Warrior (First to Fight #1)(44)

“Don’t be.” We’re quiet for a few minutes and then he asks, “If I woke you up, I don’t mind sleeping downstairs in case it happens again. It’s pointless of me to be here if you aren’t getting any sleep.”

With the memory of his fear fresh on my mind, I say, “No, it’s okay. I’m used to waking up every couple hours with Cole.”

“Are you sure?” His hand flexes against the bared skin of my waist.

“Yes,” I manage. “Yes, it’s fine.”

“Tell me something,” he says.

“About what?”

He squeezes me tighter. “Anything to get my mind off it. Just talk to me.”

I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you know I started looking into my birth parents?”

“Logan may have mentioned it.”

I shake my head at him. “I swear you three are worse than a bunch of chicks. He learned they were very poor—to the point where child services was called several times. They’d filed bankruptcy a year or so before I was given up. The notes in the file said that my biological father got involved with drugs. There was some sort of incident—they didn’t go into too much detail and I don’t remember it. Anyway, that’s what I’ve learned so far.”

“Did your dad know?”

I nod, before remembering we’re in the dark. “Yes, I told him at the same time I spilled about the pregnancy. He gave me what information he had, which was very little.”

Short-lived relief fills me when I hear him chuckle, before he asks, “How did that go over?”

I think back to that conversation with my dad, how supportive he was, and have to work to speak past the lump forming in my throat. “He actually wasn’t real surprised.”

Ben is quiet for a moment, before I hear him clear his throat. “What made you want to look for them now, after all this time?”

“When I learned I was pregnant, it was just something I felt like I had to know.” My throat burns with emotion. “I can’t help but wonder now that if I’d known my family, maybe I would have had some warning, or some way to prevent Cole’s illness.” I’d known Ben long enough to know his family didn’t have the predisposition for heart conditions.

His hand moves to my hip and he pulls my body closer to him. “Stop. You don’t have to be around that boy for five minutes to know how much he’s loved. You’re a great mom. You don’t need to beat yourself up for things that are out of your control. But I know that’s easier said than done, trust me.”

I wonder what he has to beat himself up about. Does it have to do with his nightmares? His injuries? I ache to know what haunts him, but now probably isn’t the best time to ask.

As he holds onto me in the darkness, I feel myself softening toward him. I should have known there was a reason why he kept himself away from me.

And now I’m determined to find out exactly what it is.

Unable to fall asleep for the fear that he’ll have another nightmare, I listen to the sound of his breathing until the sun streams in through the windows. I scooch down the bed, trying not to wake him as I slither out of his hold. I nearly manage to make it free when his fingers tighten around me.

“Where are you goin’?”

“Check on Cole. Make breakfast.” Escape the warm, fluttery feeling that’s come back to life in my stomach after spending a night pressed up against him.

“He awake?”

I gulp. His voice is all morning-rough and gravelly. The cocoon of us under the sheets is too enticing. “No, but I still want to check on him, just in case.”

“You can, but I want a minute with you first.”

“Everything okay?”

His thumb begins a lazy pattern on my stomach. “Everything’s fine. First time I’ve woken up actually feeling like I got some sleep.”

“No more nightmares?” For some reason, I find myself holding my breath. It could be the fact that I want him to be okay. Or the slow heat that’s begun to build in my stomach. Maybe a heady combination of both.

“Nah. Slept like a baby with you next to me.”

His candid statement steals the breath from my lungs. “Good,” I manage.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice low.

“For what?”

“For chasing away my demons.”

The hand on my stomach urges me to turn until I’m facing him. He looks so innocent with his face soft in half-sleep, his eyes a darker shade of blue in the morning. My fingers go to his chest and I note the new scars marring the skin there. I finger one of them, remembering how angry he was when he came home from his last deployment and the look on his face when he woke from his nightmare.

I open my mouth to ask about them, once and for all, but his hand slips from my hip to cup the weight of my ass and the words get stuck in my throat. The pain in my side and shoulder diminish underneath a rush of desire so potent that my entire body tenses.

“Ben?”

A small smile curves his lips. Lips that are inching their way closer and closer to my lips. And then his mouth brushes mine. There aren’t words to describe how it feels to be able to touch him again, to kiss him, after all this time. Despite all that’s changed between us, despite the months that have passed, I feel like a part of me has come home. For that reason, I melt against him, finally, and kiss him back.