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“Just trying their luck?” I threw back at him, wanting to speak more freely but not wanting to frighten Aoife with hard talk. “I’ll be down later. I’m with Aoife.”
Liam clucked his tongue—the man had one wife here in lockdown, as well as four daughters. “She doing okay?”
“Could be better. Speak later.” I cut off the call and curved both arms around her. As I stroked her hair, I gently hugged her, wishing I could show her the ferocity of my feelings for her, but her body couldn’t take it.
Where she’d always been so strong, so robust—something I’d adored about her—now she was frail, and I’d done that to her. By association, sure, but that didn’t take my guilt away. Nor should it. I’d regret the pain and suffering she’d endured for the rest of my life.
Pressing a kiss to her crown, I murmured, “Aoife?”
I felt her tears, felt them crest over her cheeks and fall freely, wetting my shirt. I rocked her as gently as I could, then I whispered, “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Remember that, sweetheart.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, mentioning more violence could go one of two ways, but her breathing seemed to calm so I took that as a good sign.
She pulled back to look at me, and I was surprised when she giggled. “What is it?” I asked, wondering if she was hysterical.
Her hand came up to touch my cheek, and when she pulled away, I saw the foam on her fingers. Then, of course, I saw it in her hair.
“Aw, shit,” I mumbled, reaching up to touch her locks. How had I not seen that? I grabbed some of the bedsheet and used it to get rid of the rest of the shaving foam still covering my face.
Lips curving, she rubbed along the smooth side of my jaw. “So handsome, even with foam everywhere,” she mumbled, her eyes dark pools that spoke of a combination of things.
I knew she wanted me. Just as I wanted her. Broken and battered, the want never dissipated. She felt the same, even though she was in pain, and somehow, through that, she still needed to reconnect with me.
We’d only developed our relationship to a certain extent, and a level of intimacy was being denied to us by not being able to come together in the way we’d had until now.
In those green pools, I saw that need warring with her fear of the past. It was natural, when scared, to want to feel alive after the fright had passed—another avenue that was being denied to her.
It killed me, but I decided to accept this was a natural progression in our relationship. We’d grow closer through a different kind of intimacy. It wasn’t what we wanted, but we were Catholic. That was par for the course.
She released an impatient sigh and her hand dropped back to the sheets. “I froze up.”
“You did.” I grabbed her hand again and squeezed. “Only natural.”
Her gulp had me reaching for the tumbler of water on the nightstand. She accepted it and took a deep sip. “Freezing wasn’t useful.”
I couldn’t withhold my snort. “Fear isn’t useful, it’s still perfectly natural.”
“You wanted to go and see what was happening out there, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I did.”
“But you couldn’t. Because of me.”
It didn’t take a mind reader to see where this was going, and I didn’t like it. “Hey, what’s this?” I chided. “You don’t think you’re the only thing that matters to me?”
“There are so many people here,” she whispered, and I sighed because I knew she’d been overwhelmed by that the other day when we’d arrived.
I’d shown her around, even though she hated the wheelchair the clinic insisted on, and made her see the place, learn the amenities.
For a compound that was essentially a pretty prison, it was comfortable. Aidan’s father had it custom-built back in the seventies when shit had got real with the Italians.
Gang war had been rife then, and Aidan had kept up this place after the trouble we’d had with the Guatemalans in the nineties. It seemed like every few decades, shit rolled around, and we had to use the compound.
It was definitely a luxury, one that sapped our resources, but what were the resources for if we didn’t divert them to the most precious people in our lives?
There were several living rooms and games rooms for the kids, then TV rooms where the women could get together. The kitchen was industrial-sized and fully equipped, and the dining room was fit for families of all ages and sizes. In the basement, there was a safe room, the one I’d wanted her to go to while I checked on what was happening outside.
“Aoife, you’re the only one that matters to me,” I told her firmly.
