Chapter Thirty
He’d wanted to give Becky some space, time to think through what she wanted. In slipping quietly away, he’d intended to do that without compromising her. He’d thought that if she needed to make decisions about their future together, then she’d want him to prove how much he really did love her and give her that space.
The one small flaw in Matthew’s valiant thinking was that, yet again, he hadn’t discussed any of this with Becky. He was taking her at her word. Words spoken from the heart, yes, but a heart that was breaking. He’d been working on the assumption that she’d meant them. That she wouldn’t want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, living in fear of what might happen if she stayed with him. Living with the unimaginable thing that had happened to him. He hadn’t talked to her though. Told her he was ready to make changes. Whatever changes he needed to ensure, as much as a man was able to, that he could keep his family safe. That he knew he needed psychological help, that he desperately wanted to be there for her emotionally and physically, if she wanted him to be. He hadn’t given Becky the chance to talk either, to say what she needed to, however painful it might be to hear. Ashley was right, he really was a self-important bastard sometimes.
Pausing outside the side room in the children’s ward, he glanced through the viewing pane in the door, to where Becky was keeping vigil next to the cot-sided bed Mia was in. His wife, she was beautiful, sensitive, caring, amazing. Had to be to have put up with him. She completed him. There was no other way to describe it. When he wasn’t with her, half of him was missing. It was as simple as that. She was also a fully functioning person in her own right. If Becky couldn’t deal with it and truly wanted him to go, she would say so. If she hadn’t told him she would prefer him not to stay on the force, it was because she’d tried to live with it for his sake. In every other area, she was directional, resolute. They would never have had Mia if not for her unwavering determination. She was strong. Stronger than he was emotionally. Stronger than he’d given her credit for. Becky would fight for what was dear to her. Never give up, providing it was what she wanted. She didn’t need handling like she was made of glass. Hoping he didn’t read in her eyes what he thought he would, eyes that always communicated how she felt more than words ever could, and which had a disconcerting knack of peeling back his veneer right down to his soul, Matthew braced himself and pressed down the handle.
Becky’s gaze shot from Mia to him as he walked in. Seeing none of the anger he’d imagined he might, Matthew took a breath, relief surging through him. ‘How is she?’ he asked quietly, walking across to the bed.
‘Sleeping, off and on. They’re giving her fluids. Just as a precaution.’ Smiling pensively, Becky dropped her gaze back to Mia, her thumb gently stroking the impossibly small hand the cannula was inserted in.
Nodding, Matthew looked down at his child. She looked so tiny in the adult sized bed, so vulnerable. Watching her long eyelashes brushing her overripe cheeks, her eyelids fluttering as her thoughts chased her dreams, he silently thanked God for hearing his prayers. He would rather have died than lose her. Awe filled, as he always was when he studied the miracle they’d produced together, Matthew’s gut tightened again at the thought that he still might.
Mia’s eyes fluttered open as he watched her. ‘Hey, munchkin.’ He smiled and reached to brush her cheek with the back of his hand.
Mia’s eyes focussed on his. Rich velvet brown eyes, always curious and full of wonder. His eyes, Becky had always said. Matthew doubted his eyes were ever as beautiful as this child’s.
‘Ouch,’ Mia said, her gaze travelling down to the hand he’d instinctively used, his right hand, where the heavy bandage to his wrist was visible.
He reached towards her tiny pierced hand, his fingers brushing Becky’s as he did. Becky flinched. It was a kneejerk reaction, almost imperceptible, but Matthew felt it, ‘Ouch,’ he said softly, his heart sinking, his gaze still on Mia’s.
‘Daddy poorly,’ Mia said, her little brow furrowed, her perceptive eyes now shadowed with concern.
Matthew laughed at that. ‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘We’ll mend though, won’t we, sweetheart? With the right help.’
‘Daddy stay.’ Nodding decisively, Mia patted the mattress next to her.
Matthew laughed again, amazed at how she could make him do that, when he actually felt like crying, right there in front of his wife and daughter. So much for Ashley’s perception of him as macho. ‘I’m not sure there’s enough room there for me, munchkin,’ he said doubtfully.
The shadows in Mia’s eyes darkened. ‘Daddy no go,’ she said, uncertainty in her voice, her face etched with tangible fear that he would disappear again and leave her on her own in some terrifying place.
Matthew swallowed back the lump in his throat. ‘Daddy no go, sweetheart,’ he said, blinking hard against the tears that now threatened to spill over. ‘I promise.’
Mia studied him, her little forehead still furrowed worriedly. ‘Promise cwoss heart.’
Matthew would normally have finished, hope to die, but avoided that. ‘Cross heart,’ he said instead, hurriedly swiping at his eyes and then making sure to draw a cross on his chest, as Mia would expect.
Seemingly satisfied, Mia nodded. ‘Daddy no go work. Daddy stay in bed with Mummy and Mia,’ she imparted, and then yawned widely and gave into the need to close heavy-lidded eyes.
That would have normally been a cue, if ever there was one, for Becky and him to exchange amused glances. Matthew couldn’t bring himself to look at her. She hadn’t said a word, other than to tell him how Mia was, which to Matthew spoke volumes.
‘Right.’ He nodded soberly instead. ‘Good idea,’ he said, for Mia’s sake, and then took a breath. ‘Unless Mummy needs some space, that is?’
It took him every ounce of his courage to finally meet her eyes, knowing that when he did, he would read what was there in an instant.
Becky’s gaze was troubled and confounded in turn. ‘Are you mad?’ she said, sounding bewildered.
Matthew wasn’t sure what to say to that. Obviously, he was. Completely, to have made the decisions he had.
‘Where on earth would we warm our feet?’ Becky asked, wiping at a tear sliding down her own cheek.
Matthew managed another laugh. It came out a bit choked. ‘Good question,’ he said. Then, more seriously, ‘I’d understand if you couldn’t deal with it. The fallout, I mean. If you felt you couldn’t … If you didn’t want to—’
Becky stopped him. ‘Would you? If the situation were reversed, would you be there for me?’ she asked him, holding his gaze, obviously seeing he was struggling to ask the one thing he wanted to, desperately needed to.
‘Without question,’ Matthew assured her.
‘Which is why I love you,’ Becky said, reaching across their little girl for his hand. ‘Will. Always. Though if you don’t start talking to me, DI Adams, you might find yourself joining Steve in the doghouse.’
Seeing her mouth curve up at the corners, Matthew’s dormant heart kicked back in. ‘I will,’ he promised, hoping she could see how sorry he was, for not talking to her, for doubting her ability to handle things probably better than he could.
Becky hesitated, then, ‘And you’ll speak to the psychiatrist?’ she asked him, her look wary now, as if expecting him to claim, as he generally had, that they couldn’t help him by stating the obvious.
‘I, er, think I might need to,’ Matthew admitted, his gaze flickering down again and then back to hers.
‘Good,’ she said, relief now obvious in her all-telling eyes. ‘I’d hate to have to find another man to warm my feet on.’
Confounded, Matthew studied her, this beautiful woman who seemed to see something in him he couldn’t, no matter how hard he looked. He loved her, completely, with all of himself. It was time he really did start proving how much. ‘You’d better bloody not,’ he growled softly.
At which Mia’s eyes drifted open. ‘Rubbish word,’ she imparted sleepily.
Becky laughed. Matthew did too, and realised it was something they hadn’t done together properly in too long a time. ‘I love you, Mrs Adams,’ he said throatily.
‘Just as well if you’re going to get intimate with my toes.’ Becky smiled, getting to her feet to walk around the bed towards him. She stopped in front of him, and Matthew felt the unbearable weight of uncertainty lift from him as he saw what he needed to in her beautiful eyes, no reproach, no pity – he didn’t think he could bear that. Nothing but sweet, quiet longing.
Matthew’s kiss was tentative as she pressed her lips lightly to his, as if he were kissing her for the first time. And then he grew bolder, his tongue gently seeking hers as he tasted the sweet familiarity of her. It would be okay. Matthew felt his heartbeat ratchet up in the best possible way as she reciprocated, pressing the delicate tip of her tongue into his mouth. He wanted her. Every delectable inch of her. Promising himself he would never lose sight of what was important again, he traced the soft curve of her back, kissing her hungrily, and then pulling her fiercely towards him.
* The End *