That wasn’t the expression he’d planned to leave on his new bride’s face the first time he’d taken her to his bed...
He stepped under the hot spray of water and rested his palms on the wall behind the faucet, dipping his head to bear the full force of the spray.
Hell.
He should have known. Should have expected he couldn’t just walk into a marriage the way a normal man could. Especially a marriage of convenience like this, where they were plunged into it with barely any emotional preparation. He’d been shot at and felt shells detonate close enough to make his teeth rattle too many times to count. He was partially deaf due to an explosion that had blown to bits some of the fiercest warriors he’d ever had the privilege to fight alongside. He’d been captured and held prisoner by a faction of rebels notorious for their treatment of prisoners. After all he’d been through, after all the damage to his soul, what made him think he could have special things in his life?
Like a marriage.
Like Harper.
He elbowed the tap and the water abruptly ceased, but he didn’t immediately reach for the towel, letting the water drip from his body instead.
He’d have to find a way to apologize to her, to try to make this up to her—if that were even possible. But not tonight, not while he was raw from both the nightmare and waking to see the trauma in her eyes.
He grabbed a towel and roughly rubbed it over his skin until it was dry, and if he was a little overzealous and left red marks, then all the better. Soft and gentle weren’t things he deserved. Not when he’d come out alive and better men had come home in body bags.
Wrapping the towel around his hips, he headed through the door that connected the bathroom to the guest bedroom and stopped short when he saw Harper sitting on the edge of the bed in a fluffy blue robe tied firmly around her middle.
In the gentle light of the bedside lamp, she was so beautiful. Her back was straight, her chin jutting at a proud angle. She looked strong. Sure of her place in the world. Things he couldn’t claim to be anymore. He glanced away.
“Harper, this is not the time.”
She crossed her arms tightly under her breasts, clearly having no intention of going anywhere. “I think this is exactly the time. I have a feeling that if we leave this until morning, it will be even harder to discuss.”
True enough, but he shook his head. “I’m not sure I can discuss it. It is what it is.” Lord knew he’d tried hard enough to pretend otherwise.
“That may be, but we do need to talk,” she said, her gaze on him unwavering. “Because this is not how I see our marriage working.”
He planted his hands low on his hips. “It was just a nightmare, not our entire marriage.”
“We entered into a marriage of convenience. There are already enough obstacles in our way without secrets. I think the only way we’re going to make this whole thing work is if we have honesty and openness between us,” she said, her voice steady, but her eyes asking—hoping for—so much of him.
“We’re doing fine.” The statement was so far from the truth that he was surprised she didn’t laugh in his face.
But she didn’t. Not his Harper. Instead she looked at him with eyes as deep as oceans, as raw and vulnerable as he’d ever seen in another person, and said, “I have to be honest. This feels an awful lot like being rejected on the same night we made love for the first time as a married couple.”
That stung, deep in his chest. She’d told him about her past and her fear of abandonment, and he’d just played right into that fear and made it worse for her. Hell, someone needed to smack him upside the head.
“It’s not you,” he said, knowing the words were clichéd and inadequate. “It’s me.”
“Okay.” She sat up straighter. “Then tell me about you.”
He knew what she meant—tell her about the events that had led to the nightmares. And she was right—as his wife, she deserved to know—but he simply didn’t know if he could say the words aloud. He rubbed his fingers across his forehead, then dug them into his temples.
“Nick, we have a difficult road ahead of us parenting two babies together, and we’re both flying blind because we don’t know much about each other.” She reached for his hand, and he let her take it. “Tell me about this. Help me to understand.”
He flinched. Flying blind—that’s exactly what they were doing, and she deserved more. He sank down onto the bed beside her, his shoulders slightly hunched as he prepared to face the worst. For her.
“Nine—” Everything inside him clenched tight. He cleared his throat and started again. “Nine months ago, I came home from the Middle East. As far as everyone is concerned, I’m a decorated war hero.”
“But you don’t feel like one, do you?” she asked gently.
Yeah, understatement of the century. “The military might have given me a medal, but I’ve always known I didn’t deserve it.”
Her smile was kind. “I don’t think they give those medals out for no reason.”
“Men died while under my command,” he said fiercely. A wave of nausea washed through him, and he pressed a closed fist to his gut to try to stem its progress. Those fine men were gone forever. Their families had lost sons. Children had lost parents. Wives had lost their husbands.