Avenging Us - Gina Whitney Page 0,8
a white closed door and put me down. I twisted the silver knob and opened the door. “Oh my god. What did you do?” Nursery. I turned to those naughty smiling eyes through his sooty lashes. I hoped the baby would favor his bright green eyes.
Today there were no demons…only love.
He grabbed my hand and held it to his heart—a gesture he often did when he was emotional and chose to blow it off. “You can change anything you’d like. It’s a start.” He shrugged. “I heard mother’s like to nest. So there’s plenty of time for you to decorate how you’d like.” His face feigned indifference. However, I knew nothing would please him more than to have a hand in helping.
I threw my arms around him and squeezed tightly for the man he was already, and the father I knew he would be. The sound of his strong heart proved to be a constant comfort. “I’d like to nest with you.” I kissed his lips, sucking on my favorite piercing. “Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out, Mr. Gunner…you go and do this.”
He smiled and his eyes flickered mischievously. He often talked about me being responsive to his touch, but he was like a cat. One touch and he purred, shooting a throb straight to my core. I’d have plenty of time to thank him properly. I walked over to the painted mural of Little Bo Peep and her sheep. The sun hit it on an angle and it appeared to be textured…almost 3D. Girl.
He stood, arms folded against the door jam. His T-shirt rode up just a little to expose the fine line of heavenly hair that disappeared into his waistband. My eyes focused on him. He raised a single brow and I regained my composure. The opposite wall was masculine and very Abel Gunner. A painted replica of the guitar that Abel owned with a matching microphone stand—a bandana tied around it that read “Lethal Abel.” Baby musical notes like Zzzzzzz’s over a sleeping babe adorned the wall above the painting. Boy, I gushed.
Abel’s dimpled smile grabbed my heart when he pointed up with his thumb. I looked at the ceiling and regarded thousands of tiny stars that danced above a full moon. Wishes. My eyes watered and I tried to hold it together. However, something shook the foundation I stood on.
The room’s only piece of furniture was a single, white-washed antique rocking chair. My hand fell along the high back and I walked around to take a seat. It was surprisingly comfortable. My eyes met his and he answered before I asked. “It was my mother’s. Mine.” He threw out casually. “She used to rock me to sleep in it. Apparently, I wasn’t a good sleeper.” He walked over to where I sat and bent down. “You don’t have to use it. My mom offered, and I thought maybe you’d like it. But it’s all good, babe.” He half-smiled and it shook something in me.
I thought about the words he said and the pained look on his face. I mean, who wouldn’t want something of his. I would treasure it. “Of course I want it. It’s yours. I want everything that’s yours. Are you kidding me?” I shook my head in amazement. And then it all hit me. He had already anticipated my response. After all, he was not only my fiancé, but my loving Dom. The one who knew my thoughts before I had them.
The sound of my heart whooshing blood through my veins. And then little white bursts started to close in. I tried to focus on his colorful tatted arms. Something. Anything. It was no use. This was bigger than me. Bigger than us. His arms found mine and pulled me to the floor in one fluid motion. It was official. I had nothing from my childhood. No scribblings. No baby pictures. No class pictures. No jewelry. Not even a lousy baby dish. I had nothing to pass down to my own child. I had absolutely nothing. And there we sat…me in his lap on a carpet of ABCs and I sobbed. My heart broke into a tiny million pieces of nothingness. The steeled drawer in my mind I had locked up tight reopened. My heart grew heavy for the childhood I missed. The family I never experienced, and the love never offered. A shaken mess, I looked up at him and studied his eyes. The eyes that spoke the