He frowns, his expression turning grave. “What the fuck are you talking about, Scarlet?”
I rub a hand over my forehead, then clutch my fingers in my lap as I take a deep breath. “I want this. Us. Whatever this is. I want you so bad that I fucking ache every single day. My blood screams for you inside my veins, and sometimes I can’t stand it. And again, it’s fucking unfair for me to confess this, but I need to get it out.”
“Scarlet.” His growl is a rumbling warning.
“I can’t give you kids.” I sigh, the words a heavy load I’m relieved to let go of. Now that they’re out, more come in waves. “It’s not a fertility issue. I simply don’t want them. My genes are wrong. As much as my condition sometimes feels like a superpower, and as different as I am from my mother, I cannot bring myself to risk cursing a child with this. Or worse...with my mother’s sickness.”
I take a deep breath, gathering more of my stray thoughts.
“I lied to you before. I don’t have a contraceptive implant. I had a hysterectomy a few years ago. I made sure it would be impossible for me to get pregnant. Since then, I realized I don’t want kids at all, even adopted. They’re not an option for me. And I know this discussion is premature. You might have not even thought of a future with me, but...it doesn’t matter. I just need you to know now, this is it. This is all you get. Just me...I can’t offer you anything else.”
When I end my word vomit, Carter rises slowly, his expression completely unreadable. Any moment now, he’s going to tell me to fuck off out of his bed, out of his house, for forcing him to get close to me when I’m not willing to offer him this. But I’ll never back down, no matter how much I want this man.
He grips my lower jaw between his thumb and index finger, dipping down and shocking me when he presses his lips to mine with such pressure. The kiss is bruising. Deep and charged with unspoken words with significant meanings I don’t yet understand.
Pulling back, his hand still on my face, he presses one last kiss to my forehead. “Thank you.”
“What?” I frown, confused.
“I didn’t know until now what that gnawing, sickening feeling inside of me was. It’s been eating at me for days...maybe longer. It has grown roots I haven’t been able to rip out. But I understand now.”
My eyes sting, vision blurring as tears form and my throat tightens. I thought I was ready for this. Goddamn it, I was wrong.
Carter brushes a finger over the contour of my cheek, his lips shifting into a soft, slight smile. “I don’t want any children either, Scarlet.”
Like a punch to the gut, the breath expels out of me, and the tears that drop onto my cheeks no longer come from fear.
“Are you serious?” I ask, clutching his face in my hands. “You’re not just saying it? For me?”
He shakes his head. “That feeling eating at me seems to have been...worry. Fear. Probably for the same reason you’ve been afraid to confess this. I understand now, and whatever this is between us, I see it clearer.”
“Oh god!” I exclaim, rushing to crush my lips against his in a bruising kiss I break only to pepper all over his face.
His chest shakes with a silent snicker.
“Why no kids?” I ask, curiosity taking over.
He shrugs and lies back on the bed, folding an arm to brace it behind his head. “They’re not my thing. I’ve been around them, so the opinion is informed. Finnigan has his girlfriend’s little sister, who they had to legally adopt, and Ronan, his brother, has Aaro, his boy. I found that I can’t connect with a child beyond pleasantries. The appeal isn’t there. The patience or understanding either. They’re just these small creatures I’m waiting to grow a brain so I can have a rational conversation.”
I was too focused on men’s biological needs and failed to apply that theory to Carter. Though I can still see him as a father to some degree, the alternative makes much more sense, considering his inability to properly process emotions or empathy.
“I didn’t think about it that way at all, but taking into account yourpersonality,I can see now how kids might have a hard time fitting in.”
“Yes, mypersonalitycertainly has something to do with it. My blood too.” He takes a deep breath before he continues. “You’ve been honest with me, so logically, I owe you the same.”
I shift slightly, getting more comfortable as my confusion grows.
“My reasons are similar to yours. My genes are rotten. My father was the only good one between us three, and even he died of a disease that can be congenital. I’m comfortable with the way I’m built, with how my mind works, because I physically don’t know anything else.”
He pauses, gaze unfocusing for a few moments that allow too much worry to build inside of me.
“But there are times, rare times, when I’m surrounded by mybrothers,our friends, and in their eyes, I see a spark. I saw it in you too, with your family, this glimmer that spreads over your skin, brightening every fiber that forms you. That feeling is not hard to recognize—happiness. One that can only come from the ability to feel things that I will never fully understand. And in those moments, that hollowness within me becomes more noticeable.”
That makes me feel so sad for him.
“It would be unfair to impart this feeling. I may consider myself at an advantage, like you do, but I won’t risk spreading this to others. So, years ago, I got a vasectomy, but even those can fail sometimes, which is why I still like to make sure to wear a condom or that my partners use contraception.”
He ends that deep confession in such a clinical tone, I’m startled.
