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He was nothing if not adaptable. He didn’t need WREN to feel important. And if he was ever found, he had an entire arsenal at his disposal. No one and nothing were going to keep him down.
Not WREN.
Not Option Zero.
No one.
After all: He was Colton Fricking Kingsley.
Chapter Forty-Two
Francine, Wisconsin
The flight from Montana to Wisconsin was mostly a blur. Serena remembered Sean carrying her up the stairs to the plane. Her pain meds had kicked in by then, and only vague images came to mind—the way he’d settled her into a seat, covered her with a blanket, and held her hand the entire way. She must have slept for most of it, because she felt like it was only a few minutes later that he was lifting her into his arms again.
She had mumbled that she could use her crutches and walk, but he’d just shushed her and carried her down the steps. Her parents had been waiting on the tarmac. She remembered their hugs. Her mom’s was, as always, gentle but firm, with her soft fragrance of lilacs surrounding her. Her dad’s hugs were warm and deliberately all-encompassing. Both had been exactly what she’d needed.
Hank had been at Sean’s feet the entire way. Even though they’d had a kennel on the plane, with a super soft bed and a couple of bones, Hank had whined until they’d let him out midflight. He took his guard duties quite seriously.
Sean had settled her into the back seat of her parents’ car, and Hank jumped in right after. She remembered her mom and dad chuckling at his protectiveness.
They hadn’t talked much on the way to Francine, for which she was grateful since she couldn’t have been even remotely coherent. Again, Sean had just held her hand and been a quiet, reassuring presence at her side.
The moment she entered her parents’ home, Serena had felt a comfort she hadn’t been sure she’d ever feel again. Since she didn’t have the energy to battle a gnat, Sean had carried her up the stairs to her old bedroom. She’d noted her parents had stayed at the bottom of the stairs, watching her with worried frowns. She’d wanted to reassure them, say something to bring them comfort. The best she’d been able to do was a whispered, “I love you.”
Sean had set her on the edge of her bed, and here she sat, still, staring into space.
“Want me to run you a bath?”
A bath sounded heavenly. She hadn’t had a bath since she’d been taken. Standing in the corner of the shower at Kingsley’s compound had been more about giving herself pep talks and getting clean than anything else. Soaking in a bubble bath had always been one of her favorite ways to decompress.
She looked up at the man who’d asked the question. He had been so careful with her since her return, and though she knew she was more fragile than she’d like, she wanted him to understand how happy she was to see him. Not just because of being away from that place, but because he was here with her.
Taking his hand, she pressed a kiss to his palm, “A bath sounds wonderful.”
His eyes lit up with delight. “Stay right here. Be right back.”
He disappeared into the bathroom. She heard water running, and then the lovely fragrance of her peaches-and-cream bubble bath gel wafted through the air. It smelled like home.
While she sat on the edge of the bed, Hank lay at her feet and looked up at her as if he understood every pain and trauma she’d endured. Since Sean had found him wandering alone in the forest, with a gunshot wound, she thought he might understand better than anyone.
Her mind was slowly thawing from the deep freeze she’d locked it in after her meltdown with Jules. A part of her still resisted. As healthy as it was to face her demons head-on, she wasn’t sure she was ready. Staying within this bubble of numbness felt so much safer.
Sean’s voice broke into the silence. “Bath’s ready.”
Without asking, he scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom. Opening the door to the toilet, he propped her against the wall and said, “You need help?”
Despite the fact that they’d been married for almost five years, she felt herself blush as she mumbled, “I’m good.”
Seeming not to notice, he said, “Call me when you’re finished,” and closed the door.
Though she was groggy and felt almost as helpless as a newborn kitten, she managed to take care of business without keeling over. When she finished, she opened the door, and Sean was there waiting for her. Without a word, he undressed her with gentle efficiency, his handsome face serious as he focused on his task. It was so good to see him healthy again. She wanted to ask him about his recovery, about any residual pain or impairment. She also wanted to know about Brody and how all of that came to be. She just didn’t seem to be able to form the words.
Scooping her up again, Sean eased her down into the steaming, fragrant water. He carefully lifted her ankle and settled it on the edge, where he’d placed a towel to cushion her foot. Then, again without asking, he proceeded to bathe her. Each swipe of his soapy hand was both gentle and filled with tender care—and, yes, reverence. Like she was something precious and priceless.
That bubble of numbness began to crack even more.
Before she could begin to unpack all that she was feeling, he pulled the plug on the bathwater and lifted her into his arms. Setting her on the vanity chair beside the tub, he dried her body and then produced a nightgown he’d apparently found in a drawer. This particular nightgown—one of her older ones—felt soft and familiar. Comforting.
