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“That was a heavy load to carry so young,” I say, unsure of how to comment on the club information.
He runs his fingers through my hair, his gaze trained on my face. “We have that in common,” he says.
So wrapped up in his story, I hadn’t thought about my own losses. Or the way I blame myself for so many things that were truly out of my control.
The monsters of our past really never die, do they? Dex carries his around, letting it eat his soul little by little every day. I’d do anything to take that pain and guilt away for him.
And in his eyes, I see he’d do the same for me.
DEX
No matter how many times I revisit the past, I never learn anything new. For years I’ve obsessed over where I went wrong. Cataloged all the things I could have done differently, or better. To save Debbie. To save my daughter.
I’ve rarely talked about that time of my life with anyone. Maybe I never found the right person.
Or maybe it’s the shame I carry for their deaths that stopped me from talking about it for so long.
But all I see in Emily’s eyes when I’m finished is love and understanding. A few tears that she tries to hide. No judgment, disgust, or fear.
“Thank you for trusting me,” she says, cuddling closer and stroking her hand over my chest.
I do trust her.
Maybe I’ve finally examined the agony of the past for the last time.
“I love you,” she whispers, her breath hot against my cheek. The weight of the past loosens and crumbles in my chest.
Like Emily’s burned all that agony to nothing but ashes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dex
After the heavy talk—exposing that part of my history with Emily—the weight I’ve been carrying around all these years seems less crushing.
There isn’t much more to say. Nothing that can change the past. Or fix it.
Still, the sense of relief from sharing the story and having her acceptance is overwhelming. Like I didn’t realize I’d been trying to breathe underwater all these years and finally broke the surface to inhale real oxygen.
But I don’t want to sit around dwelling on it any longer.
Emily’s my present. She’s my future. I’m always telling her not to overthink things out of our control—to stay in the moment with me—and I need to learn to take my own advice.
I’m standing at the sink shaving while Emily sits on the counter, wrapped in a fluffy white towel. Her hair’s piled on top of her head in a messy knot, little drops of water still clinging to the curling ends. Her gaze follows my every movement.
I love her eyes on me more than I ever thought possible.
“You know, you look good with the whole scruffy beard thing going on,” she says, wiggling her fingers toward my face.
“Oh yeah?” It comes out muffled while I try not to move my jaw too much as I drag the razor over my skin.
“I mean, you look good no matter what,” she adds.
“Want these cheeks smooth so I don’t give your thighs beard burn when I’m eating your pussy.”
Her breath catches. I slide my gaze over her, thoroughly enjoying the way her skin flushes from her chest to the tips of her ears.
“I don’t have any complaints,” she says.
“Good.”
Redness on my neck catches my eye. I set the razor on the counter and lean closer to the mirror, studying the discoloration.
It’s a fucking hickey.
More than one.
I burst out laughing. “You marked me.” I grin and tilt my head to show her the small, round, red and purple bruises on my neck and chest.
“What?” Emily slides off the counter, the movement knocking her towel loose. Her breasts rub against my arm as she scoots in front of me. Leaning up on tiptoes, she frowns and stares.
“Oh my,” she gasps. Shock widens her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I cup my hand over her hip and pull her closer. “I like wearing your marks. Reminds me of having your mouth all over me.”
Nervous laughter spills out of her. “You make me sound like a vampire.”
“As long as I’m the only one you’re sucking on.”
She snort-giggles and presses her palm to my chest. Another frown crosses her face. “Seriously, Dex, I never want to hurt you on purpose.”
I press one of the spots on my neck. “It doesn’t hurt.” I cock an eyebrow. “And I fucking loved you all wild and out of control last night.”
Her flushed skin turns a deeper shade of pink. “Maybe I should check your back for claw marks while we’re at it.”
I make a show of twisting and turning in front of the mirror. “Nope, looks good.”
She curls her fingers and playfully takes a swipe at me.
I catch her hand midair and brush my lips against her fingertips.
“If I don’t hear from Libby soon, we can go to my place, and I’ll make you breakfast.” She tickles her fingers against my freshly shaved cheek down to my neck. “It’s the least I can do since I left hickeys all over you.”
