Letting Go (Surrender Trilogy #1)(95)

Chessy was beautiful, smart. She had a smile that would light up an entire city block. And she was utterly submissive, entrusting her entire well-being to her husband’s hands. He’d be a fool to ever risk that for a piece of ass on the side.

“Okay, we’re here,” Chessy said. “Are you sure this is what you want, Joss? It’s not too late to change your mind. We can take you back right now. Just say the word.”

Joss sucked in a deep breath. “No. I’m ready. One way or another, I need this to be over. Either we’ll have a new beginning or I’ll have closure, but either way, it ends tonight.”

• • •

DASH paced the floor of his living room, agitation gripping him by the balls. Four days. Four goddamn days Joss had been out of the hospital and he hadn’t so much as laid eyes on her. He’d gone to the hospital on the day she was going to be released, only to find she’d already been discharged into Tate and Chessy’s care. He’d been fully prepared to sweep in, take over and not back down. He had every intention of taking her back to their home, where he’d take absolute care of her until she was fully recovered. But Chessy and Tate had taken her to their house, an impenetrable f**king fortress for all the luck Dash had had getting in.

His calls, texts and e-mails had gotten no response from Joss. Silence lay as heavy as concrete between them and with each passing day, with each failed attempt to reach her, he’d felt her slipping further and further away.

What the hell was he supposed to do? How could he lay his heart at her feet if he couldn’t get to her in order to do it? He reached for his phone, wanting to call her again, but he knew she wouldn’t answer. Just as she hadn’t answered the dozen other times he’d called her today.

Despair was his constant companion and he cursed his wayward tongue. If only he hadn’t let his anger—and paralyzing fear—control his thoughts and words that fateful morning. He was to blame. Not Joss. Him. He’d done this to her. To them. And to any chance he had of having forever with her.

He bowed his head, regret burning a hole in his gut.

He was so absorbed in his grief that he didn’t hear the car in the drive. Never knew anyone was there until a soft knock sounded at his door.

His head jerked in the direction of the sound, in no mood to deal with whoever had encroached on his private hell. When a knock sounded again, firmer and louder than before, he swore and strode angrily to answer, fully intending to bite off the head of the unfortunate idiot disturbing his self-recrimination.

But when he yanked open the door, his heart stopped because it was Joss standing there, looking pale and fragile, the bruises from her accident still vivid against her skin. Her broken arm was in a sling, hugged protectively against her chest. And there was resolve in her eyes that gutted him.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line and he wanted to yell no! His heart told him that she was here to tell him to go to hell. To stop calling, texting, e-mailing and coming by Chessy and Tate’s house every day. It was no more than he deserved, but he couldn’t bear to hear those words from her lips.

But she was here! Not locked behind the walls of Tate’s house with Tate and Chessy acting as her personal guard dogs. She was in front of him, and here was his chance to humble himself before her and beg her forgiveness.

“Can I come in?” she asked softly when he continued to stand there, stunned, his mind an utter mess of all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t summon.

She looked suddenly vulnerable and doubt crept into those beautiful eyes. Fear. That he’d reject her? That he wouldn’t allow her to come inside her home?

He threw open the door and very nearly swept her into his arms. Only the memory of how fragile she was, how injured she still was and how much pain she still had to be in stopped him. And yet she was here. When she should be in bed. Resting. Getting better.

“Joss,” he croaked out. “God yes, honey. Please. Come in. Let me help you. You shouldn’t be up. You should be in bed. Are you hurting?”

Her lips twisted into a wry smile as she walked into his house. He slammed the door quickly behind her, afraid she’d change her mind, or that she was a manifestation of all his dreams and that she’d disappear as soon as he awakened.

“I took pain medicine half an hour ago,” she said quietly. “It’s why Tate drove me. I didn’t want to risk another accident, and I’m not supposed to drive for a few weeks anyway.”

Guilt slammed into him all over again. He touched her uninjured arm, savoring that brief moment of contact. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, just be with her, close enough to smell, to touch.

“Come into the living room,” he said quietly. “The couch should be comfortable. I can get the ottoman or you can sit and lean back against the side so you can put your feet up. Are your ribs okay? Is the pain medicine working?”

He was a babbling idiot, but the flood of questions simply wouldn’t stop. He’d never felt so unsure of himself in his life and he hated that she was so quiet.

He took her hand, rejoicing when she didn’t yank it away. He led her to the couch and eased her down, hovering, looking for any sign she was in pain.

She let out a sigh, briefly closing her eyes as she leaned back against the sofa.

“Damn it, you are hurting,” he swore. “Did you bring your pain medicine with you? Should you take another dose?”