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I couldn’t go back to sleep, not when the dream still haunted me. When he left, I found myself in a dark pit I never thought I could crawl out of. The memory of that feeling reminded me how bad it was…not that I’d forgotten. I never wanted to feel that way again. I didn’t want to be alone like that, to wonder what he was doing and if he was thinking about me. Sleep eluded me, so I lay against him, telling myself that the nightmare was over for good.
Bones didn’t go back to sleep either. His breaths never deepened, and his hand continued to move through my hair.
I positioned myself so I could face him, my head on the pillow beside his.
His hand moved down my chest and to my stomach, where he palmed my belly with his large fingers. He could span my entire stomach with just his hand, his fingers touching both my rib cage and my hip.
I’d always been a petite woman, but I felt tiny in comparison to him. He could kill me with one hand, could crush me with those powerful hands. I watched the light from outside reflect in his eyes as he stared at me. At this time of night, his eyes didn’t look blue. They looked black instead. His jaw was hard as ever, casting a shadow even though it was dark in the room. The hair along his jaw was starting to grow thicker since he hadn’t shaved since we’d arrived at the apartment. Most of our time had been spent in bed, our bodies getting reacquainted with one another. None of my family members had called me, and I was grateful because I didn’t feel like talking to them right now.
My hand moved up his shoulder to the edge of the gauze that covered his wound. “How is it?”
His callused fingertips continued to rub against my soft skin. “Fine.” He hardly moved his mouth when he spoke, his words always clipped and to the point. He’d never said much before, but now he said even less. Just being together was enough conversation for him.
He’d been shot before, but he’d never been as crippled as he was after this attack. The bullet must have hit him a different way this time, caused enough damage to make him pass out from the loss of blood. “Even if it weren’t fine, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”
His expression didn’t change.
“I’ll take that as a no.” My hand moved back to his chest, where I explored the muscles of his abdomen and torso. I stared at his masculine jawline, the way it was chiseled like the different layers of the Grand Canyon. There were so many small details I’d missed about him, from the look of his jaw to the feel of his powerful muscles under my fingertips. I’d missed his big heart, his coldness, and most of all, I missed the way he could stare at me like that. Minutes would pass without a single blink, and he would still seem just as interested in me as he was an hour ago. Only a powerful man could hold eye contact with someone like that without bowing down from the hostility. He’d never been afraid of anyone, not even my father and uncle. “I’ve never been so low in my life.” My eyes shifted away from his, unable to look at him as I spoke. “I’ve never known that kind of sorrow. Those three months were just…unbearable. I hardly slept. I hardly ate. I spent the first few weeks crying more than I ever have in my life. It was such a dark time for me. Anytime something bad has happened to me, I’ve always been resilient. I never shed a single tear. But this time, it was too much for me. I didn’t speak to my father for a long time. I couldn’t stand even looking at him. I was distant from everyone. Even when they tried to check on me, I didn’t want to see them. My artwork changed. It wasn’t full of vibrant colors and glorious landscapes. It was full of you, cast in dark shadows. I lost who I was…because I didn’t know who I was without you.” I’d always found solace when I looked into his powerful gaze, but now I wasn’t sure if I could look him in the eye. I’d confessed my deepest depression, and a part of me was ashamed it was so bad. I’d been raised to be a strong woman, had always considered myself to be one, but when I lost the love of my life…I lost myself too. When he said nothing in return, I lifted my gaze to look at him again.
His hand slid up my neck then cupped my cheek. “When I found out about the hit, I didn’t tell your father as a ploy to get you back. I didn’t join the fight because I thought it would lead to redemption in your father’s eyes. Max told me it wasn’t my problem, that the Barsettis had insulted me too many times and destroyed my life. They didn’t deserve my help. They took away the one thing that mattered to me. If I let them die, then I would have a better chance of getting you back since they’d be out of the way.”
