of them were plotting against me just for spite, because the ‘apprentice’ discounted tattoos have been doing so well over the past several months. I’ve gotten more hours in with the gun than I ever imagined; even following Kross’s strict hour-long break requirement between sessions to get up and walk around, due to the pregnancy and all.
Now, I’ll be out for at least six weeks, according to my doctor. I wish I had been told that at any appointment except for the one Kross was present for. There is no chance of me returning early with him having that knowledge. Every time I think about it, I want to roll my eyes and smile at the same time.
When we got back home after my ‘abduction from Hell’, I took a few weeks off to gather my bearings. I stood in the shower that night for two hours, crying and shaking under the hot and cold water as the shock wore off, Kross with me the entire time.
The truth is I was scared. I could have lost so much more than I did, like my life, my baby, and my own control over my body. I needed to get my mind right after that, and some nights, the nightmares are still real. Those hours of darkness were a turning point for me. I promised never again to take advantage of my life, of the people important to me. Instead, I want to value it. I’m done living like I have too much time. Now, I live as if I may not get another day, and it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever done.
We vowed not to talk about it once it was over—all of us. It was my request. It’s best that way. The man I love can stomach a lot that I can’t. I saw things that night I never thought I would. Things I never want to see again. Kross refused to tell me what he did to that man. I had to know, for me, so I asked. I could see darkness in Kross’s eyes that night that terrified me. I knew whatever he did was bad.
Deep down, I know he deserved whatever he got, but despite everything I went through with my mom growing up, I somehow was granted a tender, caring heart, and death is something that can’t be reversed. I think Kross knows it too, because to this date, he has yet to confess. But the part he doesn’t know is that when he carried me out, my arms wrapped around his neck, I got a glimpse of a corpse Kaston was dealing with missing a very important body part. It made the headless horseman story come to life, and something like that, unfortunately, I’ll never forget, as much as I wish I could.
Kross refuses to leave me since that night. He won’t admit it, but I think he’s adopted guilt over what happened; that maybe some of it was his fault, even though that’s absurd. I could have said no to anything he made me a part of, but I didn’t.
He stayed with me when I wouldn’t work, and he’s not taken any jobs outside of the shop since; at least not directly. I’m pretty sure Kross has an entire black-market organization out there that he can work from behind the scenes; all of which I’m not completely familiar with yet.
What I do know is that he’s spent more time with his designs and the company that Kaston is investing in. His new stuff that’s been stored in a warehouse not far away will go in the new shop across town. If it goes well, he will revamp all of his existing shops, eliminating a lot of his third-party vendors.
I know there are things that are part of him I can’t change, and honestly, even after everything, I don’t want to. If you love someone you accept them the way they are. It’s one major breakthrough my mom and I have had throughout the past months of my pregnancy. She’s learning to love me outwardly for who I am, tattoos, piercings and all, and she’ll be waiting at our house with my stepdad to meet Emery once we get home. Because of the chemotherapy her immune system is compromised. A hospital is the last place she needs to be.
As for mine and Kross’s life—I don’t have to be okay with crime to accept it. There is always a cause and effect. Kross’s lifestyle is the effect of his childhood. I love him, I understand him, and I accept him . . . fully. The way he lives doesn’t affect his love for me, which gets more obvious every day.
We decided on the night that we stood in Emery’s completed pink and black room, decorated in feminine skulls and crossbones and packed with everything she needs and then some, that I would stay behind when he had a job or a meeting from now on.
I’ll be the one to raise Emery behind the scenes when there are things he has to do. After he realized in a back-and-forth discussion that I will not be babysat on nights he has to leave me, he doubled up on security in all forms at home. He’s been teaching me how to shoot with target practice to protect myself if I ever need it, so it’s unnecessary, but I deal with it if it makes him feel better.
I lay my head back against the elevated hospital bed and look at Kross, who’s standing in the corner not far from Lux with his hands in his pockets, staring at Emery. His expression is void, so I know he’s working feelings or thoughts out in his head, and I’ve let him with no disruption.
He’s been there the entire time we’ve been in this room, doing the same thing. The only difference in now and during labor and delivery was that he did stand beside me at the head of the bed then.
He looks more like a gargoyle than a person. Kaston gave up trying to talk to him a while ago. A few questions unanswered and a knowing look and he hasn’t acknowledged Kross since. Those two have a relationship I’ll probably never understand, so I don’t even try.
But he’s yet to hold his daughter.
“Lux, can you guys give us a few minutes alone? I’m tired and I need to talk to Kross about something.”
She stands slowly and walks toward me. Kross’s eyes never leave Emery as she crosses the room. She smirks when she gets close enough that she’s away from the boys. “Someone is protective,” she whispers, placing Emery in my arms.
Emery makes a noise as she yawns and resettles. I notice Kross tense out of the corner of my eye. Lux places her hands on my face, kissing my forehead. “You did good, Mama. We’re going to get out of here. I’m starving and hospital food is not for me. Call me if you need anything. I’m just a drive away.”
“Okay. Love you. Tell the nurse no visitors, will ya?”
“Sure thing.” She winks, before turning and gathering her things. Kross moves to the sleeper as Kaston and Lux walk to the door, leaning forward and placing his forearms to his thighs, his hands rubbing up and down his face.
The door finally shuts. “Kross.” He looks at me. “Come hold her.”
He stares at her for a moment, and then looks at me. “She’s better with you. I’m fine.”
I’m going to have to go about this differently. “Come here. You’re making me feel like I have a contagious disease.”
He stands and walks over to me. “I figured you needed space after . . . all that.”
“What I need is for you to sit in that chair next to me.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue. He does as I asked. I slowly maneuver myself to the edge of the bed with her in my arms. He stands in a hurry. “What do you need? I’ll get it.”
“Sit, Kross,” I say, harsher. “I had a baby. I’m not helpless.”
He blows out but does as I ask. When I get my feet on the ground, I slowly stand and step toward him, forcing her in his arms. Every muscle tenses to cradle her when I let go. “I’m going to shower.”
As fast as I can move with the pain, I round the bed, headed to the private bathroom. “Delta,” he barks, just as I close the door, leaving him alone with her. I ignore him, pressing my back against it, my eyes welling up with tears from the guilt . . . or the hormones. I’m not sure which at this point.
I could be insane, but I know he won’t hurt her. I feel it in my heart. With Kross, there is no middle ground, no slow easement from one thing to another. It’s all or nothing. I’ve known this since we started this relationship. I push. He requires the shove to do anything outside of his comfort zone. He never had anyone to teach him, so he doesn’t learn that way. He learns by teaching himself in privacy without any spectators, so for fifteen minutes I’m going to give him time to bond with his daughter without judgment from anyone else.
I glance in the frosted mirror from the steam covering the bathroom, brushing through my long, wet hair, finally feeling just a tad bit back to normal. Thank God I’m out of that hospital gown and in my own pajamas.
I set the brush on the counter and quickly brush my teeth, before slowly making my way back to the door. I take a deep breath as my hand grips the door handle, before finally opening it and taking a step out, preparing for his anger to hit the second I do.
It never comes.
I turn toward them, and with one glance my entire spirit is broken, my soul crushed, and my heart destroyed. My face becomes soaked in a matter of seconds.
I slowly make my way around the bed, easing with each step forward, until I’m standing in front of him, in front of them. His tattooed hand seems bigger against her, but her tiny hand is wrapped around his index finger.
As a lover of ink, the contrast of her creamy skin against his tattoos is beautiful. I don’t know what to do or say. He grips the front neckline of his shirt with the opposite hand and wipes the inside down his face to rid of the evidence, but instead of letting go, he keeps the fabric over his face.
“Kross . . . don’t hide from me. I’m the one person you don’t have to hide from.”
In a voice rawer than I’ve ever heard it, he says, “The devil doesn’t cry.”
I straddle his lap in the oversized hospital chair and grip his face in my hands, ignoring the pain between my legs, Emery between us. “That may be so, but a father does. There is nothing wrong with feeling something for someone so deep that it overwhelms you. It’s completely normal.”
“I feel something for you.”
“Yes, and because of those feelings, we created her. She’s the beautiful parts of me, and the beautiful parts of you. That makes it a different kind of feeling than anything you feel for me. A new feeling.”
A tear falls from his eye, hitting against the skin between my thumb and forefinger. “I don’t remember it being like this.”
“Me either, and that’s okay. We don’t have to have it together right now. Bringing a person into the world is scary and exciting. We can figure it out together, yeah?”
“And if I fail?”
“Then we try again. Even kings fail sometimes—the most powerful of all men.”
“I’m protective of her.”
“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
“I love you, Delta. You make my goddamn heart ache.”
I lean in, careful not to press against her, my lips an inch away from his. “I know the feeling. From the first time I saw you, I knew you’d break down my walls. I’ve been trying to break down yours ever since.”
He grabs the back of my head and kisses me in a way that leaves an imprint on the soul. A fire ignites and heats every corridor in my body. I pull away at the sound of her cry, wanting him in a way I’ve never wanted him before. “It’s going to be a long six weeks,” I whisper.
His eyes darken with hunger. “I’m not much of a rule follower. There are ways to bend them to my will.”
That’s it. I need to get out of this hospital before I make really bad decisions and jump his bones, consequences be damned . . .
