Destroyed

Clara looked over her shoulder, grinning. “I want fish and chips. But I don’t want to eat Nemo, so make sure the fisherman doesn’t kill him.”

Fox shook his head, eyes glowing with love.

He’ll make an amazing father.

I flinched, taking in the domestic bliss in front of me. Despite his touching issue, Fox was perfect. Strong enough to protect, wealthy enough to provide, fierce enough to love with everything bared.

His snowy eyes met mine, and my stomach tripped over itself. The message he sent was lust. He wanted me. For the past three nights, I’d sneaked into his room once Clara was asleep, and I let him tie my hands before giving me all of himself. He fucked me, but made love to me. He gave me sweet and gentle wrapped up in brutal violence.

My heart fluttered, responding to his unspoken request. I wanted him, too. Not just now, but for always.

I want this. All of it.

Forever.

My heart switched from fluttering weightlessly to plummeting like a stone. My eyes fell on Clara. I hated my sad thoughts. I despised the weakness and perpetual grief.

Nothing lasted forever. I just had to embrace every moment I could and prepare myself for pain at the end. I would miss her like I would miss my own soul, but I would live on.

I would be the universe for another child who needed me.

The pregnancy had thrown my world off balance, and I hadn’t found my feet in this new gravity.

Fox deserved to know about the new life inside me—perhaps it would be enough for him to keep his sanity when Clara was gone.

You know that’s not true. Not possibly true.

Clara would rip a chunk of our hearts out, and we’d never be the same. My shining star would burn out and leave us in the dark.

Roan stood, pushing his chair back. The energy in the room increased as he moved toward me. My skin sparked in anticipation of his touch; my body warmed, preparing for his possession.

And then it shattered.

Clara coughed. Nothing huge, nothing scary or major. I thought nothing of it.

But the silence afterward sent icicles stabbing into my flesh. My eyes flew to her, almost in slow motion.

More icicles stabbed my limbs, drawing forth agony and terror.

Clara’s legs went from kicking in the air to sprawled, her little elbows gave way, and her head thunked against the carpet.

“No!” Shit.

Shoving past Roan, I threw myself onto the carpet and gathered her rigid form into my arms. Her little body was a plank of rigid wood. Her eyes rolled back, white and vacant. Her lips opened and closed fruitlessly trying to drag oxygen into her body.

“What the fuck?” Fox slammed to the floor beside me. His large presence crowded me, making me claustrophobic.

“Get back. She can’t breathe!” I hoisted her torso upright, willing her to suck in a breath. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on. You can do it. Please. Not yet. Come on.” Her lungs wheezed and clattered as a smidgen of air got through.

“Give her to me,” Fox demanded, shoving me aside to spread Clara onto her back. I toppled sideways, tears distorting my vision. “Call 111.” His blazing blizzard eyes met mine. “Go!”

Scrambling to my feet, I ran back to the room I shared with my rapidly fading daughter and upended the bag Clue had packed for us. Clothes, toiletries, and cuddly toys went flying. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

I shoved aside items frantically until my fingers latched around the asthma inhaler. Charging upright, I raced back to the office.

Fox had one hand pinching her nose while he breathed a lungful of air into Clara’s mouth. Her chest rose, then fell as he leaned back and pressed the heel of his hand against her bony chest.

“That won’t work. She needs this. She needs the medicine.” I shoved his shoulder, causing him to shoot a hand out to stay upright. His back tensed as he fought whatever urges he dealt with.

Positioning my hand behind her neck, I looked into Clara’s rolling, panicked eyes. “Suck in, okay? You know how to do this.” A flicker of life returned to her gaze, and I pushed the inhaler past her blue-tinged lips.

Fox looked like a black-hole beside me, trembling with rage and dread.

“What’s happening to her?” he growled.

Ignoring him, I pressed the trigger, administering a cloud of medicine into Clara’s mouth. She wheezed, gulping what she could.

But it wasn’t enough.

Hot scalding fear replaced my blood as her little hand clawed at her throat. Her lips turned from blue to indigo.

“Lay her down,” Fox snapped.

“She can’t breathe like that!”

“Just do it!” Fox yanked Clara from me and placed her on her back again. Planting his massive scarred hand over her chest, he pushed down hard. Glaring, he ordered, “Do it again.”

With shaking hands, I placed the inhaler in Clara’s lips and stabbed the plunger. Fox slowly removed the pressure from Clara’s chest, effectively dragging the medicine into her lungs by manual force.

A second ticked past, then another.

“One day, when I grow up, I want to be a doctor, so I can stop people coughing like me.”

The memory came and went so fast, I barely acknowledged it. But my heart died with terror—I couldn’t let her go. No!

I couldn’t stand it. I had to give her another dose. I had to save her.

Then the silence was broken by her spluttering and sucking in greedy lungfuls of oxygen. She lurched off the carpet like a drowning survivor, drinking in air as fast as she could.

I slumped in massive relief, then sucked back tears as a bout of coughing hit, reminding me this time she’d stayed alive. But the next or the next…

Don’t think about it.

All I cared about was that she was alive and breathing again. I needed to stay strong and not focus on the unchangeable future.

Awareness filled Clara’s eyes and tears welled. She reached for me, and I dragged her into my lap. “I don’t like it, mummy. When will it stop?”

My stomach clenched. I sat rocking, peppering her forehead with kisses. “You’re okay. It’s alright. Breathe.”

Clara’s breathing slowly changed from rattling to smooth, and she rested her heavy head on my shoulder. Her body heat comforted me—reminding me I hadn’t lost her yet.

I didn’t know how much time passed as I drowned in memories of her. The joy on her face when I painted our bedroom with purple horses, the way her face screwed up when she sneakily stole a sip wine. Everything about her had been three dimensional animation. And it killed me to watch her fade to crackling black and white.

A lone tear slid down my face as I rocked and stared into the past. I lost track of where I was. I lost track of Fox. All I focused on was my slumbering daughter, balled tight and fragile in my arms.

My arms couldn’t hold her hard enough. I wished all my health and strength could filter into her through osmosis. I cursed God that I couldn’t trade my life for hers. The lump of terror that’d replaced my heart hung heavy and unbeating in my chest.

I jumped a mile when a shadow prowled in front of me. Fox dragged his hands through his hair, pacing with fury that sparked in the gloom around him. “I’ve given you time. I’ve sat here for the past hour watching you rock your sick child to sleep. I told myself to leave. To let you have time together. I’ve told myself I shouldn’t care this much for a child that I’ve only just met. I’ve told myself so many fucking things…”

He stopped and faced me with furious features. “But then I stopped telling myself things and decided I would stay. I decided that no matter what happens, I belong to you and that little girl, and I have the right to know what the hell is going on.”

Pointing at Clara fast asleep in my arms, he growled, “Start speaking. I know there’s something wrong with her, and I know you’ve been keeping it from me. Fuck, Hazel, even the kid knows she’s on limited time, yet you thought you could hide it from me?”

Clara made no move to wake, but I pressed a hand over her ear. “Keep your voice down.”

He scowled. “She’s not going to hear me. Can’t you tell the difference between normal sleep and sleep so deep you wouldn’t hear an atomic bomb explode? No? Well, why would you after your perfect life instead of being a prisoner where every sleep you rested like the dead hoping, praying, that you’d never wake up.”

His anger whipped me until I felt sure I bled from lacerations. He cut my soul just like Clara tore out my heart. “Don’t make me tell you. Not with her in my arms.”

Please.

I knew it was coming. I knew it would happen. I’d tried to prepare, to face the end with strength and even a trace of bittersweet happiness at the thought of her no longer being in pain. But I hadn’t been strong enough.

Sucking in a breath, I muttered, “I’ll tell you, but give me time.”

Keeping his voice low, he whisper-shouted with pent-up rage. “No more time, dobycha. Now. I want answers. Now.”

What could I say? I knew this day would come; I had hoped I could pick the opportunity and circumstance, which was ridiculous considering Clara had so very little time. I had so much to tell him.

Time had run out. For all of us. It wasn’t fair. None of it. A man I loved hated me. A child I adored was leaving me. I just wanted to lie down and indulge in waves of self-pity.

He’ll hate me.

But he deserved to know. I should’ve told him the night he shared his story. That would’ve been the correct thing to do.

I waited for the crushing guilt of keeping it from him, but a chill entered my bloodstream, granting an eerie peace instead. I was numb. Numb to the new life inside me. Numb to what Fox would say.

The only thing that entered my self-imposed numbness was my anger and grief about Clara.

“I’m going to own a horse when I grow up. Lots and lots of them. Including Pegasus.” Clara’s sweet voice ran around my head.

I looked up into his blizzard eyes. It was time for the truth. Time to break Fox’s heart.

He leaned over me, looking menacing and cold. His energy slapped me with seething anger. “Tell me.”

Before I could open my mouth, he stormed away and dragged another hand over his face. “Look, I’m sorry for being so fucking angry, and I want to console you and fucking support you—but you’ve been keeping this from me and I’m pissed.”

Spinning around, he faced me like a black hurricane. “So tell me the truth. What the fuck is wrong with her?”

I tried to stay strong, but angry tears leaked from the corner of my eyes. Making sure my hand was tight across her little ear and her eyes remained closed in sleep, I snarled, “She has PPB.”

“And what the fuck is that?” Fox growled.

Don’t say the C word. Don’t say it. It’ll make it true. Pretend. Forgot.

“It’s short for Pleuropulmonary Blastoma. She’s—”

Fox froze. “Cancer?”

I hung my head, fighting the tears, cursing my wobbling frame. Sucking a deep breath, I spat out the entire truth, the history, the fear, reeling it off as fast as I could. “I told you I bought her the star necklace on her fourth birthday. I couldn’t afford it, but I had to buy it. That was the first day she was admitted to the hospital from a coughing fit. She was so scared. So freaked out. After she was discharged, I would’ve done anything to battle away the terror in her eyes from almost suffocating to death.

“The next time was only a few months later. She’d gone from a healthy toddler to active child who would suddenly collapse in a coughing fit. She was diagnosed with severe asthma. We were given inhalers and oxygen purifiers and told to avoid certain foods. And for a while, it seemed to work.

“A few years went by with the occasional episode and two more journeys to the ER. Clara was a trooper. Never complaining, so strong willed and amazingly happy considering she had an array of tablets and inhalers to take and use every morning.”