Blood Love

Then: One Week Later

He wasn't completely sure how it happened. It was just one of those things; a series of blurred, hazy events filled with intensity and throwing his mind for a loop and ending in even greater confusion. One minute he was looking at strollers and then the next everything was so, so wrong.

            And it was all his fault. All his fault.

            The secret lasted for too long. He knew from the first time he snuck out that waiting would be worst. Not telling her, not saying anything, would make it fester like a wound and the minute he decided to go scratching at it, that wound would bleed. Profusely. Continuously.

            And he wouldn't be able to stop it.

            Four years later and there he was, standing in the kitchen with his emotional and pregnant girlfriend, feeling like he was about to be rolled over by a tank and then splattered with bullets.

            "For the last fricking time, Jason," she began in a low, toneless voice, "Where did you? And where have you always gone?"

            He swallowed hard. "I'm not cheating—"

            "Oh, I know. Believe me, I know." She shuffled toward him, and his throat bobbed, and she was like one of those predators who smelled fear and pounced on it. She could probably smell his.

            And then, before he could even gather another thought, she unceremoniously punched him in the ribs.

            "Dammit!" he hissed, sucking in a sharp breath. Hayley's eyes narrowed and he realized what he'd just revealed by doubling over so dramatically. Ignoring the pain best he could, he straightened, holding her steely gaze.

            The uproarious fire in her eyes was inextinguishable. The green of her irises might as well have been glowing. "You lied to me," she croaked. "Over and over again."

            Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the fact that he held the state of their relationship in his hands, but clearly it wasn't the sensible part or he would have proceeded with a lot more caution and tact. "I didn't lie, I just . . . I just didn't tell you."

            She threw her hands in the air. "He says it like that's so much better!"

            "Hayley, I was just trying to protect you—"

            A sharp laugh cut the rest of his sentence off. "Protect me? Protect me? Don't you dare give any of that noble hero bullshit. Who the hell were you trying to keep safe, Jason? Really? Me or you?"

            He said nothing, because he had a feeling this was one of those situations when saying nothing and staying ahead of the already deep hole he'd dug was best.

            She lurched against the kitchen counter abruptly, holding her stomach, sucking in deep breaths. Unconsciously he moved toward her, stopping only when she held up a hand and pierced him with her stare. "Don't come any closer."

            "Hayley—"

            "You promised me, Jason. You promised me you'd give it up. All of it. That we could live—god forbid—that we could live a normal life."

            His only two options were to lie or stay silent, implying his guilt. Lying was no longer a viable option. And even after four years, he thought might know everything there was to know about this woman. But she was a constant surprise. Because he knew her; he knew her angry and sad and hurt and passionate. He knew her frightened. He knew her happy.