Willing Captive(68)

Without thinking, I pull back and blurt out, “We need to move. This place isn’t big enough for both of us, and you’ll need room to do PT. I’ll see if we can find a house to rent or something. Okay?”

His brows rise in shock. Then his face softens. Placing his forehead on mine, he asks, “You wanna live with me?”

It takes everything I have not to karate chop him for asking such a dumb question. I probe, “Do you love me?”

Without hesitation, he answers, “More than anything in my life.” He confides, “It was so hard in recovery. So many times I wanted to give up. Give in. Every time I told myself I couldn’t do it anymore, I thought about you. And how proud you’d be of me for doing it, even though it was so f*cking hard.”

My eyes close, and I breathe deeply, trying desperately to control my emotions. I say softly, “I am. I’m so proud of you.”

Then my body reacts on its own accord. Leaning forward, I very softly press my lips to his. His hands slide up my neck and into my hair, tangling his fingers through it, deepening our kiss.

Elation. Pure joy.

Someone coughs.

Shit. I forgot Rock was here.

Standing, he smiles, “If you guys are good, I have to get back.”

Turning to Nox, then back to Rock, I stand and make my way over to him. Already waiting with open arms, I all but run into his hug. He holds me tight and rocks me from side to side. I whisper, “Thank you, honey. Thank you so much.”

He kisses my hair. “Anytime, babe. Love you.”

Kissing his cheek, I utter, “Love you, too. Tell Boo I miss her. And- and that it hurts me, too.”

Rock breathes deep. “He’s got a bag full of clothes by the door. I didn’t know how today was gonna go, so…”

He trails off, and I whisper, “This is one of the best days of my life.”

And he beams.

Releasing me, he walks over to Nox who struggles to stand. Rock helps him. They man hug, but it’s not awkward or short. They grip each other tightly for a few seconds before Rock releases him and says, “Don’t give her too much shit, man. If I hear you’re giving her trouble, I’ll take care of you myself.”

Nox laughs. “Yeah, you might have to come get me when she gets sick of my ass.”

And even though it sounds like a joke, I know it isn’t. It breaks my heart. Where did the confident, assured man I loved go?

My heart tells me he’s still stuck somewhere in the rubble of the safe house.

I think it might be right.

Walking Rock to the door, I wave him off before turning to my man.

He sits on the sofa looking uncertain and almost shy. Smiling softly, I tell him, “Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be than in bed with you.” His eyes flash. I ask, “Wanna get some sleep with me?”

Reaching for his cane, he takes his time standing. Walking over to him, I wrap my arm around his waist and hold him close. The hand holding the cane shakes slightly and it makes my heart hurt. We walk down the hall to my room, and I help him out of his jacket. When I move to undo the top button of his jeans, he pulls my hand away and almost barks. “No.”

And it shocks me. So much that I step back from him with a hand on my chest.

Lifting his head, he takes one look at me, and closes his eyes on a sigh. “Been back an hour and I’m already f*cking things up.” Rubbing absently at his chest, he clears his throat and explains, “I don’t like people touching my leg. Or even seeing it. It affects me a lot. So much that I suffer anxiety.”

He looks ashamed and embarrassed. And my gut rolls from the sight of him.

My hand drops to my side, and I approach him cautiously. The vein in his temple throbs, and I know he’s likely freaking out. When we meet toe-to-toe, I lift my arms and wrap them around his waist, resting my cheek on his chest. I breathe him in.

Same smell. Same everything. Almost.

Memories flood back. Silently chuckling, I ask, “Remember when I got drunk?”

He barks out a startled laugh. “Yeah. I do.” He strokes my hair. “My little hussy.” And I burst into laughter.

Suddenly, the teetering wall of awkwardness is broken.

We hold each other, laughing, and I look up into his smiling eyes. My face falls, and I speak around my thick throat. “Thought you were dead.”

His smiling eyes turn troubled. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Sniffling, I utter, “No. You did what you had to do, and I’m just grateful that I’ve got you back. I don’t care about anything else.” Reaching up, I cup his cheek, stroking his jaw with my thumb. “What I do know is that I never want to be without you ever again. So I’m doing something right now that I should’ve done when I had you.”

Stepping back from him, I kneel, and he chokes out a startled laugh. Smiling like an idiot, I ask, “Adam Christian Taylor, born March eighteenth, nineteen-eighty-four in White Deer, Texas. I love you, and I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much if you agree to marry me. I want you for life. You were never a fling or something to pass time. You mean the world to me. And I would be honored if you would be my husband.”

Face void, Nox staggers back towards the bed, sitting, leaving me kneeling in the middle of the floor.

…Awkward.