LOGINHis fingers laced through hers, and she felt some of the tension leave his body. He'd been worried about leaving her alone, even for five minutes. Still treating her like she might break.Dr. Shaw said that would fade with time when she had spoken about it. That Nate's hypervigilance was a normal response to trauma, his way of trying to control something that had been completely out of his control. Men like Nate needed control.But Prue sometimes wondered if he'd ever stop looking at her like she was made of glass. He even restrained his lovemaking now, like he worried he was too much for her. But sometimes, like the bathtub incident, he’d been a little rougher and a little more urgent, and she loved it.The party continued around them. More small talk, more champagne, more forced laughter. Paul made a speech about love and commitment that rang hollow coming from a man who'd remarried less than a year after his first wife died. Natasha simpering beside him like a woman half her age."
They made their way through the crowd toward the bar set up in the living room. Prue tried not to notice the way people looked at her, some with curiosity, others with pity. Word had gotten around about the miscarriage, apparently. Small social circles and all that. Prue and Nate had only told Grayson, her father, and Trish, of course, but Paul and Natasha had probably seen no reason not to share the news with their friends.The bartender had set out glasses of champagne and red and white wine. Grayson and Nate each took a glass. Prue shook her head. "Just sparkling water for me, please."The bartender nodded and moved to get her drink.Nate's hand tightened on hers. They'd been trying again. Three months of trying, actually, since Dr. Shaw had cleared her not just physically but emotionally. Three months of hope and then disappointment, of negative pregnancy tests and Prue's period arriving right on time every month.Including this morning.She hadn't told him yet. Hadn't found the r
Five months later.Six months since the miscarriage, and Prue finally felt like herself again. Or at least a version of herself that could function without the fog, without the weight of grief and guilt crushing her chest with every breath.She stood in front of their bedroom mirror, adjusting the straps of her midnight blue dress. The color brought out her eyes, made her skin glow instead of looking washed out. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, blonde and healthy again. She'd even applied makeup, which she hadn’t done a lot over the last six months. The main focus had been her recovery, not just losing the baby but also the trauma and memories of Papua New Guinea.Small steps. That's what Dr. Shaw, her psychiatrist, called them. The little things that proved she was healing. Taking one day at a time.Like being able to look at her reflection without seeing a woman who'd killed her baby. Because everyone was right, it had been an accident.Most nights, the nightmares s
"No." The word came out hard, immediate. "I'm not locking you up. I'm not sending you away."She was quiet for a moment, and he could feel her trying to think."Trish said I was broken," Prue whispered. "That you needed to do what was best for me."His jaw tightened. "You're not broken," he said firmly. "You're hurt. There's a difference. And what's best for you is staying here, with me, while we figure this out together. Not being sent away to some facility where you don't know anyone.""But you told someone you didn't know if you were strong enough." Her voice was small now, uncertain. "To keep doing this."Christ. She'd heard that too. Heard him at his lowest moment, admitting his fears to Grayson."I said that," he admitted quietly. "Because I was scared. Because watching you disappear is the hardest thing I've ever done, and I didn't know if I had the strength to keep going when nothing I did seemed to help." His arm tightened around her. "But that doesn't mean I'm giving up on y
Nate sat at the kitchen table, his phone face-down on the surface, Grayson's words still echoing in his head.He scrubbed both hands over his face, exhaustion pulling at him like a physical weight. Four weeks of this. Four weeks of watching his wife disappear, of second-guessing every decision, of carrying guilt so heavy it made breathing difficult.The psychiatrist appointment was still six days away. Six more days of this half-life, of watching Prue go through the motions without actually living. He didn't know if either of them would make it that long. So he would call and try and arrange an appointment for this Friday. He didn’t care how much it cost.A sound made him lift his head.Prue stood in the kitchen doorway.She was still in her nightgown, her hair hanging limp around her shoulders, the brace stark white against her pale skin.For a moment, neither of them moved. Just stared at each other across the kitchen like strangers trying to remember how they used to speak.Then sh
Prue didn't remember deciding to get up. Didn't remember walking to the door of the guest room or opening it. But suddenly she was standing at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister, the left one, the good one, because her right wrist still throbbed in its brace. She remembered she still had weeks before it wouldn’t hurt so bad.She stared down the stairs, those same stairs she'd fallen down four weeks ago. The stairs she couldn't remember falling down. Just a blank space where the memory should be, and then waking up in the hospital to find out her baby was gone. Ever since the accident there were huge blanks in her memory.Voices drifted up from the kitchen. Nate's voice, low and rough. And another voice, female, concerned.Trish. She had been in her room just now talking to her. Hadn’t she? Was that today or was it yesterday?Prue's feet moved, carrying her down the stairs one careful step at a time. Not because she wanted to join them, but because some part of her brain,
Red: I keep thinking about what you said. About Friday. I don't know if I can wait that long. Call me when you can. If we can't meet at least I'll get to hear your voice.Heat shot through him. He typed back quickly.Sir: I will call within the next two hours. Be ready.Nate was watching him with k
"In the guest room, yeah." Defensiveness crept into Nate's tone. "Look, I know Trish can be intense, but she's family. She's been through everything with me."Grayson nodded, not wanting to push too hard. "I understand. I just... the timing of all this is strange. The messages seem… well, they’re j
The day wore on slowly. Full of meetings. At 4:15PM they were all back in the conference room. Honey made appropriate notes, asked relevant questions, and maintained her professional facade.She and Sir had gone on to message each other all day. She had it in front of her tablet again so no one coul
Tuesday, October 10th 7:30 PMGrayson arrived at The Capital Grille fifteen minutes early, securing their usual corner booth and ordering a whiskey. The restaurant hummed with quiet power and dark wood, leather, the kind of establishment where deals were closed and secrets were kept. Where wealthy







