She’s wrapped herself around me, and somewhere between uscharging out of the emergency department and now, I’ve enclosed her within the security of my arms, holding her tightly against my body. The way my arms are constricting around her, I’m honestly surprised she can breathe.
Relaxing my hold on her, I feel Jordan bury in closer, like she doesn’t want me to let her go. I don’t want to, and I don’t intend to take my hands completely off her, but I need to make sure she’s okay. Bringing my hands to the side of her face, I pull her away from my chest. Her own is heaving with shallow, quick breaths.
“You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s over, okay? I’ve got you.”
My hands slide along the length of her jaw and then travel down her neck. Every couple of seconds I check my fingers for any indication of blood, my eyes scouring for any sign that she’s hurt, or was nicked by the needle. But there’s nothing.
“I’m—I’m o—okay,” she stumbles, her words coming out much like her breath.
Seeing with my own two eyes, feeling with my own hands, and hearing with my own ears that she’s okay has me releasing all the air in my lungs. My arms wrap around her shoulders, and I drag her into my body, my face pressing into the hair at the top of her head.
Adrenaline is a normal part of my day. I’m used to it. I thrive on it. But whatever the fuck I’m feeling in my body right now, while it feels a lot like adrenaline, is also completely different. I’m vibrating from head to toe. My heart won’t settle down. And fuck, the top of my nasal cavity feels awfully prickly. Almost like I’m going to sneeze, but I know I’m not.
Jordan’s chest expands with a deep breath. The motion against my own chest, and my arms around her, grounds me. Then her head pulls back, and our eyes meet.
“Are you okay?” she asks tentatively. “That… that was… she’s your…”
I shake my head at her. There’s no way I can do this right now. I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about Sandy. My mom.
Fuck.
What the fuck just happened?
It feels like I had the biggest out of body experience of my life, and I’m just now reentering my body. Pins and needles are shooting through my skin all over. I’m two seconds away from telling Jordan I need to sit down because I suddenly feel lightheaded, when she squirms her arms up between us to grab my face.
I dip my head, knowing what she wants, and our lips slam together. There’s nothing innocent or sweet about this kiss. It’s probably far from appropriate for our location, or what just happened. But it breathes life into me, making my world spin for an entirely different reason. She knew. Without saying a word, she knew, and she knew what would help.
“For what it’s worth,” she murmurs when we finally part, her hands sliding down to my t-shirt which she fists in her hands. “I’m really fucking in love with you too.”
My forehead drops down to hers and a smile slowly begins to tug at my lips as her words penetrate deep into my soul. “It’s worth every fucking thing to me, Fireball. It’s priceless.”
Absolutely fucking priceless.
Chapter 29
Jordan
Handstanglethroughmyhair. His hands. His fingers. This wasn’t a want, it was a need. Liam knew it without me having to say it—hell, he probably needed it as badly as I did—I had to get this day, her, off of me.
Fuck today. I can’t even think about it right now. Can’t think about what happened, how it happened, or what it all means. All I can focus on is him and the way his fingers massage and scratch at my scalp, gently working the shampoo through it, filling the shower with the scent of my cleanser.
My cleanser. My shampoo.
“Tell me,” I murmur above the sound of the water raining down on us. Most of it is hitting me with Liam standing at my back, the shower spraying down the front of my body. “Tell me why you have my shampoo. I know I didn’t leave it here.”
“I told you, I ran out of shampoo, and your hair always looks so good,” he replies, and though I can’t see the smile he’s wearing, I know it’s there.
“Liam.”
“Fireball.”
“Liam,” I say, trying to sound firm, but when his fingers knead into my scalp, it comes out as a moan, and all I want to do is sag against him. “Tell me. Please.”
The breath he takes is deep enough that his chest pressesagainst my back, and he lets it out in a puff. “Because I missed you. Because I didn’t want you to disappear from my bed. Because I’m a love-sick fool who made a huge mistake and wanted to torture myself further by not letting this piece of you go.”
Now I do lean back, turning my head to look over my shoulder. Tender brown eyes stare back at me with so much love and sorrow, it makes my heart ache. I want to take every piece of that grief away from him, and I vow to myself I will, no matter how long it takes me.
“Let me wash your hair,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Let me wash all of you.”
