Under His Protection

Chapter 76: Cracks in the Armor

Travis stood in the kitchen, cradling a plate of toast in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee in the other. He'd barely slept, but it wasn't like that was new. He glanced over his shoulder, watching Taylor where she sat curled in the corner of the couch, wearing one of his oversized hoodies. Her knees were drawn to her chest, and her gaze was distant.

"Sunshine," he called softly, setting the plate and mug down on the coffee table.

She blinked and turned to him, her expression unreadable.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, crouching down to her level. "You need to eat something."

Taylor shook her head, burying her face in her knees. "Not hungry."

Travis sighed, his chest tightening. This was the third time today she'd refused food. But he couldn't let her keep spiraling. Without a word, he slipped his arms under her knees and back, lifting her with ease.

"Travis!" she yelped, clutching his hoodie as he carried her to the kitchen table.

"You're gonna eat, Sunshine," he said, his voice firm but still gentle. "I'm not letting you starve yourself."

Taylor sat in his lap, her head resting against his chest as he carefully held a fork to her mouth. She hesitated but eventually opened up, letting him feed her.

"There you go," he murmured, his tone soothing as if he were coaxing a child.

The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on him. It wasn't the kind of tenderness he'd imagined sharing with her when they first fell in love, but it was what she needed now.

As she finished the last bite, she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You don't have to thank me, Tay," he said, kissing her temple. "This is what we do. We take care of each other."

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Taylor wouldn't let go of him for more than a minute, her grip on his arm tightening any time he tried to step away.

When they moved from the living room to the bedroom, Travis had to carry her again. She didn't protest, only clinging to him as if he were her lifeline.

As he settled her onto the bed, her hands reached for him, her voice shaky. "Don't leave."

"I'm not leaving," he assured her, sitting beside her and running his fingers through her hair.

Her breathing evened out eventually, and he thought she'd fallen asleep. But her voice broke the silence.

"Do you still love me?"

The question hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Of course I love you, Sunshine," he said immediately, his voice thick with emotion.

"Even now? When I'm like this?"

"Especially now," he said, pulling her closer. "You're my everything, Tay. Don't ever doubt that."

That night, after Taylor finally fell asleep, Travis sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. The weight of everything pressed down on him-Taylor's condition, the twins being far away, the fact that he hadn't had a moment to himself in weeks.

His chest tightened, and he struggled to draw in a deep breath. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stave off the tears threatening to fall.

He couldn't break. Not now. Not when Taylor needed him.

But the cracks were there, and he could feel them widening with each passing day.

The next morning, Taylor was more clingy than usual. She wouldn't even sit on the couch unless Travis was holding her. He carried her to the kitchen again, feeding her breakfast before settling her on the balcony for some fresh air.

As he held her in his lap, she traced circles on his chest with her finger.

"Do you think I'll ever be normal again?" she asked softly.

"You're already perfect," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him.

She didn't respond, but the small smile on her lips told him she believed him, at least for now.

When evening came, Travis sat on the balcony alone while Taylor napped inside. His head was pounding, and his chest felt like it was in a vice. He knew he couldn't keep going like this, but the thought of asking for help felt like admitting failure.

For now, all he could do was take it one day at a time, holding on to the hope that things would get better.