A Covert Affair (Deadly Ops #5)(50)

He kept his face against her neck, inhaled her sweet, exotic scent. And suddenly the words he’d been holding back burst free. “Why’d you end things, Amelia? What happened between us?” He needed to know and he wasn’t waiting any longer to ask her. It clawed at him relentlessly, made him wonder if he’d done something wrong. Or if she’d . . . met someone else and hadn’t wanted to tell him.

She stiffened under him, but he held her close, his naked body plastered to hers. He wasn’t letting her walk away until she answered. Right now they were both exposed.

“You want to talk about this now?” Her inner walls clenched around his half-hard cock.

No, damn it, he didn’t. But they needed to. He could never fucking move on or move forward with her if they didn’t talk. Slowly he pulled out of her heat and disposed of the condom. Before he’d shut the cabinet door for the trash can, she’d already tugged on her jeans and was yanking her T-shirt over her head, her hands trembling. Her bra and panties were still on the kitchen floor, but she clearly needed a barrier between them.

His gut tightened in warning. It pissed him off that she was pulling away from him. He grabbed his own pants, watching her intently as she sat on one of the swivel chairs. He lifted an eyebrow. He wasn’t going to ask again. Either she told him the truth or she didn’t. He couldn’t move forward with her until he knew what the hell had gone wrong.

“I got pregnant,” she blurted, her cheeks flushing red. Shame flashed in her gaze as she stared at him. It was soon replaced by wariness as she raked an unsteady hand through her hair.

He went rigid, tried to conceal his shock. “By me?” The question simply escaped because of her seeming embarrassment, but he immediately wanted to rein it back in. Deep down he didn’t think she’d ever been unfaithful. She wasn’t built that way. Neither was he.

“Yes, you! I never cheated on you!” Her eyes sparked with pure rage until he held up his palms in defense.

“I know. I’m sorry. Shit, it just popped out.” Even though he was wired, he sat in the chair across from her. A baby? She’d been pregnant with his baby? He wanted to take her hands, but she’d crossed her arms over her chest, her body language clear. “You were pregnant?” He felt as if his whole world had just tilted on its axis. Why hadn’t she told him?

She nodded. “Yes. And let me just get all this out before you start asking questions, okay?” When he nodded, she continued. “I had no idea until I was about four months along. I guess some women just carry small and I’m small anyway. And I’m rambling.” She scrubbed a nervous hand over her face, looking away from him for a second.

When she turned back her expression was shuttered. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was horrified. I . . . I didn’t want a baby and I knew you didn’t either.”

He automatically started to protest, but she shook her head. It wasn’t that he’d wanted a kid that young, but they could have made anything work. They’d been committed to each other and in love. Or so he’d thought.

“Let me finish, please. As soon as I suspected I was pregnant, I went to the free clinic and they confirmed it. Barely a week later, I ended up having a miscarriage. It was bad. There was a lot of blood and . . .” She shuddered and it took all his restraint not to pull her into his arms.

He didn’t know much about miscarriages, but he knew enough. And she would have dealt with it alone, because God knew her mother wouldn’t have been there for her. His stomach twisted at the thought of her dealing with everything by herself. Why hadn’t she told him? He’d have been there for her in a heartbeat.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he rasped out, unable to understand. And why had she broken up with him?

“I thought it was my fault,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I didn’t want a baby, didn’t want to saddle either of us with one. We were so young and you were getting ready to leave. I had a lot of dreams, none of which involved becoming a mom that young. I . . . I just wanted it gone. I wished for it.” She looked away from him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

He wanted to be angry at what she said, but hell, they’d been young with big dreams. He wasn’t sure that he’d have wanted a kid that young either. “You’re not God! You didn’t make it happen!” Why was he shouting? Shit, the last thing she probably needed was his anger, but hell, she’d gone through all that alone and hadn’t come to him? Hadn’t trusted him enough? That was why she’d walked away? A logical voice in his head told him that it wasn’t about him, but damn it.

Her head snapped back around. “I know that now, but I didn’t then. I could barely handle the guilt of everything. I shut down, didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially you. It took years for me to come to terms with realizing I didn’t actually do anything to make it happen. Some days I still struggle with that reality, that it wasn’t really my fault. And I was depressed, something I also didn’t realize at the time. I was seventeen, had no real family support system, and you were leaving for the Corps. The one woman I would have turned to for advice was your abuela, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her being disappointed in me, so that was out.”

“You could have come to me.” How did she not know that? He slid off the chair, needing to put distance between them.