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It Can't Be True
Rafe looked down at Talia’s face, twisted with worry. Just moments ago, she looked like she was ready to challenge him and now, she looked at him like she used to those many months ago when he still suffered heavily from the anxiety and panic disorder. Like she was ready to wrap her arms around him and fight his demons away. And he felt…he fought the urge to grab his chest and fold to the floor. He felt tired, like giving up. He felt defeated.
What was wrong? Everything was wrong! Every damn thing!
But he couldn’t say that to her. He couldn’t risk her life—his children’s lives for a nightmare that should never have happened. The guilt weighed so heavily on him, hell, he wanted to curl up on the floor and die.
It was his fault, it was all his fault. She was right to hate him. He hated himself! And if it wasn’t for them, this family that was currently carried in Talia’s body, the only one out of the two he
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Talia pushed herself off the bed, feeling more rested than she had in days—actually, months. That stunned her. She’d had a peaceful sleep, and with no nightmares! That was strange. It felt strange, waking up feeling like jelly and not stiff and sore. Then she remembered how she got in bed and a slight shiver ran through her. That was even stranger.Rafe had put her to bed and he acted like it was normal. It was like the past few days of tension and fighting hadn’t happened. She tip toed—why, she had no idea—to the door and gently placed her hand on the round rosette door handle that she’d awed over the first time she’d seen it. Everything about the condo, everything about Rafe was quality, expensive and high maintenance. The man was the definition of the finest things in life and she’d wanted him and everything he had, everything that made him, him, especially his love. He loved as fiercely as he did everything
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