My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8) - Tillie Cole Page 0,19

not to touch anyone or the evil inside me would hurt them. I let her down. I took her hand when I shouldn’t have. Then when she died. I held Isaiah.” A tear fell from Flame’s eye and dropped to the floor. His face did not move. I did not believe he even realized he was crying. “I sang to him, Maddie. I tried to make him better.” My face crumpled with sorrow, and I desperately wanted to embrace my husband. To relieve him of the guilt that still lay heavily on his heart. “I rocked him.” His eyes grew wide, and with a lost soul’s innocence he asked, “What if… what if I sing to our baby? If I rocked them… and they died because of me?” Flame shook his head, his midnight hair dusting the wooden floor. “I can’t be a papa, Maddie. I don’t know how to be one.”

This was where we could share a fear. “Baby?” I said gently. My lip trembled. I needed to hold him. No, this time I needed him to hold me. “I… I need you.”

Flame froze. Watched me. I let a tear fall too. Flame’s hand followed it to where it had landed. The salty drop coated his fingertip. “You’re sad,” he stated. He moved his head so close to me I could feel the heat from his cheeks. “You’re sad because of me? Because I’ll hurt the baby?”

“No,” I countered as sternly as I could manage. “I am sad because I want your touch. I want you to hold me.”

Flame’s jaw clenched, indecision played out on his face—a cheek twitch, the widening of eyes, his tongue licking his pierced lips. “The baby,” he whispered.

“Is safe.” I took in a deep breath. “Our child is safe within me. Nothing will hurt him or her, baby. Especially not you.” I smiled through my sadness, a ray of warm sun through a storm cloud. “You are its papa.” Flame’s breathing sped up, his chest rising and falling in quick movements. “He or she already loves you.”

Flame completely stilled. “How do you know?” His voice shook with uncertainty.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “I feel it, Flame. Since the moment I realized I was with child, I’ve felt an abundance of love.”

Slowly, Flame’s hand moved toward my stomach. Palm on the floor, he lifted his index finger and, as gently as could be, ran it over my nightgown. I could not remove my eyes from him as he waited, breath held, for something to happen. When nothing did, when he saw I was still breathing, still retained color in my face, he gently touched my nightgown that covered my stomach. It was not his hand cradling my naked bump, but it was a start. Flicking his gaze to mine, he said, “I heard my mama when she had Isaiah. She screamed. It hurt her.” Flame shook his head. “I can’t hear you in that much pain.”

“It will be worth it,” I said. “After the pain, comes our baby. Our baby, Flame. Ours. A miracle we never knew we would be blessed with.”

Flame was silent, and I knew he was absorbing those words. “I need you,” I repeated, but this time failed to hold back the tears that threatened to consume me.

“Maddie.” Flame reached for my hand. The moment our hands met, I felt a rush of warmth infuse my body. With Flame’s touch I breathed easier. I felt complete in a way I never had until I let my heart open to this man. “Don’t cry,” he begged.

I held on to his hand like a lifeline. Shifting closer, I absorbed his warmth and the smell of leather that always stuck to his skin. It was as comforting to me as the sound of a crackling fire on a cold night. “I am scared too,” I confessed. Flame searched my face. I knew he needed more. “You fear you will not be a good father. I fear I will not be a good mother.”

“You will,” he said, and I knew he believed it with all that he was.

“I had no parents that raised me. I was hurt from childhood, just like you.” I sniffed back my wrought emotions. “Some days I feel as though I will never be normal. Some days the memories of the past, of Brother Moses and how he hurt me, are so heavy that they consume me.” Flame shifted from sorrow to rage in a second. Just the