Chapter Ten
Deep agony sliced through her, burning her insides. Emelia thought she could handle it. She resigned herself to it, thinking she deserved it. For weeks, she took his hard knocks. Coming from the only man she ever loved the way she loved him, they hurt as much as she expected them to, but she took them, without snapping back and all the while fighting tears. As it turned out, some things she couldn’t take.
You were always a good lay.
Back then, that’s all she’d been, and still hearing him admit it broke the little that time had healed. She hadn’t thought broken people could be broken again, but with those words, he’d done just that.
Knowing what would come, she did the only thing she could. She grabbed her jeans and panties off the floor, pulled them on, dashed out of the room, down the hall and stairs then outside through the back door of the compound. The cool air hit her arms, face, chest, and legs. She took a deep breath as the first gut-wrenching sob tore through her throat. The sound so familiar, so devastating, anyone who heard it sensed the ache, the pain, the agony as if it were his own.
Then she prayed like she’d never prayed before that no one found her because the dam of tears broke. No holding back now. No fighting it. Last time, she cried for hours. This time would be no different.
****
Ripper was in a foul mood, the worst mood of his life, and that said a lot considering he’d just had the best sex of his life. He didn’t want to be bothered. He wanted the tall glass of vodka he just poured, wanted to get rip-roaring drunk until he no longer felt the tightness in his chest, the one he now knew came from making the love of your life feel like a common whore. He didn’t want to see his brothers, talk to them, or be looked at. On a Friday night, that was a hard feat.
Since he left her in his room, after pouring a drink, he headed to the only room in the compound he knew would be empty, the room beside Prez’s office where they kept the security monitors. He entered, found it as expected, sat in front of the desk without so much as a glance at the monitors, and took a long gulp of his drink. Ready to go for a second swallow, the door behind him parted.
“Not in the fuckin’ mood,” he barked.
“When are you, brother?”
He didn’t hear anything for several moments and didn’t know what Strike waited for. If he had to guess, he’d say Strike was trying to piss him off. Out of character for him, but Rip couldn’t think of another reason for the pause. Finally, Strike spoke again.
“Know it’s none of my business.”
He jumped in immediately, snapping back, “It ain’t, so don’t—”
“Don’t know what game you’re playing, Rip. Don’t care except I’m gonna say something right now, and you’re going to listen ’cause I don’t think you realize what you’re doing. I don’t know what happened all those years ago, and I don’t care. Though I have to say if you treated her like this, I can’t say I blame her for running out on you.”
He swiveled the chair he sat on and stood quickly. A foot away, he glared at Strike. “You don’t know shit.”
“What I know is if you want to keep Bree in your life, you better start making amends with her mom ’cause you’re giving her plenty reasons to keep you away.”
Strike had a point there.
“I loved her. I treated her like a queen. She left me, took my kid without telling me I was gonna be a dad. She deserves what she’s getting.”
Strike crossed his arms over his chest. “You sure about that? I would’ve believed you a month ago, but now?” He shook his head. “I’m not so sure, Rip. I know a broken woman when I see one. She was broken, and now…” He leaned into him. “She’s fuckin’ destroyed.”
Rip didn’t know what to think about that. He’d been harsh. She deserved it, but maybe Strike had made another point. She said so herself, she wasn’t the woman she used to be. He saw proof of that himself. Unwillingly, she set him off, but only because he loved her, still wanted her, and couldn’t have her.
“What do you want, Rip?”
He wanted what he’d always wanted—her. He just couldn’t have her.
Rip said nothing because he didn’t have to say it. Strike knew what he wanted. Everyone did.
“You’re never going to get what you want if you keep doing what you’re doing. All you’re going to succeed in doing is push her away. It happens again, I won’t blame her. No one will. It happens again, it’ll hurt more ’cause you’ll lose Bree, too, and it’ll be your fault.”
He knew this and still couldn’t stop making her pay. Why? Because he still didn’t know why she left all those years ago? Past time to find out.
“Where is she?”
Strike’s eyes widened. “Backlot.”
Ripper hauled ass out of the room and to the back of the compound. Once there, he hesitated only for a second before he pushed the door open and headed outside. The minute he did, he heard what he couldn’t before—the gut-wrenching sobs, her anguished wails tearing through her like she couldn’t control them.
Stomach turning, he sprinted toward the sound and found her forty feet away, crouched behind the bark of a large tree, her butt on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. When he stepped in front of her, her head snapped up to meet his gaze. Her eyes widened, and even then, she couldn’t stop the sobs. She tried, slapping her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t work.
Then he remembered something Strike said. He heard him but hadn’t listened, probably because he’d been stuck thinking about himself.
I know a broken woman when I see one. She was broken, and now, she’s fuckin’ destroyed.
The look on her face, the sound of her cries, she was destroyed. And he’d done the destroying. The tightening in his chest compounded until it throbbed, until he felt nothing but that ache.
Before he thought of something to say, she spoke. “B-breaking me once w-wasn’t e-enough?” Her voice cracked between wails.
He broke her more than once? When? “What?”
Instead of answering, she dropped her head to her knees and sobbed harder.
He grabbed her arms, helped her to her feet, and released her. “What did you say?”
She glared. “You heard m-me.”
Just like that, the anger she so easily caused came then. At least this time, he had a reason. Before a month ago, he’d never been anything but good to her. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”
Releasing a ragged breath, she side-stepped him.
Before she moved again, he grasped her arm, stopping her, and leaned into her. “Not this time. You aren’t taking the easy way out. This time, you’re gonna stay, and you’re gonna answer my fuckin’ question ’cause I got no more patience for your shit, and I’m not taking it anymore.”
She wiped her face. “Fuck. You. I h-hate you! You’ll never touch me again.”
Good. Well, a part of it was good. The fact she hated him, the fact he’d never touch her again, not so much. But she’d yelled, and that was great. Emotion, it meant he broke through, made her so angry he got to the core of her, the part of her she’d buried. Proof that beneath the tears was his Em.
“Why?”
“Because I hate you, and I don’t want you touching me ever!”
He flinched, ignoring the sour taste in his mouth. “I wanna know why you left. Why you left with my kid without telling me ‘bout her, without telling me I was gonna be a father.”
He had an idea why, but he realized it only recently. Before he knew about Bree, for more than five long years, he tormented himself wondering. He thought maybe she left because she wanted more, marriage and kids, the whole package. He hadn’t given her any of it. In fact, he told her he wasn’t that type of man. The thing was she never asked him for it. After she left, he knew he fucked up. He wanted to go back in time and give it to her, wanted her to come back. He had too much pride to go after her then and refused to because she’d been the one to leave him without so much as a goodbye. His pride only strengthened over the years, and while he wondered the reason she left, he came to his own conclusion—she’d made him think she loved him but never did. After finding out about Bree, he thought maybe she left because she’d thought he wouldn’t make a good father, and yet she told Bree about him, made sure Bree knew who her father was, and she claimed she listed him as Bree’s guardian in her will. It didn’t make sense. It’s why he still wasn’t sure why she left. It’s why he wanted, no, he needed to hear it from her.
Tears spilling down her face, her voice solemn, broken when she spoke. “Fuck you, Bryce. Fuck. You.”
“I’m not afraid of you, babe. You know I can go head-to-head with you for hours, and you know it gets me off, so unless you want me to prove you wrong, show you how easy I can have you again, you’ll tell me this instant why you left.”
Not for a second did he think he’d have her again. Deep down, he thought he got lucky, that her giving into him had been an aberration. She’d never been one to sleep around, and she didn’t want him. She left him after all. Still, he said it to piss her off, so maybe he’d finally get her to say what she fought so hard to hold back.
She pushed at his chest, hard. Her beautiful hazel eyes filled with tears anew. “You want to break me some more? Why don’t you just fucking shoot me? It’d be less painful, Bryce.”
She kept dodging his question, making herself out to be the victim when she left him.
Eyes hardening to slits, he threatened, “Tell me right now ’cause I swear, I’ll get creative to get it outta you.”
“You really don’t know why I left? Or you just want to hear me say it?” She paused only for an instant before another sob tore at her throat. “Fine! What do you want me to say? What do you want to hear? Do you want the truth or a lie? I’ll make up a good lie. I’ll say it convincingly, too.”
He clenched his jaw as he leaned into her. “Don’t mock me, babe. I’m ‘bout to lose my shit, and that won’t be pretty. You better talk, and you better do it fast. I may not have it in me to hit you, but don’t forget I play dirty and fight just as dirty. You ever wanna see Bree again, you’ll start talking fast.”
That he’d never do because he loved her too much, because he loved Bree as much too. But he said it because in saying it, she’d quit the games and tell him.
Her eyes widened, her face paled as fear streaked her frame. When she blinked, thick tears slid out, staining her cheeks anew. “I could tell you I left because the clubs were fighting, the two most important men in my life wanted each other dead. I could tell you I left because I was pregnant, because I loved you so much I couldn’t imagine killing something that was a part of you, because you told me you never wanted kids, that you wouldn’t make a good father. All of it’s true, but none of it would’ve made me leave.”
She looked away, took a deep breath, and met his stare again. “With how much I loved you, only you had the power to make me go.”
Loved. So she had loved him but didn’t anymore. He knew she didn’t, and yet, hearing it from her lips killed, tearing the wound he walked around with for years wide open.
She shook her head. “I was young and stupid. I was in love, and I thought you loved me. You never said it, not in two years, but I felt it. I felt loved, and it was enough for me.”
He never said it, not once, not ever, because he hadn’t realized he loved her, hadn’t known what it felt like to love. He hadn’t even thought he could love, not until she left, and he broke. Only then he realized what he felt for her had to have been love.
Still, because he never said it didn’t mean he didn’t feel it, didn’t mean he didn’t show it. For fuck’s sake, she said so herself, so it wasn’t an excuse. He meant to point this out, but she kept going.
“Then at twenty, I found out I was pregnant, and I was terrified because I knew you didn’t want kids. I knew you weren’t the type to settle down, and I knew I couldn’t get rid of our baby. But I also knew I had to tell you even if it meant I’d lose you.”
She swallowed. “That was the plan. Just a day after I found out, I decided to tell you. I was at school, one of my classes had been cancelled. I drove back. It was only eleven. I figured you’d still be sleeping.”
Her face changed, anguish streaked it as more tears drifted down her pale face, and still she looked so beautiful. “I was wrong. I knew I was when I saw Lilliam come out of our room. I didn’t need her to say anything. I knew you’d fucked her, but Lilliam being Lilliam did anyway, proving why I felt like I was being gutted alive.”
Eyes widening, his jaw dropped.
“I walked into our room and found her panties on our bed, the bed you bought before I moved in because you said I deserved a bed you hadn’t fucked taps on, because you said it would be our bed, only ours.
“I realized what an idiot I’d been, allowing myself to fall for you, to believe that because you’d moved me in, that because you bought us a bed, it meant we were exclusive. Little did I know, you just continued to fuck whoever you wanted on our bed.”
Fuck. Fucking. Shit.
A part of him wanted to continue trying to hate her, wanted to believe this was the new Emelia, the fantastic actress making up fucked shit, but the rational part of him knew better. He remembered their last day like it happened yesterday because he’d gone over and over it a billion times in his head since then.
After all that time, he finally had an answer—the reason she left. Through the years, he made himself sick thinking of the why until finally, he came to his own conclusion—she was just a cruel woman who made him believe she loved him when she hadn’t. It was so much easier to believe than thinking it was something he did, easier to believe than the truth. The truth was the hardest to take because the truth was utterly devastating.
She’d left, taken his kid, and killed him in the process.
He missed five years with his daughter.
He missed five years with her.
He’d spent years alone so had she, but life had played the cruelest joke on him. He’d been without them both.
And all—for nothing.
The sad truth, he didn’t know if the reason she left mattered now or if it made a difference because he didn’t know if he could forgive her.
She continued to sob, crying those gut-wrenching wails louder than before. He wanted to do something, anything to make her stop crying or comfort her. He thought about it for a while before realizing nothing he did or said would make her better. She didn’t want him close, wouldn’t believe him anyway.
Feeling like he’d been beaten, gutted, stabbed, and shot, he left. Walking away from her then was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
****
“What the fuck, brother?” Dodge, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, barked when he parted the door to his house, a one-story with a brick, circular drive.
Ripper had been inside several times over the last couple of years, usually to help Dodge remodel it. His brother had reason to be angry. No one liked being woken up in the middle of the night.
“Where is she?”
Dodge’s brows furrowed. Cullen, Dodge’s two-and-a-half-year-old, poked his head from behind his father’s legs, his dark eyes half-mast, hair a rumpled mess.
Rip’s stomach turned. Stuck in his own rage, he hadn’t thought about Cullen. He woke the kid, probably scared him half to death banging on the door and yelling like he had. If he’d remembered, he would’ve called Dodge’s cell instead. He had to find that bitch Lilliam, and Dodge was technically still married to her, not to mention she was the mother of his kid.
His gaze on Cullen, he swallowed. “Sorry to wake you, bud. Need to talk to your dad.”
The boy nodded then tilted his head farther back to meet his father’s gaze.
“Back to bed. I’ll be there in a few, yeah?”
Cullen nodded and strode away.
Dodge met his stare. “Better have a good fuckin’ reason showing up here at this time, Rip.”
“Lilliam. I need to find her.”
Dodge wouldn’t care that he asked for Lilliam. Dodge and Lilliam were through. Lilliam was a bitch, not just because of what she did to Ripper. She started off as a tap around the time he met Em, and she’d banged most of his brothers. It’d been no surprise to him when she made him a proposition, one he refused on multiple occasions. He had Em and wanted only Em. He supposed that’s why she’d made Em believe he’d fucked her. Her plan only succeeded in driving Em away and fucking up the last five years of his life. With Em or without, he hadn’t been interested in Lilliam. She got the point soon enough and set her sights on Trig. She wanted more from him too. To get that, she started telling the brothers and old ladies Trig planned to patch her. When Trig found out she’d been lying, he stopped fucking her.
She moved on to Dodge after and got herself knocked up. Dodge married her. They had Cullen, but Lilliam wasn’t past being a tap. While married to Dodge, she continued to dress like a tap and flirted with the brothers. She was a shitty mother, too. Dodge had been a single father long before he kicked her ass out months ago. Though Rip couldn’t be sure if she stayed gone because it wasn’t the first time Dodge and Lilliam called it quits. For some reason—probably the fact they had a kid—Lilliam always found a way back into Dodge’s life.
Dodge’s eyes widened. “I can’t help you there. Don’t know where she is.”
Rip had been afraid of that. He was glad the bitch wasn’t making his brother’s life hell, but he needed to find her hours ago.
After Em finally admitted why she left years ago, he hopped on his bike and drove for more than an hour, not knowing where to go. He rode, his thoughts driving him crazy until he decided what to do. The reason it took so long was because a good half hour after learning the truth from Em, he was still in shock. When it faded, he’d been too pissed to make any decisions. No denying he still felt that anger, but at least now, he knew what he needed to do—find Lilliam. He didn’t know how he’d get the lying, manipulative bitch to tell the truth, but he’d make her. He needed Em to know what happened. What he’d do after, he had no clue. And for now, he was fine with not knowing. First thing, first.
“What’d she do now?”
Dodge’s question drew his mind back to the present. Ignoring it completely, he asked, “Do you know where she’s staying?”
Dodge shook his head.
“Her number?”
“Nope.”
Nope? Dodge had no way to contact his kid’s mother? “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”
“I’m not. She moved out months ago, called maybe twice to talk to her kid.”
His jaw hardened.
“Yeah, you heard right. Twice. Though that was just an excuse, what she really wanted was money. I haven’t heard from her since I filed for divorce. My lawyer called her, that’s when he told me her phone’s been disconnected. So if you find her, you let her know I want those papers signed.”
Shit. If he didn’t find Lilliam, Em would go on thinking he cheated, go on thinking she had every reason to leave him.
“What’s going on, Rip?”
He fisted his hands. “Need to find her.”
“What’d she do now?”
Eyes hard, he sliced them to Dodge and jerked his head side to side. “It’s a small town. You’re telling me you haven’t seen her?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m thinking she was staying in town, I’d know.”
Fuck.
“The suspense is killing me.” Sarcasm bit Dodge’s tone. “Are you finally going to tell me what she did?”
He swallowed thickly. “I tell you there’s a chance you won’t believe me.”
Dodge held his stare for a second before he said, “Something to do with Em.”
Surprising, Rip didn’t know what to say though he supposed he shouldn’t be.
“You’ve got to give me more credit than that, Rip.” Dodge shook his head. “Em… That girl was too in love with you to see straight. Her leaving the way she did never made any sense.”
That girl was too in love with you to see straight. Another reminder she’d loved him but didn’t anymore. He fought the ache in his chest and focused on the present.
Dodge lifted a brow. “Lilliam having something to do with it? That makes perfect sense.”
His brother had a point. Em leaving hadn’t made any sense. It’s why it hurt so much. Who would’ve thought feisty, bullheaded Em wouldn’t have confronted him had she thought he cheated. Why hadn’t she? If she had, none of this would’ve happened. Didn’t that make it as much her fault as Lilliam’s for believing it?
“Sorry I woke Cullen.” He turned and walked away, knowing he had no choice but to find Lilliam and make her tell Em the truth.
****
“Rip.”
Having spotted Bud perched outside the door leading into the garage as he drove in, Ripper knew what’d come.
“Don’t tell me you believe her.”
What the fuck? How did Bud know? “What’re you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about…her fucking sob story.”
Taking a step in his direction, he snarled, “You listening to my conversations? You grew a pussy in the last five years I didn’t know about?”
“I listened to her conversation with that cop. You wanna know what she told him?”
Shit. Bud had? Why hadn’t he? He should’ve.
“She said you cheated on her. I know that’s a fuckin’ lie. Everyone knows that’s a fuckin’ lie. Now, she’s been crying her eyes out for hours. You’ve been MIA for hours, not answering anyone’s calls. I know she told you some sob story. Pretty sure it ain’t the same ’cause no way in hell you’d believe you did something you know you didn’t.” Bud threw his hands out. “But, brother, if me looking out for you means I gotta pussy, then I gotta pussy.”
He didn’t say a word.
“She’s been here for a month, and you’re already her whipping boy: getting her a job, fighting customers who hit on her. But she’s Em, so you’d probably sell your soul to the devil if she told you to.”
He grinded his teeth. “Fuck you.”
Bud leaned into him. “You’re the one who’s fucked. She destroyed you, made you a living, breathing zombie.”
His brother had to be kidding—giving him shit after the shit day he had?
“A very pissed off, living, breathing, zombie.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know you—”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know—”
“You don’t—”
“I know—”
“She came on to me.”
Bud reared back, eyes widening. He shook his head. “You didn’t—”
“Lilliam had been at it a while. She was fuckin’ relentless. After Em left for school in the mornings, Lilliam would come into our room. As a tap, she wasn’t even supposed to be in the compound. I got no clue how she continued getting in, but she did. She got in bed with me a couple of times, so I started getting up earlier.”
He released a breath. “That last day…the day Em left, I was in the shower when I heard the door and saw Lilliam, naked. I told her to leave before I got her kicked off club property. She left.”
“You didn’t.”
He hardened his jaw. “I didn’t, but it doesn’t make a difference ’cause what I didn’t know was that Lilliam left her thong on our bed. I didn’t know Em got outta school early and saw Lilliam leave our room. Then Lilliam said some shit to make her think we did.”
Bud’s gaze slid away. He sighed then finally met his eyes again. “So she’s kicking her own ass for believing Lilliam, now?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t tell her. What’s the point? She didn’t believe in me then, why’d she believe what I have to say now?”
“So…”
“So I’m gonna find Lilliam and make her tell Em the truth.”
Bud widened his eyes. “You’re fuckin’ with me.”
He glared. “No.”
“You just said she wouldn’t believe you—”
“She’ll believe Lilliam.” Then and there, he had to believe that.
Bud dropped his head, shook it then met his stare. “After all this time, what difference does it make?”
Ripper didn’t know, what he knew—he needed Em to know the truth. “Need her to know.”
“Ha,” Bud scoffed. “What makes you think she’ll believe Lilliam, now?”
He didn’t know, but he had to try.
The door to the front of the garage slammed open and out came Strike, shaking his head. His gaze went to Bud’s then met Ripper’s. “She stopped crying, but she isn’t talking.”
Before Strike finished the sentence, Ripper headed toward him then past.
“She’s still out back.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Strike. “She’s been out there all this time?” The question came out in a yell.
Strike nodded.
He cursed. He’d been gone for hours. This time of year, it got cold then colder and colder as the night went on. When he left her, she wore a thin sweater.
Picking up his pace, he headed through the compound, ignoring half-naked taps and his brothers along the way. He went out the back and found her right where he left her, hiding behind the bark of the tree. She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest, head bent, arms resting on the back of her head.
He wrapped one arm around her back, the other under her knees, and hefted her up in one swift movement. Her hands resting between them, her head fell onto his chest. Against the fabric of his tee, he felt her ice-cold cheek.
Clenching his jaw, he carried her inside the compound, up the stairs, and into his room. In his bathroom, he set her on the toilet. There, he got the first good look at her face. Eyes swollen from crying yet unseeing, her expression could only be described as grieved, the type of pain that never went away. It struck him, wounded him, making his heart squeeze tightly in his chest, and it scared the shit out of him too. He hadn’t known what to do before, he sure as hell didn’t know what to do now.
Turning on the shower, he tempered it hotter than normal. “You gonna take off your clothes?”
She didn’t move, didn’t blink. He wasn’t even sure she was breathing, so he had no idea if she heard him.
He carried her then stepped into the shower, clothes, shoes, and all. As the water sprayed down on them, she gasped. His arms around her tightened, she briefly struggled against him. He kept them under the shower head for several moments. When she stopped moving, he placed her on her feet and wrapped one arm around her waist. Pulling her wet hair from her face, he angled her head to meet his stare. Even with water dripping around them, her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Why’d you do that?”
“W-what?”
“You trying to get yourself sick? You’ve been out in the cold for hours.”
Eyes widening, she hesitated for moments too long. “I’m wearing a sweater.”
“That thin-ass sweater isn’t gonna do shit, Em. Your cheeks are still ice cold.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in closer until her chest pressed against his.
She held his gaze without saying a word, her eyes softening more and more by the minute.
He remembered that look. She used to look at him like that a lot. He didn’t know why she did it now, but he missed seeing it so much it made him ache at the loss of it.
All because of a lie.
“Can I trust you to warm up by yourself?”
When she didn’t say a word, he said, “I can do it for you. Then we’ll be doing a lot more than warming up.” Just the thought of it had his cock hardening.
She looked away. “I’ll be fine.”
Shit. He hoped. For a moment there, he thought she might. He’d been lucky once, it could happen again, right?
Pulling away, he stepped out of the shower. “I’ll get you a towel.”
He took off his shoes, socks, and clothes leaving only his boxers on before he went about finding her a clean towel. After placing it on the sink for her, he walked into his room, took off his boxers, and dried off then dressed.
She took a while, long enough he became impatient and headed for the bathroom door, long enough when he parted it, hot steam hit his face. She’d turned up the heat a lot. He remembered she loved hot showers.
He stepped inside. “Are you about done?”
“W-what?”
Glancing down at the floor, he spotted her wet clothes piled on top of his. Then he shifted his gaze, seeing her shadow through the steamed glass. She stood under the pelting hot water.
“I asked if you’re about done.”
“I… Yeah,” she said but made no move.
He waited for a minute before he lost patience. “Em, unless you want me to go in there and get you out myself, I suggest you start moving.”
Turning off the shower, she parted the glass door and poked her arm out. He handed her the towel. She wrapped it around herself then stepped out.
The pale skin on her face, chest, and arms stained red from the heat, her hair dripping wet behind her, she met his gaze. He then noticed her eyes were still swollen and red-rimmed, no longer sightless, just blank. The grief wiped from her face, but it, too, was vacant, like no one was home. He knew that blankness was worse, much worse.
Lost in that look, he didn’t realize moments had passed until she shivered, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“It’s late. Should get to bed.”
She nodded and finally moved. Coming to a stop in front of the sink, she wrung her long hair ridding it of excess water. When she turned again, she stood too close, so he forced himself to move away and out of the bathroom. He reached into one of his drawers and found a tee. By the time he turned to her, she was opening the door to his room. He took several long strides. From behind, he wound an arm around her waist lifting her and pulling her back and away from the door as he simultaneously closed it.
“What are you…” Her voice trailed off when he set her down.
Angling himself so he stood in front of her, he handed her his tee. “Dry up, put it on, and then bed.” When he said “bed,” he motioned toward his with his chin.
Her eyes widened. The blank look gone for a moment replaced with something that looked a lot like shock…or fear. He didn’t know for sure.
Before she said anything, he did. “I’m not leaving you alone.” He hardened his eyes, so she’d know he meant what he said. “Not tonight. Tomorrow, you wanna go back to your room, you can. I won’t keep you here, but tonight, you’re staying with me.”
Her eyes rounded and watered. She brought her hands to her chest and clutched his tee.
Terrified. She was fucking terrified, like hurting her wouldn’t hurt him too.
“I remember correctly, last time, it was you who jumped into bed with me.” He leaned into her. “When I woke up, you were cuddled close. Just like before. Just like you used to.”
Her jaw dropped. Cheeks tinted pink. “I…I…”
Shit. She didn’t remember. She’d probably thought he was her cop. He’d just made himself look like an idiot. He was for even bringing it up. It meant nothing to her. He meant nothing to her.
“I’ll sleep on the floor. Just sleep, yeah?”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why can’t I just go?”
He was exhausted but too amped up to sleep himself. Still, he knew he’d fall soundlessly if she lay beside him. That wasn’t the reason he wanted her in his bed though. She’d been crying for hours out in the cold. He’d left her there thinking she didn’t want him near, but now, he had to do what he could to make sure she was okay. “’Cause—”
“I’m not leaving. I wouldn’t do that to Bree.”
“Get in bed, Em.”
“I won’t—”
“Get. In. Bed.”
“Just—”
“Get. In. Bed. Em.”
“Please—”
“I need to make sure you’re okay, so get in bed before I fuckin’ put you in bed. I’m warning you, I put you in, I’m not leaving.”
Her eyes widened.
He hadn’t meant to admit it, but he didn’t regret it since it made her hesitate for a moment too long. In the next instant, he snaked his arm around her waist, bent to wrap the other under her knees, picked her up, and dropped her on the bed then climbed in.
“Bryce, I—”
He lay on the mattress. “Sleep.”
She tugged on his tee, only allowing the towel to fall away when it fully covered her. He fought to keep his eyes forward and barely managed it.
“Do—”
She could frustrate a saint, and he was losing the last of his patience. Closing his eyes tightly, he barked, “Sleep. Em. Fuckin’. Sleep.”
“The lights.”
He shifted to look at her. “Then you’ll shut it and sleep?”
She nodded.
He stood, went to the bathroom, turned off the light then headed for the lamp near his bedroom door and did the same. The whole room fell into darkness.
As he got into bed, he warned, “I wake up and you’re gone, I’m gonna be pissed, Em.” He lay down. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.” She whispered, but it sounded like she’d started crying again.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. No way in hell he’d sleep knowing she lay a foot away crying, so he didn’t. Within minutes, her breaths evened out, and she cuddled close. Only then did he let himself drift off.