Page 90 of The Rising


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I slowly peel them open and focus, finding his face above mine, upside down. He’s sitting on the floor, my shoulders in his lap, and his face is fraught, his damp hair falling in his face. “I’m not talking to you,” I croak, and he exhales, dipping and kissing my face anywhere he can reach.

“Are you in pain, Rose?” Doc asks. I shake my head, hearing him hum and feeling him pressing into various parts of me. “She fainted.”

“Why?” Danny demands.

“Distress, maybe,” Doc says, his tone knowing. “I heard you both yelling.”

Danny lifts his face, and I see Doc on his knees beside me, and James and Beau by my feet. Doc tilts his head, looking between us both with disapproval. “If the body can’t cope, it shuts down. Simple. I have told you both endless times, Rose needs to calm down. Chill out, as you young people say.”

I peek up at Danny and see the guilt take hold. I start to sit myself up slowly with Danny’s help. It was a panic attack. I blacked out because I couldn’t breathe. I look at Beau, and for the first time I can truly appreciate how debilitated she has been so many times. God, that was horrific. Struggling to reason with yourself, fighting for air, pushing back flashbacks.

Danny gets to his feet and lifts me into his arms, carrying me out of the office silently, up the stairs to our room. He lays me on the bed, removes my robe, and tucks me in. Then lies down beside me on top of the sheets, fully clothed. His hand goes on my tummy. His head on my chest. I slip my hand into his damp, dark waves and massage his scalp.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“I didn’t pass out because we fought.”

He lifts his head and looks at me. “What?”

“I found a picture of your pops in the drawer of your desk. And the ring...” I shake my head mildly, not wanting to go there again but needing Danny to be rid of the guilt grabbing him. I know the ring I was looking at was Carlo Black’s, not Ernie’s, his brother, the man who took Daniel away from me when he was only minutes old. But those evil, emerald eyes. They got me.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “They found the ring by Pops’s grave. I didn’t think—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “Stop it.” I wriggle, forcing Danny to move, and I shuffle up the bed, resting my back against the headboard. “Come.” I offer my hands, and he takes them, letting me pull him closer. He straddles my thighs, resting his ass on his calves, and I smile down at his suit pants stretching across his thick thighs. “I’m glad I saw it,” I say, looking up at him.

He balks at me. “Rose, baby, what the fuck?”

Okay, so my initial reaction wasn’t all too great, but now? “That green ring is a reminder of how far we’ve truly come. How many obstacles we’ve overcome. And have still to overcome. We are stronger together.” That’s a fact. “Sometimes, we both just need a little reminder of that.” I guide his hand to my stomach, and he looks down. “I hate you.”

He exhales on a quiet curse and wedges his fist into the mattress, leaning forward and kissing me. “I fucking hate you more.”

And the universe aligns again, the rollercoaster slowing to a more manageable pace. I hook my arms over his shoulders and fall into the slow, calm motions of his kiss. It’s the longest kiss, neither of us willing to break it. He slips one arm under my lower back, and then falls to the bed, bringing me to rest on top of him. “Your cuts.”

He kisses me harder.

“You’ll be all creased,” I say around his mouth, my naked body squishing into his suit. Creased to kill.

He hums, moans, pulls me in closer, and my body comes alive, need taking over. I sit myself astride his stomach, never breaking our kiss, and lace my fingers through his hair. I hear his phone ringing from his pocket. And then I feel it. “Oh,” I yelp, lifting my ass from his body to escape the hard vibration. He laughs into my mouth, forcing me to withdraw, just so I can get a glimpse of my chuckling god. It’s good to see him. I smile, feeling into his inside pocket for his cell and pulling it out.

“Throw it away,” he orders, and just as I’m about to do just that, he stills. “Wait.” His cell is suddenly gone from my hand, as is my chuckling god. It was a brief appearance. He stares at the screen.

“Who is it?” I ask, as he kisses my forehead and helps me to my back, laying me down.

“I don’t know.” Another kiss on my cheek before he answers with silence.

I hate the instant tension his body radiates.

17

JAMES

After Danny took Rose upstairs, I followed Beau into the kitchen. She poured herself water, downed it, then left, not looking at me once. So I followed her to the gym. Shewilltalk to me. She’s already been in here for over an hour this morning. Clearly, she’s not sweated enough. She places her phone on the bench and starts pulling on some boxing gloves, ignoring me standing by the door. The punching bag is about to get hammered.

I wander over to the corner and pick up the pads, slipping my arms through the bands and going to Beau, standing before her, forcing her to look at me. I widen my stance. Raise the pads. “Come on then, Beau,” I say quietly. It’s me she wants to hurt. Well, here I am. “Let’s get this out of your system.”

Her lithe body engages, and I bend slightly, bracing myself, seeing the intentions in her eyes. Her first roundhouse kick connects beautifully, knocking me back a few paces. I step back into position. “Again,” I order, cricking my neck, loosening my muscles.

She comes at me, launching a round of punches, one after the other, right hooks, jabs, and uppercuts. The pads absorb them all, every blow, and I start to move around the mat, encouraging her movements too. “Again,” I demand, thrusting the pads forward, and she yells, delivering another combination of kicks that have me staggering back until my back hits the wall. She backs off, wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her gloved hand, letting me reset. “Again,” I whisper, dipping, my eyes on hers, goading, part of me wondering what the fuck I’m doing, encouraging this kind of training when I know she’s on the verge of walking out on me and taking up her past as a cop. But the other part is relishing this. Knowing she’s getting what she needs, knowing she’ll be revisiting our past, seeing us in the kitchen of my apartment when she first took me off my feet, both physically and mentally. The first time we had sex. The moment we both succumbed.

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