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She reaches for her robe where it drapes at her waist, pulls it up her body, and then grabs hold of me. I lift her and carry her through the house and bedroom, to the bathroom, where I set her on the counter. I grab a hand towel, one of the now-worn blue towels we’d bought together years ago, and hand it off to her. That towel is just another way she’s telling me that she never let me go. It also brings back a fuck load of memories. I pull out of her and turn away. Giving her a moment. Okay, I might be a tough guy, but I need a minute, too, but I’m not admitting that shit to anyone.
I walk to the wall of cabinets to my right, the white cabinets I painted myself, open the eye-level door and find more of those damn blue towels. Holy fuck, seeing them punches me in the chest. This house was our house. It was our life. I left it all behind. I left her behind. I’m not sure how I can come back from that with her. I’m not sure it’s fair for me to try, but bastard that I am, I don’t seem to care about fair. I want her back.
I grab a couple of towels, shut the cabinet and rotate to find her still on the sink, robe primly back in place. Her hair is even finger-combed into a more orderly fashion. You’d never know I’d just fucked the hell out of her, and I don’t like it. I want the world to know I fucked the hell out of her and that I’m going to do it over and over for the rest of her life. Well, if she lets me. If I don’t scare her away.
Meanwhile, I stand here muddy as fuck because Tag scared the hell out of her tonight. Not a grand thought. I walk to the shower, turn it on and don’t even wait for it to warm up. I step inside. She wastes no time joining me. She grabs the soap and pours it on her and me, the warmth between us not about sex right now. It’s about us taking a moment, our moment, together.
When we finally step out of the shower, it’s not until she’s back in her robe and I have a towel around my waist, that she asks, “You want to talk about what set you off after that Adam visit?” she asks. “Because we both know you fuck hard and fast when you’ve been triggered.”
It’s a question and a statement that works for me. It works because it reminds me that she does get me. She does know I have my demons to battle. And she knew enough in that kitchen, and even in the shower, not to push me to talk until after I’d tamed those demons. Or more like, she tamed those demons.
I scrub a hand through my hair, turn away, and then face her again. “My father is working with Tag.” My hands settle on my hips.
“And you know this how?”
“Walker found the house Tag and his men are staying in. Apparently, my father was brought in to attend to Tag’s injuries, though he didn’t need a fucking surgeon. I didn’t shoot him. Hell, I didn’t even choke him out, but I fucking wanted to.” The words are out, guttural, heart-fucking-felt, and I don’t apologize.
She doesn’t ask for one either. She doesn’t even blink at the brutal words. “He has medical training. He could treat any type of injury, right?”
“You have met my father, correct? The one who is too good for anything but surgery and a bottle?”
Her brows furrow. “Right. Of course. That’s him, for sure.” Her next thought widens her eyes and she holds up a finger. “But,” she says, “do you tell someone like this Tag guy, no? I mean, we know I’ve been used against you. Why not your father?”
“You’re giving my father too much credit.”
“Your father might be a horrible person, Rick, but he’s brilliant. Too smart to refuse the likes of Tag. He could be an unwilling participant.”
“And too dumb to tell me? We were on your porch, alone.”
“Maybe he didn’t get pulled into this until tonight.”
“That doesn’t feel right,” I say, and thinking out loud, I add, “Maybe he was wearing a wire.”
“Is Tag’s operation that advanced?”
“Baby, that’s basic, easy shit, but yes. Highly advanced in ways I hope to never explain to you.”
“You’re one big contradiction. You want to scare me away, but you shut me down when we get too close to the bad stuff.”
She’s right. I do. I need to work that shit out. I step to her and lift her off the sink. “Let’s go to bed and pretend the bad stuff doesn’t exist until morning.”
