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Chapter Thirty-nine
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Ahundredyearspassedbefore I got back to Elena’s bedroom. As soon as I knocked on her door, it flung open, and she leaped at me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. Shivers racked her entire body. Her breath was hot and frantic against my throat.
I was supposed to be bringing her downstairs to be checked out by a paramedic, but fuck that. Kicking the door shut, I walked her to her bed and sat down, my shaking girl clinging to me.
After the scene I’d walked in on, I needed to hold her just as badly. I’d never forget Saoirse’s screams, her panicked attempts at telling me there was a man with a knife and Elena was alone with him, the quicksand holding my feet down, not allowing me to get to her fast enough.
When I’d thrown Oliver down on the ground, I’d done it with all the power and fury of a man in love with a girl who’d changed him irrevocably. That was a mighty thing Oliver would be feeling for some time. Still, it wasn’t enough. Nothing short of death would have been, and I couldn’t do it—not when it meant I’d be taken away from Elena.
Not when I was just getting her back.
“You’re okay,” I murmured. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”
“I’m okay,” she repeated. “I’m safe with you.”
“That’s right.”
Pulling her gently away from my throat, I cupped her face in my hands, sweeping over her to check for injuries. Her chin quivered. Her cheeks were flushed. Otherwise, she was none the worse for wear—at least on the outside.
“Beautiful, sweet girl. So brave. So, so brave.”
She blinked at me, sucking in a ragged breath. “Saoirse?”
“She’s fine.” I stroked her cheek in a slow, lazy pattern. “She’s not hurt. She’s with my dad next door.”
“Okay.” Her chin quivered harder. She was trying with all her might to keep it together. “I couldn’t let him hurt her. Not your sister.”
“And you didn’t, El. You saved both of you.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’ve got you now. You don’t have to be brave anymore. I’m not letting you go. I won’t let anyone get to you.”
She nodded against my forehead, taking shaky breath after shaky breath. “I was going to forgive you before this.”
I pushed back from her again, frowning in confusion. “What?”
“I didn’t tell you I love you because I almost died. I’d already decided to let you back in before Oliver showed up and…you know, tried to kill me.” She shivered at her own words, then her eyes flicked to mine and she gave me the smallest smile. “I just want you to know I’m not forgiving you because of Oliver. I want to be with you because I can’t standnotbeing with you. I hope you still want me even though my baggage put Saoirse in danger. Do you?”
“No question. Don’t even think that. You are not responsible for the failures of men. Don’t take that on.” I took her hand in mine and balled it into a little fist, raising it in the air. “Fuck the patriarchy, right?”
She gave me another little smile. “Fuck the patriarchy.”
I kissed her fist then the tip of her nose. “I love the hell out of you.”
She leaned in and kissed the tip ofmynose. “I love the hell out of you too.”
The reality of what we’d just endured would come, but for now, all I wanted to do was bury my face in her moonlit hair and hold my girl.
Elena was sprawled on my chest, not sleeping, but finally calm.
The last two days had been the longest of my life. Now that my dad and Saoirse were home, Oliver was locked snug in a jail cell, and my girl was back in my arms, I could finally breathe. I couldn’t seem to relax, though. It might be a long time before that happened.
Before Saoirse had come running to tell me about Oliver, my dad and I had had a talk.Thetalk that cemented everything I knew and shifted my way of thinking about things I hadn’t understood.
“I’m not proud of myself,” my dad said.
I blinked at him. “Why not?”
He scrubbed his scruffy jaw, a move I’d inherited from him when I was thinking.
