“Where are you going?”

“Away, I just need some fucking space to think.”

She took a deep breath as she listened to the unmistakable sound of the door slamming.

Running fingers through her hair, she got to her feet and made her way downstairs toward the kitchen, coming to a stop when she saw Preacher.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

They hadn’t been alone since it happened.

“Am I okay to make myself something to eat?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course. This is your home now.”

She nodded her head and made her way into the kitchen. She didn’t know when Preacher arrived back home, but she wasn’t going to ask.

Opening the fridge, nothing jumped out at her to eat, and she kept on staring. There was a list of foods Randall had advised she stopped eating.

Now, staring into the fridge, she wondered if starving would be a good idea.

Just great, Robin.

Yes, of course, feel sorry for yourself. It’s what you’re good at. Always feeling sorry for yourself.

“What’s with Bishop?” Preacher asked.

She turned to see him leaning against the counter. His leather cut was still on, and he looked menacing.

“Erm, I don’t know. He said he needed to clear his head. I really don’t think this was a good idea.” She held her hand up with the wedding band. “I honestly believe he feels trapped. He doesn’t like how I’m going to be giving birth to his sibling.” She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think I can even think about it.”

“All the Bishop crap aside, how are you dealing?” he asked. “The pregnancy. Us.”

She lifted her head up, pulling out a bowl of boiled pasta. Preacher did most of the cooking.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not eating pasta.” He took the bowl from her. “Sit down. I’ll cook.”

He removed his leather cut, hanging it up on the edge of the door before returning to the kitchen.

She watched as he washed his hands before gathering stuff from around the kitchen. She didn’t know what he was making and didn’t bother to ask.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Yes, no, I don’t know. The night itself, it was … weird. I vaguely remember what happened, I mean, I know what was going on, but I never saw you. I woke up, and you were passed out. I feel like I should be afraid, but I know that you didn’t know it was me.”

“I can tell you it’s the last fucking time I’m getting drunk.”

She snorted. “Sorry, I shouldn’t … forget it.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Robin. I want you to understand that no matter what, I would never hurt you.”

The time when she was sixteen flashed before her eyes. She’d been ill, and the school had sent her home. Only, because of how out of it she’d been that morning, she’d forgotten her key and had no way of getting into her home.