Page 67 of Recovering Ivy

“Because I fucking love you!” he shouted. “And you are worth it.”

23

Zane

The first time I’d ever told a woman I loved her, and it was done in anger. Goddamn, I hadn’t wanted to say those words, yet nor was I ready to fully admit to myself what I was feeling but fuck she was killing me.

“Don’t say that to me,” she pleaded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around her body and her shoulders slumped forward. Before we could go any further, I needed her to understand who I was.

“I will fight for us, Ivy. I have never lied to you and I never will. There will be things about work I cannot tell you and you’re gonna have to find a way to be okay with that. But when it comes to us? Nothing but honesty. I’ve never held back with you and I won’t start now.” I took the last few strides and stopped in front of her, my hands moving to her face as I held her eyes. “Everything I have done is to protect you. I never understood why my brother acted like a complete idiot when it came to Jasmin. I couldn’t fathom why he’d push her to the brink of insanity about her not working while pregnant. I get it now. The thought of not having you is so overwhelming, all rational reasoning flies out the window. If someone hurt you or took you away from me, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to get you back. I’ll fight to the death for you. I’ll bleed to have you by my side. I’ll kill if it means you are safe. All I need is for you to tell me you want this, you want us as much as I do, and I’ll battle every demon you have until there is nothing left but peace. All I need is your permission and I promise you I will never let you leave me.”

“I’m not worth it,” she cried.

“You are.”

“You deserve better. Someone who’s not fucked up and broken.”

“You let me decide what I deserve.”

“But…”

“No buts. Baby, tell me you want this, and I will give it to you.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

Thank fuck. We were getting somewhere.

“Then tell me I have your permission to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Please don’t let me leave.” The plea ripped from her throat and she sobbed.

There it was.

All I needed.

I scooped her up in my arms and walked the rest of the way to the bed. I laid her down and yanked my tee over my head and quickly shucked my pants. Once I was free of my clothes, I went about divesting her of hers. I slid into bed and tucked her tight against my side. This wasn’t about fucking or physical pleasure. I needed to feel her skin against mine. I needed her warmth to soak deep into my soul and soothe the racket she’d caused. I couldn’t lose her.

After awhile she finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she said and kissed my chest.

“There is nothing to be sorry for.”

“There is. I completely freaked out, and to make matters worse I did it in front of your friends.”

“What happened?” I asked, needing to know, so I knew how to stop it from happening again in the future.

“Honestly, it started when we were at the office. They came in dressed to the nines, and I was reminded of our divide. Then when we got here and they were so open and friendly, I started thinking about how and why I’d always closed myself off. And when they asked me about you, and Violet told me Jaxon was going to move my stuff, I panicked. I know it sounds crazy and I must look like a whiny bitch, but please understand after years of conditioning I literally don’t know any other way. To make matters worse, in the past I’ve never cared enough about anyone for my issues to be a problem. I don’t allow myself to connect to anyone and, if someone gets too close, I’ve learned how to turn my emotions off and walk away before they can hurt me.”

“The first time I had someone die in front of me I was fresh out of BUD/s and on my first deployment. It was supposed to be an easy patrol. Nothing had happened in the region for months. We were walking through an abandoned section of the city. The six of us were joking and laughing about the lack of available women on the Navy base we were attached to. Out of nowhere the man next to me was shot in the throat. Luckiest fucking shot I’ve ever seen, just above where his body armor stopped. I froze. Completely paralyzed. One minute Brent was talking about getting laid, the next he was at my feet, dead. When I finally snapped to, I panicked, and, in those moments, I questioned my career choice, my life, my ability to be in the field. When we got back to base I was beating myself up; I spent an hour in the shower scrubbing away the memory of Brent dying, then more time in the gym punching a heavy bag until the blood I’d been trying to clean off my soul ran down my hands. With my knuckles torn to shit, an old Master Chief came in and gave me a dressing down. Not because I panicked. He was pissed about how I’d responded. I didn’t get it when he was screaming in my face but years later I did. It’s not the panic or the pinch in your gut when faced with an extreme situation that is the problem, it’s your reaction to it.

“Baby, I can’t promise you won’t feel the pressure bubbling up again, but I can promise you we’ll figure out a way not to let it eat you alive. There are nightmares I can beat back for you and there are some I have to teach you how to fight yourself. Either way, I’m with you every step of the way.”

I had never told another person how I’d felt watching Brent die, not even the Master Chief. And to this day I’d never admit I still felt the fear in my gut when in the thick of a firefight. Though now, it was the fear of losing one of my men, not my own life. I’d long ago come to terms with my mortality.

“I’m afraid I’ll freak out again and again and one day you’ll get sick of it.”