back, along with the urge to shout them. Snapping at his team leader wasn’t going to improve the situation and Tuck was just trying to help. It was clear they were both worried about him.
Adam looked back down at the floor. He wasn’t really that close with any of them, yet they all had his back.
That was the part he’d missed most about being with the team—that unshakable bond and camaraderie that came with knowing every last guy on the team would take a bullet for any of them. And they’d all been through their own private hells too, when the women they loved were in peril.
Tuck and Celida hadn’t been officially together when she’d been attacked, but everyone had known he’d had strong feelings for her. And Bauer, hell, Zoe had gone through it twice.
Adam shook his head. “How did you guys handle it when they were taken? Zoe and Celida.”
Bauer and Tuck looked at each other for a moment before facing him. “It was tough,” Bauer answered, his blue eyes somber. “Toughest thing I’ve ever gone through. So I know how you’re feeling, I get it. And like Tuck said, remember we’ve all got your back through this.”
Adam knew all that. He cleared his throat, thought of something to say to fill the pause. He’d been careful not to let anyone know the extent of the deterioration of his marriage or the reasons behind it, but fuck it. These were his brothers and he knew they wouldn’t judge him.
“We’d been having problems for about two years now.” Bauer and his wife were expecting a baby in a few months so this topic of conversation probably wasn’t all that welcome, but he didn’t know what the hell else to talk about and he’d held everything in for so long.
He drew in a deep breath. “We lost a baby.” It was such a relief to say it aloud.
A shocked silence filled the room. He didn’t look at the others.
“Well, three of them, to be honest. We’d been trying to get pregnant for over a year and nothing happened. Eventually we had to resort to IVF. We lost the first one pretty early on. But the second one was…” He pressed his lips together, fought the sudden constriction in his throat. “It was tough.” He risked a look up, saw Bauer staring at him with the kind of sudden awareness only another expectant father could have.
“Shit, man, I never knew. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Tuck added.
Adam nodded. “Thanks. I just didn’t want to talk about it with anyone back then.” Which, as it turned out, was the main reason things had gone from bad to worse between him and Summer. “We were at that training thing in San Diego when it happened. I flew home as soon as I got the news but the truth is, I…wasn’t there for her afterward. Not like I should have been.” He’d been upset too, of course, but now he recognized not in the same way she’d been.
When he thought of his lack of communication and impatience with her in the aftermath, he wanted to go back in time and deliver a throat punch to himself.
It still crushed him, shamed him to know he hadn’t been there for her in her darkest hour. Not in the way she’d needed him to be. He hadn’t understood that until a few months ago, until she’d moved out and been ready to sign the separation papers she’d had drawn up.
He didn’t blame her for wanting out. And even though he didn’t know what she’d been through on that horrible day, he could guess well enough. He’d tortured himself with it ever since.
You don’t know what it was like. You weren’t there . You were never there.
The memory of Summer’s emotional accusation reverberated in his skull, wrapped around his ribcage like a python and squeezed.
He blew out an unsteady breath. “I swore to her I’d never let her down like that again. I promised I’d always be there for her after that.” And now, when she needed him more than ever and was facing the unthinkable at the hands of those animals, he wasn’t there.
He. Wasn’t. There.
He shook his