"You might think I'd never do that, but every time I'm a suspect, it's going to make you reevaluate. How well do you know me? How much can you trust me? I'm a guy you met a few months ago, and now you're living with me, sleeping beside me, trusting me, and maybe that's too much. Maybe it's all too much, and it's just not worth it."
I put my hand under his chin and bring my face to his. "It is completely worth it," I say, and press my lips against his. "I have no intention of leaving, but that's not really what this is about. It's the reality that I could. That you'd be hurt if I did."
He nods, and I curl up in his arms.
"I'm hardly an expert," I say, "but I think that's just part of falling in love. You realize you don't want to lose someone. That it would hurt if you did. I'm not used to that either. When I walked away from my life, there was only one person I regretted leaving, and even that was just regret. Losing you would hurt--really hurt--so I just ... I try not to think of it."
"I can't stop thinking of it. I obsess over it. And the worst thing? Feeling like it's not totally about me. It's not under my control. What if you decide it's not safe here? What if you miss being down south? What if the council makes you leave?"
He shifts to look at me. "Remember when you helped me deal with their threat to kick me out? Come up with a game plan? That helped--a lot. That's what I need to do with this. Have a strategy in case you need to leave, and it's not about me. I've decided I would give it a try. Life down south."
"What?"
He leans back and shrugs, like this is no big deal. As if this isn't the very reason the council's threat works. As if this isn't the reason he backed out of relationships before they got serious. Because he has no intention of leaving the north. Ever.
"I could do it," he says.
"No," I say. "Absolutely not. I would never ask--"
"But I'd do it, if I wasn't the reason you were leaving. I can't promise it'd work. But I could try."
I want to keep arguing, but his expression warns me not to. He's made this decision, and that's as much a relief as his backup plan for building a new Rockton.
Instead, I say, "If you're honestly worried about me being frightened out of Rockton, that's bullshit. Being a homicide detective isn't a safe or easy job anywhere. I knew that when I signed on--down there and up here."
I continue, "As for that talk I wanted to have earlier, it wasn't about moving too fast. Not at all. It was something Petra said about Storm. She was joking about a puppy being a starter baby."
"Huh?"
"That having a pet together was a trial run for a baby."
"What?" He shakes his head. "That's not the same thing. Not even close. Yeah, I'm not going to lie, saying Storm is a work dog was mostly an excuse. I gave her to you because
you wanted a dog. But starter baby? Hell, no. Do couples actually do that shit down south?"
"I have no idea." I pull my legs up under me. "What I really wanted to talk about, though, wasn't whether you intended Storm as a baby trial run, but to just ... discuss it. We're living together. We're in a committed relationship. Petra suggested it's better to have the baby conversation sooner rather than later. She's right. Especially in this case." I take a deep breath. "I can't have kids."
He nods. "Sure. I get that. If you don't want kids, you don't want them, and no one should try to change your mind."
"No, I mean I can't have them."
He looks at me, and under that look, I feel my tears prickle. This is another of those things in my life that I deal with through avoidance. Just don't think about. Now I have to. And it hurts.
"The attack," I say. "The damage. I can't..."
"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I wasn't getting it. Just wasn't getting it. I'm so sorry. Fucking stupid."
"You're never stupid." I kiss him and say, "Also, for the record? I love you."
He hugs me tight, and we sit like that for a while. Then I say, "We could try. Not now, obviously. But at some point, we could, if that's what you wanted. The doctor says there's a chance I could get pregnant. It's a very slim chance, though, so I just tell myself I can't. That makes it easier."
He hugs me again, saying nothing for a few minutes, and then, "Having kids has never been one of my goals. I always figured it wouldn't happen, and I'm fine with that. But thank you for telling me."
I manage a wry smile. "Saves us from a really awkward conversation later?"
His arms tighten. "No, I'd just want to know. Whatever you're dealing with, I want to know."
FORTY-SEVEN