His mouth was tight, his face was hard but his eyes were gentle.
She remembered what happened and whispered, “The baby?”
He leaned forward instantly and in that instant, his expression changed and she saw the pain slash through his features.
And she knew.
She closed her eyes.
“Poppet,” he called and she felt him take her hand.
She turned her head and pulled her hand away.
“Belle, love.”
“Go away,” she whispered, still groggy but now feeling something.
And that something Belle felt was empty.
His hand came to her jaw but he didn’t force her to look at him.
She felt his thumb drift over her cheekbone, slowly, softly.
Then his hand disappeared and, from behind her closed eyelids, she saw the light go out.
She thought he’d leave.
She wanted him to leave.
But instead, she felt her hand taken in his again and his grip went firm when she tried to pull away.
She didn’t have the energy to fight it.
So she kept her face averted and her eyes closed as he held her hand.
Later, she felt his forehead come to rest on their joined hands.
That was when the tears seeped out from between her closed eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack’s Sunday
Jack
Jack woke and the minute he did he knew Belle, who was tucked in the curve of his body, was also awake.
She was always awake before him. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she lay in bed until he woke.
His arm resting at her waist got tight and her body went stiff in response.
He always pulled her closer when he woke. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she grew stiff when he did.
He closed his eyes with frustration.
He knew what the morning would bring and what the day would bring. It had been three and a half weeks since the accident and every day was the same.
Belle had had a concussion, a sprained wrist, some intense bruising and she’d lost their child.