Chapter Fifteen

Her legs felt wobbly as she lowered herself back to the floor. The adrenaline response was fading, leaving her body exhausted. She was devastated, even though she was the one who threw the wet blanket on the party, and she wanted to be selfish, to curl up in a ball and be miserable. But she had Cheyenne to look out for. For a moment, she wanted to resent that he'd taken off without a second thought for their infant daughter, but she knew better and chastised herself for even considering it. He knew she'd take care of Cheyenne; he still trusted her.

Cheyenne's cries hadn't subsided and Carter was thankful for the distraction. She scooped the baby into her arms, squeezing the girl as tightly as she dared and rocking her gently.

"It's ok, Cheyenne, we'll be ok." Her voice wavered, but she knew her words were true as she spoke them. Sitting down on the couch, she cradled the tiny girl in the crook of her arm. "He'll come back soon, Chey. Daddy won't leave you."

Her daughter's big blue eyes regarded her thoughtfully as her wailing gradually died out. The expression reminded Carter of the one Jack always wore when he was trying to decide if she was telling the truth or just telling him what he wanted to hear. After a pensive moment, Cheyenne popped two of her fingers in her mouth and started sucking on them.

"Are you hungry? Is that it?" Carter got up once again, somehow innately knowing how to prepare the bottle one-handed while keeping Cheyenne safe in the other arm. She gave the bottle to the baby and watched as the girl drank happily. "See? Mommy can take care of you. You don't have to be scared." Switching off the lights in the kitchen and dining room, Carter returned to the living room.

When Cheyenne was finished her bottle, she dropped off to sleep once again. Carter picked up her book and started reading. It was only a few minutes before the silence started to get to her. She switched on the TV, realizing she'd never been bothered by the quiet before. She turned off the TV a second later, followed that by turning off the lamp as well, and then stared into the darkness. The house seemed different without him. It seemed empty. It didn't seem like a home anymore; it was just a house.

She sat there for a long time in the dark, seeing nothing but Jack's face as he'd turned to leave. She didn't want to feel like the bad guy, like she'd been mean to drive him away. She'd only done what she thought was right. She hated that he was angry at her for it, hated that the anger was probably covering deep hurt, hated that he didn't understand why she'd stopped him, that she felt guilty even though she doubted that had been his intention.

By eleven, she'd one all the thinking she could do. She knew he would come back; he wasn't about to abandon his daughter. And she actually appreciated that he'd left rather than yell - because it would have upset Cheyenne and because she didn't want to face him when he was that mad at her. Her father had always been the type to scream rather than run and she remembered hiding in a closet whenever her parents fought, wishing her father's voice didn't sound so loud and frightening. It was better for Cheyenne to never know what anger sounded like, certainly not until she was much older.

She'd figured out a plan. They would decide about Cheyenne first - calmly and rationally. Then they could consider their own situation. Cheyenne had to come first and Carter was sure Jack would understand that.

She didn't want to leave Cheyenne alone in the living room during the night and she knew trying to drag the bassinette to her bedroom would result in scraped paint that she couldn't ask Jack to repair. Cheyenne was too little to sleep in her crib, which limited the solutions to the problem. Carter didn't want to sleep on the couch because she knew Jack would come home and she didn't want him to think, even for a second, that she was waiting for him. It would just make her look stupid and get his hopes up that she'd changed her mind. It was the perfect opportunity for her to set boundaries on their personal relationship - they could fight and he could get mad, but she wasn't going to be ruled by whether or not he was mad at her.

She picked Cheyenne up, amazing herself that she didn't wake her daughter in the process. Cheyenne was just going to sleep in her bed. Cheyenne was too little to go anywhere and she would be so close that Carter wouldn't even have to get up to check on her. Just in case, Carter built a barrier along the edge of the bed with pillows and blankets to keep Cheyenne from getting far it she suddenly developed the ability to crawl several months early.

She changed into her pajamas, closed the door halfway so that the light from the hall would allow her to see Cheyenne without keeping her awake, and snuggled into bed. She leaned over to place a light kiss on her daughter's forehead and then closed her eyes.

She awoke with a start, an oddly familiar sensation of someone watching her pulling her from sleep. Fear caused her heart to pound, the rush of blood in her ears seeming so loud she was afraid she'd give herself away.

But before she could open her eyes or react to the fear, she heard a familiar voice, one she trusted her above all else. "Shh, go back to sleep." The soft voice was accompanied by a light brush of fingers against her cheek. Her instincts told her to obey and she did, relaxing almost instantly.

Her brain slowly registered that they were fighting, that he wasn't supposed to be in her bedroom, and her eyes snapped open, partially confused, partially anger, partially scared. But she only saw his hand as he pulled the door shut behind him. She sat up, her first thought being to chase him down and pound him for having the audacity, considering what had happened between them hours before, to come into her bedroom while she was sleeping. But then her eyes fell on the empty spot beside her and she knew he'd only been checking on the baby.

Curiosity put her on her feet, creeping down the hall toward the living room. She didn't know what she was looking for, what she was expecting, and she blamed it on the fact that she was half asleep on her feet. As she passed the room that had once been her office and had since become Jack's bedroom, she saw the disheveled blanket on the bed and the clothes he'd been wearing in a crumple heap on the floor. It was very early in the morning and the sun was starting to rise. It made her happy in ways she couldn't explain to know he'd been back for a while, to know he'd been sleeping in the next room, to know that he had come home.

She stopped at the edge of the hall, her oddly detached mind looking at the mess of things they still had to return and wondering if they shouldn't just keep them. She looked at the pile of books she'd bought and knew Jack had been right; she'd never find the time to read them. She saw the empty bassinette in the middle of the living room floor and knew they were just going to have to decide whose room to put it in because it couldn't stay there. For some reason, it didn't quite feel like her house. It almost felt like a dream.

She heard his voice and her eyes finally zeroed on his outline, all she could see of him standing in the dark kitchen. He was looking out the window, talking softly to his daughter. It seemed like a private moment, but she had to know what he was saying. She moved across the living room, hoping he wouldn't catch her reflection in the window as he watched the sun rise.

As she approached the doorway, she noticed something on the counter; a reflection of the living room light on something shiny and metal. She squinted until she could make out the shapes, finally recognizing the dishes she'd left in the sink, washed and dried on the counter. She wanted to cry all over again. She felt awful for hurting him and receiving such a gesture of acceptance in return.

She pressed herself against the wall, willing him not to see her until she could hear his soft whisper. She knew it was something important, something that she really needed to hear.

"I'm not going to lose her. Not now. Not after everything we've been through. I'm not going to mess this up."

Her heart flipped over in her chest and her knees nearly gave out again. She wanted to run to him and hold him close, but at the same time, she knew she'd made the right decision. She wasn't going to mess it up either.

His head bent down to drop a kiss on Cheyenne's head. "I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat when she noticed his reflection. He wasn't looking at Cheyenne. He was looking at her.

Consequences.4