chapter 22

We sat in silence in the tub, her back pressed against my chest, my left hand resting on her waist. Too many thoughts crashed through my mind. Why would Peyton train in the rain? Even if she was hurting, I was hurting more. I had to do everything to make sure she was okay—and she didn’t even seem to care how I was surviving.

We had both lost Mia, yet it felt like she didn’t care how I was coping, didn’t care about my feelings at all.

“Hun, are you okay?” She turned to face me.

I tightened my grip on her waist. “Yes, baby. All I know is that I love you. You’re the only one I have left in this world.”

“Shhh, I’m here now. Peyton’s back,” she whispered, then kissed me—light at first, gentle. Her arms slid around my neck as the kiss deepened, her tongue finding mine. I moaned softly. Her right hand drifted down to my cock; she wrapped her fingers around me and began to stroke, never breaking eye contact.

“Ahh, Peyton…” I breathed.

She kissed my neck, my cheek, then found my nipples, sucking gently while her hand worked me harder. She knew exactly what that did to me—how vulnerable I became when she teased me like this.

“Hmmm…” I groaned. God, I had missed her so much.

She returned to my mouth, kissing deeper, stroking faster. I gripped the edge of the tub, my body tensing as release built.

“Fuck, baby—yes, please don’t stop,” I gasped.

She was too good at this. Her mouth stayed locked on mine when the pleasure finally broke me. I cried out, trembling as I came hard.

“Oh fuck…” I shuddered. “Ahhh, fuck.”

She smiled against my lips and kissed me again, soft and slow.

“I love you, Richard.”

“I love you too,” I murmured, then kissed her deeply—like I was pouring my entire soul into her. If only she knew how much.

After the bath, we slipped into fresh, clean joggers—perfect for the chilly evening—and sat side by side at the dining table. That night I’d made steak, sausages with sauce, and some healthy sandwiches. Simple, warm, comforting.

“Wow, hun, the steak is so tasty—so delicious,” she said, eyes bright with real happiness.

“I’m glad you like it.”

She cut a small piece, turned to me, and held it up. “Ha, open.”

I did. She fed me, then watched my face for a moment before chuckling softly. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I loved seeing her happy—or at least pretending to be—and I prayed it wasn’t just an act.

“What is it?” she asked. “Something on my face?”

“No. I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

“Okay, here—eat some sausage.” She pointed another piece at my mouth. I took it, then leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She caught my chin gently and kissed me back, light and sweet.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That evening was one of the best in years. Every moment with my wife felt alive again, like she had truly come back to me. It was beautiful.

But beneath it all, I was already fractured. The dream of Mia from earlier that day lingered—her cries echoing in my skull. Every time I looked at Peyton, every time I wanted to lose myself in her as my wife, the flashbacks came: sharp, uninvited, relentless.

This was my silent battle.

That night the weather was cold and perfect. The lights were dim, just enough to soften the edges of the room. I was half asleep, sinking into the warmth of the bed sheets, when I felt Peyton’s hands on me—gentle at first, then stroking the fabric across my chest. She pressed closer, her body molding to mine. Her legs slid between my thighs, finding my cock, teasing it awake as she pressed a slow, wet kiss to my neck, licking and sucking softly.

“Mmmm…” I moaned, turning to face her immediately.

She captured my lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Soon she was on top of me, rocking gently against my growing hardness, her hands slipping under my shirt to find my nipples. I gasped at the sharp pleasure. She kissed down my neck again, then found my ear, her breath hot.

“Let me make it up to you,” she whispered, her tongue tracing the shell of my ear before she licked lightly at the corner of my eye.

My gaze drifted to the side of the bed—and just like that, Mia flashed into my mind. Her face. Her cries. My heart shattered all over again. Restlessness flooded me, cold and heavy.

I gently rolled Peyton onto her back and kissed her—light, tender, careful.

“You don’t have to do anything, my love,” I murmured, brushing strands of hair from her face. “You don’t have to do anything at all. I love you. I’m with you—for better or worse.”

I rolled onto my back, pulling her with me until she rested fully on my chest, her head tucked under my chin, her heartbeat steady against mine.

“Sleep now, my love.”

I couldn’t bring myself to make love to her. Not tonight. Mia was still haunting me—ever since that dream, I hadn’t been the same. Guilt coated every thought. I felt like a fraud for even letting things heat up when I knew Peyton was still suffering too. I could barely hold myself together, let alone risk telling her the truth about what really happened that day.

If she knew, she’d leave me. She loved Mia so much—she’d hate me forever. And I couldn’t survive that. She was the only family I had left in the world. She was my everything.

I jolted awake from a dream I couldn’t even recall—only the echo of her name remained.

Mia.

Sweat soaked my shirt, my skin clammy and cold. I turned my head. Payton was already fast asleep on her side of the bed, curled away from me, breathing slow and even. Quietly, I slipped out from under the sheets and padded to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind me. I turned the lock.

In front of the vanity mirror, the dam broke.

Tears came hard and silent at first, then in ugly, choking sobs I tried to muffle against my forearm.

My baby. My Mia. My love.

God, how I missed her. The ache lived deep in my chest, sharp and endless.

I could still see every detail of her: the way her whole face lit up when I walked through the door after work, tiny arms reaching, that bubbling giggle that demanded I scoop her up and spin her until we were both dizzy with laughter. She smelled like milk and baby powder and pure sunshine.

Why?

Why my baby?

She was so innocent. So small. She hadn’t even had the chance to taste life, to know anything beyond our arms and our voices and the soft cradle of her crib.

She didn’t deserve to be taken. Not like that. Not so soon.

I would have given her the world.

Everything she ever wanted. Every dream I could’ve dreamed for her.

A soft knock.

“Hello? Richard? Are you in there?”

Payton’s voice cut through the fog.

Panic surged. I twisted the faucet on full blast, the rush of water loud enough to cover the hitch in my breathing. I splashed cold water over my face, scrubbed at my eyes, and tried to erase the evidence.

“Yeah, baby,” I called back, voice steadier than I felt. “I’m in here.”

“Why’d you lock the door? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love. Just… taking a shit.” The lie tasted sour. “What are you doing awake?”

“I reached over and you weren’t there. I got worried.”

I forced a small laugh that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m good, sweetheart. Go back to bed. I’ll be right there.”

A pause. Then, softly: “Alright, dear.”

Her footsteps retreated.

I stood there a moment longer, staring at the stranger in the mirror—red-rimmed eyes, hollow cheeks. I splashed more water on my face, dried it roughly with a towel, and drew in a long, shaky breath.

When I slipped back into the bedroom, Payton was still awake, propped on one elbow, watching the doorway.

“Babe,” I said quietly as I climbed in beside her, “why aren’t you sleeping?”

She reached out, fingertips brushing my chin, searching my face. “I just needed to know you’re okay.”

I caught her hand, pressed my lips to her palm. “I’m fine, baby. Come here.”

I pulled her close until her head rested on my chest. My fingers moved slowly through her hair, smoothing it again and again like a lullaby I was trying to believe.

“Sleep now, my love,” I whispered into the dark. “Everything’s okay.”

She sighed, soft and trusting, and nestled deeper against me.

Her breathing evened out within minutes.

But my eyes stayed open, fixed on the ceiling, listening to the silence where Mia’s laughter used to live.