Dissolution (Breach #1.5) Read Online Free Page A

After retrieving it from the machine I returned to the confines of our office. I threw the bar onto her desk and it landed right in front of her.
    “Eat it,” I demanded .
    “No.”
    “Eat the fucking granola bar before I shove it down your throat.” It was taking all my control to keep from yelling at her; I was so angry that she wouldn’t just take it.
    H er hand wrapped around the package, and I smiled on the inside. My body sighed in relief that she was doing as I asked, but was quickly proven wrong when she threw it against the wall. It shattered inside the wrapper with a crack before falling to the floor.
    “Oh, I’ve heard that threat before,” s he spat up at me. Anger was boiling in her eyes, venom lacing her tone.
    My eyes grew wide as I remembered the last time I’ d given her a similar threat. My chest ached, longing for the time when things were different between us. Times where my possessiveness was allowed to get the better of me, and my cock ruled.
    Her anger was new, confusing, and I didn’t know what to do. Something that scared me, but made me proud at the same time. I hated that she was going against me, but at the same time happy she was fighting back.
     

     
    I’ d taken to drinking at night, which was not good for anything that got in my path. The alcohol reduced my inhibitions, and the beast was let out. All my anger and pain unleashed upon my surroundings.
    I wondered if I was like a drug addict going through withdrawal. I had all the symptoms, my physical dependence on Lila showing its ugly self.
    My depression and anxiety spiked, and I craved her more than I ever had before. I needed her.
    My condo was a mess, the drywall still laid on the floor in the entryway, various pieces of furniture were knocked over, and the closet in the master bedroom was ransacked. Clothes, shoes, belts were strewn all over the floor. Casualties of my search for something, anything, that was hers.
    I emptied the hamper and found a shirt of mine she had thr own on one night and found it still smelled of her. I sighed, having enough of a fix to calm me somewhat.
    I was a mess and it was my own fault. We could have been together, there were ways.
    But there was no thinking on that day, only pain. It was for the best…for her.
    We can give her what is best, what she deserves. We used to be that man, we can be him again.
    Seeing her in the hospital, unresponsive, had been unbearable, but she was awake and she would get over me and move on. Get married and have a family.
    Our family. We could have been a family; we could have made a family with her.
    I shuddered at the thought, my eyes turnin g toward the small wooden chest lying exposed in the closet after my search. My mind moved back to another “made” family. My hand caressing the bump that lay between her hips, the ultrasound showing the life we had created.
    Gone. All gone.
    My wife.
    My little boy.
    “Happy birthday, Daddy!” she said with an excited smile while I opened the box she handed to me.
    We were spending the weekend at her parents ’ place for a combination belated birthday-Father’s Day party.
    Within the box laid a black picture frame. Behind the glass an ultrasound picture with an arrow pointing between what appeared to be legs with the words “I’m a boy!” printed on it.
    I smiled as I looked from my wife to the picture containing our child. Miscarriage after miscarriage, finally we were going to have our family. I leaned forward and captured her lips, conveying my love for her and for our child.
    “I wish I hadn’t missed that appointment.”
    “It was the first one you haven’t been able to make. I think that’s pretty good, especially with your schedule,” she said, her hands running through my hair.
    “But, I missed this. ” My fingers traced the form of our child.
    “But what a great birthday sla sh Father’s Day gift! Besides, you won’t miss anymore.”
    I was pulled back by the frightening reality her statement