Protect (50 page)

“She may be tough, but she’ll need you to be
there for her. No matter what this is.”

“I will be.” Fritter gave Tiny’s arms a
squeeze and the guy let him go.

Once his family was assembled, he took to
pacing again. No one tried to get him to relax or drink a cup of
coffee. Knowing him the way they did, they let him be.

-oOo-

It was three hours before they let him back
to see her. A lot happened in that three hours, and his eyes were
burning with tears when he finally pushed open the door to her
room. She was in a shared room, but there was no one in the other
bed. Sharon was closest to the window, and she was curled on her
side, staring out the window at the sky. It was pitch black, but
for some reason tonight the stars were actually visible.

He took a deep shuddering breath, swallowed
the urge to start sobbing like a bitch again, then moved to her
bedside. She didn’t move, even though she had to have heard
him.

“Sharon?” he asked, proud that his voice
didn’t break.

No answer.

“Sharon? Baby? You awake?”

The answer was a sharp inhale, then her body
started shaking. Fuck, she was crying.

“Baby—” he reached out to touch her shoulder
but she pulled away. He took his hand back, unsure what to do.

She was still silent, but he could tell she
was sobbing. He turned and strode to the wall, leaning forward
until his forehead rested against the cool surface. Maybe he should
just go get his mom. She’d know better what to do—

“I never felt it kicking,” she whispered, and
he turned, back to her side in a flash.

“Baby—”

“She didn’t move. She never kicked.”

He closed his eyes. They hadn’t wanted to
know the sex, wanted it to be a surprise. When the doctor told him
his daughter was stillborn, Sharon’s body had just simply tried to
get rid of it, what he fixated on was the word
daughter
.
That was the most poignant moment. It wasn’t a baby that didn’t
technically exist anymore, to his way of thinking anyway. He’d had
a daughter on the way, and she didn’t make it.

They’d picked out names for both occasions;
boy or girl. Not only was she no longer just “the baby,” she was
Heidi Mickayla. Heidi because those were Sharon’s favorite books
growing up, Mickayla in honor of Mickey. If it had been a boy it
would have been Robert Michael, with Robert for her father, Michael
for the same reason; Mickey.

He toed his running shoes off and climbed
onto the bed beside her. After a moment she rolled over, and
without giving him a chance to kiss her or even see her face she
burrowed into him, arms going around him, head tucking under his
chin.

He wrapped his arms around her, letting his
tears fall in her hair because she couldn’t see them. “I’m so
sorry,” he whispered, squeezing her when he spoke. “Baby, I am so
fucking sorry. What do you need me to do for you?”

“Nothing,” she whimpered, sniffling. “No one
can do anything. She’s dead.”

He stoked her arm with one hand. “I’ll just
hold you then, okay?”

She nodded, and they fell into silence. He
wished he could absorb her hurt and sorrow, take it away and bear
it for her. But in this, he was useless. Nothing he could fight,
nothing he could tear apart, nothing he could kill to make it
better.

After a long moment, he pressed his lips to
her hair and said something he’d been unable to say for the last
few months. But he had to say it now. “I love you, Sharon.”

She stiffened in his arms, and he held onto
her tighter.

“I love you. I hate how much this hurts, I
hate that it hurts you at all. I’d take it all away if I could,
baby. And I love you, I love you so much I was completely out of my
mind thinking I could lose you.”

She had softened in his hold, then she went
up on one elbow, wiping at her nose. When she looked up at him it
broke his heart; she was puffy from crying, her nose was pink and
her eyes were painfully red. He cupped her face, thumb stroking her
jawline.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, feeling
the heat in his chest as he said it, knowing it was true to his
marrow.

“I love you, too,” she whispered so softly he
barely heard it. His stomach released a tension he hadn’t known was
there and he smiled, stooping his head to kiss her. She softly
returned the pressure of his mouth, then when he pulled away she
placed a hand on the center of his chest. “I’m sorry I lost our
baby.”

He shook his head, pulling her into a hug
again. “No, no no no no no,” he murmured, pressing his face into
the top of her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. Please
don’t do that.”

She was crying again. Fuck, this was killing
him.

“We’ve got each other,” he said, sounding
stronger than he thought he could. “As long as we got that, we’re
fine.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, nodding the small
amount she could.

“Are you hurtin’?”

“No. They gave me something to keep me calm,
too.”

“Feeling tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Fall asleep if you want, baby. I’m not going
anywhere.”

She relaxed into him, then the room fell
quiet again. His head was spinning, his body trying to still
itself. He felt like he needed to make this up to her somehow, but
that was ridiculous. It was a baby. He’d bought her a new puppy to
go with the new house, but that wasn’t really to
replace
Earp. He just wanted her to have a dog for when he was out on the
road.

If the other husbands in the club had taught
him one thing, it was that their women didn’t need them to fix
everything for them. They just had to be there. Sure Buck killed
the guys that raped Gertie, then they got the Mazaris that had hurt
Gertie and Rose. And Jayce got to kill the guy that hurt
Trinny.

But more than that, those men had to stand
behind their women. Vengeance was one thing. More importantly,
those women had to heal on their own. And all they needed was their
man’s support. Buck did it for Gertie, Tank for Rose.

And he’d do it for Sharon.

About C.D.
Breadner:

C.D. Breadner is a self-published
author. Her first novel,
Sin
Eater,
was the beginning of The Sin
Eater series, an urban paranormal, slightly erotic series looking
at the different forces of good and evil. Recently she was
christened a contributing author to The Freak Circle; a collective
of amazing and supportive writers who encouraged her to delve into
the genre of motorcycle club fiction with them, which brought about
her second series, the stories of the Red Rebels MC.

She recently also published a
standalone novel that takes place during World War II,
Drawing Blood.

She lives in a cozy home in the
woods with her wonderful husband and two German
Shepherds.

Visit C.D. Breadner’s
Website

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Breadner’s Smashwords Page