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“I’m coming, baby. Kiss me.” Lucas grunted, and I let go of my still-hard erection and leaned down to kiss him, feeling his dick kick off inside me, coating me with his release.
After he came down from his high and we broke our kiss, I pulled him out of me and lay beside him. I threw my leg over him and put my head on his good shoulder, and we lay in silence, him rubbing his hand up and down my back.
“I missed being this close to you.” His voice was soft.
“Me too. How are you feeling? Did I hurt you? Your stomach? Your shoulder?
“Fine.” He snickered. “Everything is fine. I’m fine. So much better than I was before you gave me the best orgasm of my life.”
I laughed and said, “You say that after every orgasm.”
“Yeah, because they get better and better.” Lucas sighed and pulled me closer.
“I have to clean you up. Give me a second.” I extracted myself from him and walked into our en suite. I washed my hands and cleaned myself before I tossed that cloth for another, getting that one wet under warm water for him. Padding back into the room, I saw that he had removed his pants from around his ankles and was sitting up with his back to the headboard. I wiped him up, tossed the cloth into the hamper, then climbed into bed and sat beside him.
That’s when I noticed he had a look on his face. The one he had when he wanted to say something but had to find his words. I sat and waited, knowing he’d speak when he was ready.
“I was thinking…” he started, “… I want to go back to the cabin.” I turned my head sharply to look at him. He met my eyes, and I could see that they reflected fear and apprehension, but they were resolute. He wanted to go back.
“Okay. When?”
“This weekend? I need to go. I need to see where everything happened. It’ll… I don’t know… help me put things into perspective. It’ll help me deal with that aspect of my life. I’m still going through it mentally with the case, and this will make it… final? I don’t know. I can’t find the words I want to use that will sound right.”
“No, baby, it makes sense. I think I need the same thing.”
“So, this weekend. We can try to work things out together. Okay, Tris?”
“Okay, baby.” He kissed me, and we lay down to get some sleep, but neither of us closed our eyes. We stayed awake, thinking about the weekend.
Standing in the kitchen was surreal. In the bright light of the day, it appeared friendly. The same kitchen I made breakfast, lunch, and dinner in for Lucas countless times, where I wrote fifteen of the twenty-five chapters of my book, and where I fell in love with Lucas. This was the place that changed my life in more ways than one.
Lucas walked over to the stove and stood on the spot where he was tied down to the chair. He got down on his haunches and seemed to be examining the room. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and I didn’t ask. I let him have his time so he could rationalize what happened to him on his own.
While he did that, I peered over at the area beside the table, where I tossed Greyson’s body after he landed on top of Lucas. I still didn’t know where the strength came from. I vaguely remember blood pooling around him, but there was no trace of it now. The whole place was spotless. The cop who found us had been in touch with me and told me they had crime scene cleaners do a thorough cleaning so Lucas, a fellow law enforcement official, wouldn’t have to come back and see any trace of what happened to him. It kind of made me wonder what the place would have looked like had henotbeen an agent.
“It looks brand new,” Lucas said, more to himself than to me. I hummed in my throat, agreeing with him but not saying anything. “You can’t tell I was almost murdered in this spot. That Greyson was killed here. Where our lives changed forever.” He stayed like that for a few minutes, looking around but not speaking again. When he stood up, I turned to head toward the door, thinking he was finished and wanted to leave. But I heard a strange noise behind me, like a strangled sob, and turned around quickly to see Lucas leaning over the counter, shoulders shaking, tears streaking down his cheeks. I hurried over to him and wrapped him up in my arms. He laid his head on my shoulder while I rubbed his back, holding him up since his knees seemed to have given up on their job. His body was wracked with more sobs, visibly shaking with the force of his emotions.
We stood like that, him purging his soul and me being his rock, for an unimaginable amount of time, but I wouldn’t have traded it. This was helping. He needed this to heal, to get better mentally. And I would do anything to help him get there. I had my issues with this place, and I knew I would have the thoughts for a long time to come, but I wasn’t ever in any immediate danger when it came to the case. I didn’t feel a knife slice through my gut and shoulder. I didn’t have a psycho plan to torture me for doing my job. Lucas had to watch women being murdered on video, then one of the killers tried to kill him. His mental health took a bigger hit than mine.
So, while I worked through mine, I would be there for him every step of the way. He would have a long road to recovery, with nightmares, depressive episodes, mood swings, and the like. But I would take it. I would take it all to make sure he wouldn’t experience any dark thoughts alone. He would be able to lean on me. At any time, forever.
When he’d gotten control of himself and was able to stand on his own, he moved back and wiped his face. I helped him, clearing the tears and rubbing his cheek. He gave me a brief smile. “I soaked your shirt,” he said, reminding me of the other time he cried on me. He rubbed his hand over my shoulder where his head had just been.
“It’ll dry.” I shrugged. “Want to go sit down and talk before we leave?” He nodded, and we went to the living room, sitting on the couch facing each other. After his breakdown, he needed some space.
“Momma and Pop want to tear the place down, get rid of the cabin.” His voice was rough, and I couldn’t tell if he wanted them to do it or not.
“What are your thoughts?” I asked as I sat back on the couch and pulled a leg under me.
He blew out a breath. “I don’t want them to. Me and Cassie had some great times here. We came here often when my parents wanted to escape the city. We have more good memories here than bad. This is where I found out who I was and I fell in love with you. I don’t want it gone.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“Maybe we can redo the kitchen? I don’t know. It will still be there, and I might have some flashbacks, but if it doesn’t look the same, I could almost forget what happened.”
I nodded, understanding his line of thinking. “You think if it looks different, you can heal from what happened to you. Even if you have the physical scars, you won’t have a visual reminder every time you come here.”
“Yes,” he exclaimed. “Exactly that. I’m glad you understand.”
