Chapter 22

If you’re going to fuck something up, fuck it all kinds of up.

Cobie

Present day

Snick.

Frowning, I looked around the kitchen to see nothing out of the ordinary.

However, that was usual. I’d been hearing a lot of strange noises lately… noises that made me freak way the fuck out. Yet, each time I had gotten up to investigate, nothing was there.

I looked over to my kitty that was still laying just as peacefully as he’d been laying hours before, and snorted.

“You’re hearing things again,” I said to myself.

My kitty, Yum-Yum, raised his head, blinking at me sleepily.

“Oh, did I wake you from your nap, Yum-Yum?”

He laid his head back down and resumed his previous position, not giving me the time of day.

I snorted.

Then I looked around the old, unfamiliar house that wasn’t mine and sighed.

Old houses made a lot of noises that couldn’t be explained. Floors creaking, wood shifting in the wind, strange cracks appearing and disappearing in the walls when the heat of the day left for the cool of night. Seriously, I should be used to it seeing as I lived in my own house as old as time. Yet I wasn’t. Why, you ask?

Because with every single creak and groan I heard, I prayed that it was signaling the return of that stupid man who I stupidly loved. God, I was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I loved him. I understood. But I was still so mad at him.

I pounded the dough one more time with a tight fist, then growled in frustration.

“Stupid man,” I hissed. “Stupid, non-ugly, beautiful-looking-but-ugly-talking, always right, caring father, never going to let me have my way, no good, son of a bitch, asshole, fucking jerkface, stupid…”

“You already said stupid.”

I looked up from my dough and gasped.

Dante. In my house.

Standing directly in front of me.

“How did you get in here?” I snarled, squeezing the dough in my fist. “More importantly, how did you find me?”

He was standing across the kitchen island from me, staring at me with something I couldn’t quite decipher in his eyes.

“I walked through the front door. You shouldn’t leave it unlocked.”

I narrowed my eyes. “The front door wasn’t open.”

I knew for a fact that it wasn’t unlocked because I’d been preparing for this possibility. Thinking about it, hoping for it, and praying that it would come, yet still scared that it might actually happen, and I’d have to face him. I’d have to see him, in the flesh, as I tried to work through the anger and sadness that still continued to pour through me.

He shrugged. “Took me a while to find you.”

I blinked.

I’d hidden well.

So well, in fact, that it took him four months to find me—at least I prayed that was the reason that he’d taken so long.

Then again, the fact that I was well hidden was mostly due to Rafe. He’d taken one look at my pitiful self, handed me a set of keys, a thousand dollars in cash, and gave me directions to one of his homes that was out of state.

Out of state in Ala-freakin’-bama.

One of his homes. I’d asked him how many he had. He said twelve. Twelve.

I wasn’t really sure how Dante had found me, but my guess was that Rafe had given him the information. There was literally no other way, not with where I was located.

I hadn’t left my little bubble in a very long time. When I did have to leave, I was hyper-vigilant.

I stepped away from the counter, hands covered in bits of dough and flour, and turned quickly for the sink.

My shirt was covered with flour also, and without thinking, I swiped at a stray fleck and then winced.

Now I had even more there. Great.

And then I realized that not only was I wearing a very tight tank top, but it was also showing off my non-existent chest, as well as the other thing I’d been hiding with the countertop.

“When were you going to tell me?”

I shrugged, instead focusing on washing my hands instead of the man that had rounded the counter.

“Were you going to tell me?”

I shrugged again. “Eventually.”

“When eventually?” he persisted.

“When I was damn good and ready.”

“Maybe when you weren’t pregnant anymore?” He moved. “When you were having the kid? When she was eighteen?”

I shivered at his close proximity.

“He.” I licked my lips.

“He who?”

I looked at him like he was stupid.

“He as in our son.”

He froze.

“Son?”

I nodded once. “Son.”

Then, the big man before me started to cry. Not small tears either. Big, fat, rib-crushing tears.

He hit his knees, and his head dropped. His shoulders shook with his big, racking sobs.

And that’s when I knew the man I fell in love with was back.

He’d done whatever thinking he’d needed to do.

I didn’t doubt that he’d find me again. I knew he would.

Did I think it’d take him four months to get his head on straight? No. I thought it’d take him a couple of days.

But, he was here.

I hoped.

“I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t know what to say or do.

He was down on his knees. He was still sobbing, and I frowned when I saw his hands that came up to curve around his neck.

They were scarred.

What?

He had a large red gash along his right forearm, one that looked like he’d whipped it against a tree limb or something. It was raised, red, and angry.

He was also wearing a… hospital bracelet?

“Dante,” I said, touching the bracelet. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He didn’t answer, instead he got to his feet.

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I’m not proud of, but over the last four months, I’ve had a lot of time to think.” He laughed humorlessly at whatever thoughts were going through his head. Something that I wasn’t privy to yet. “I’ve gone through hell twice in my life. Once when I lost my first wife and kids, and then again when I lost you and Mary…”

“What do you mean you lost Mary?”

He spoke over me.

“…and every day of these last four months was a lesson in control that I realized I didn’t have. There have been two people in my life that have reduced me to a befuddled mess. Lily… and you. Lily’s not here anymore, but you are. It took me a while to realize, to understand what I felt and to give myself permission to accept what you were offering me. I didn’t recognize that what we have is that rare, once-in-a-lifetime, forever kind of love until you left. I didn’t know how much you meant to me until I felt your pain and saw the hurt I put in your eyes. I never, ever want to experience that again.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I know you don’t know what to say,” he stopped. “And you may think that this is just about the baby, now that I know we’re having him, but you’d be wrong. I’m gonna love that boy no matter what. But you… I can’t live without you. I don’t want to live without you.”

Tears were streaming down my cheeks unchecked, and I continued to look into the eyes of the man that I knew I loved.

“I never once doubted your love for me, Dante,” I said softly, raising one hand to his overly scruffy cheek. “At least, not after I had time to think. I knew you were coming to terms with things in your head. What I did doubt was the timing. I wasn’t sure if we were happening at the right time or if we were in the same place emotionally for it. But I was willing to wait, to give you that time… at least until it was time to bring this kid into the world.”

His eyes softened, and the tears slowed. His, not mine.

Once mine started, it was very hard to get them to stop.

“Your cancer scares me.”

I knew that, too.

The possibility of him losing someone he loved, this time to a nasty disease, had to be overwhelming for him. He’d already lost so much… I’m sure it was taking everything he had to even be here.

I knew that.

“I can’t promise you I’ll be here forever.”

His eyes dropped to my chest.

“Is everything okay?”

I pressed on my chest, then went farther to gather the ends of my shirt.

Taking a deep breath, I raised it up and over my head.

His breath caught. But his eyes weren’t on my surgical scars. They were on my belly.

My perfectly rounded belly that was just starting to stick out.

It was cute, even I thought so. I was just past that stage where people were wondering whether I was getting fat or if I was actually pregnant. Now it was obvious that I was pregnant.

He raised his hand and ran it along my belly. His whole palm spanned the entire width of my baby bump.

“Can you feel him yet?”

I nodded.

“From the outside?”

I shook my head.

And then, as if to give me a taste of things to come, our son proved me wrong and did just that—he kicked.

So hard, in fact, that Dante felt it.

It was little. Dante probably felt nothing more than a slight flutter against his palm, but he sucked in a deep breath in response.

His chest rose, and it was then that I started to take stock of his appearance.

He looked rough… really rough.

His eyes were dark, the bags under them a deep purple. His beard was scruffier than I’d ever seen it, and his lips were chapped and cracked. Pairing that with the state of his arms, and the way he’d looked to have lost twenty pounds if the state of his clothes which were hanging on him were anything to go by, he wasn’t in any better shape than I had been over the last few months.

Then he dropped his mouth to my belly, his hands running up the back of my thighs.

And that was all that I needed.

My body went from caring to wanting in about two point seven seconds. I’d thought about him so much over the last few months that it was downright comical. I’d had one sexual encounter with this man, but it was enough to give me an idea of what I was missing.

And I used that sexual encounter, right down to the last itty-bitty detail, and replayed it in my mind as I did the dirty deed every night in the dark of my borrowed bedroom.

I shivered in Dante’s arms, and it only took one half of a second for me to be up and off my feet.

He had his arms locked around my hips as he carried me out of the kitchen and to the only other room in the small cabin—the bedroom.

He kicked the door farther open, took slow steps toward the bed, and laid me down gently.

He didn’t throw me, didn’t let me bounce. No, he placed me so softly on the bed that I almost started crying again right then and there—as if he was scared he was going to break me.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

I would’ve responded, but he crawled up my body and placed his lips on mine.

I couldn’t help but respond to this man.

His hands skimmed the naked skin of my side, trailing lightly upward to my arms. Once he had them both in his large palms, he pushed them up and over my head.

Then he moved his mouth down, trailing his beard along the skin of my jaw.

He kissed me behind my ear. On my collarbone.

Then stopped to hover between the scars on my chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he rasped, dipping out his tongue to trail down the center of my chest to the soft swell of my belly.

He hovered there for a few long moments before letting my arms go to allow him to move even farther down to the waistband of my yoga pants.

He then crawled up between my knees.

His eyes lifted to mine as he started to pull my pants down my legs—which got stuck around mid-thigh due to his body between my splayed thighs.

He lifted my legs straight up into a ninety-degree angle and pulled them the rest of the way off.

As my legs started to move back down toward the bed, he caught them behind my knees, hooking his arms around my legs and pulling me into position with my backside resting against his knees.

His hot eyes on me made me feel a thousand miles tall. So obviously full of lust for me, despite my lack of breasts and my scars, things I didn’t have any chance of hiding from him.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Before I could start crying, his mouth was back on mine.

I dove into the kiss, my need for him a living, breathing thing that wouldn’t be satisfied. Not now, not ever.

“Dante,” I gasped as I pulled away.

He moved to my neck, sucking lightly.

I moaned and flexed my legs, trapping his biceps between my calves and the backs of my thighs on each side. “Dante, please. I just… I just need.”

He let go of my neck with a soft suck that seemed to echo off the walls of the tiny room and then pulled back to look at me.

His eyes took me in—my disheveled hair, the scars on my chest, and then my belly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

I knew that he was talking about more than sex now.

“Then don’t.”

His eyes flashed, and he smiled. “I won’t, not ever again. I’ll treat you like you deserve.”

He dropped one of his hands to pull at the waistband of his jeans.

His shirt and jeans stayed on, but his cock sprung out through that gap in his jeans that unbuttoning had created.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

I smiled.

“I won’t ever hurt you again.”

And then he leaned forward, one of my legs still in the crook of his arms, as he notched the head of his cock to my entrance.

My eyes held his as he pushed slowly inside. My slick wetness eased the way, and he didn’t even have to pull back as he forged his way inside. One slow, smooth inch at a time, until he was buried inside of me to the hilt.

I felt full—so freakin’ full.

It was one of the best feelings in the world.

Looking into his eyes, watching him take me, was probably the single most intimate moment I have ever experienced. Not that I’d ever allow anybody else to know what it was like to be watching this man in the same way. He was mine.

He thrust deep into me and stilled.

I arched my back, looking for more.

“What’s that look for?”

I smiled, then dropped one of my hands to gather some of the moisture that had collected around the base of his cock.

“Oh, nothing.” I smiled as I dragged that moisture up to where I needed it most—my clit.

He pulled back and watched me play for a few long moments before he slowly sank back inside.

I slowed the swirls that my fingers were drawing on my clit to match his pace. One swirl, then a thrust.

One swirl, then a thrust.

I stopped when I felt my orgasm getting close.

I didn’t want to go yet, not when it felt this good—this right.

I’d never, ever felt anything that would ever compare to this moment in time.

He watched me watch him, our eyes staying connected for long minutes.

Sweat started to drip down his face, but he still continued his slow pace.

I could feel the head of his cock kiss the entrance to my womb with each plunge, and I suddenly realized that whether I was playing with my clit or not, he was going to make me come.

And then he balanced all of his weight on one arm and reached for the hand that was touching my clit minutes before.

He brought my fingers up to his mouth, and then sucked them into his mouth, one at a time.

My pussy clenched, my back arched… and I came.

It was all I needed.

By sheer force of will, I managed to keep my eyes open and watch him through it. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life. But the way he watched me and then followed me over moments later? I’d have that memory buried deep for the rest of my life.

I actually felt the pulse of his cock as he came, shooting himself inside of me. Once. Twice. Three times.

And then he stilled.

Our breathing was uneven, but he didn’t waver in his eye contact.

“I love you back, Cobie,” he whispered. “I’ll never, not ever, take that for granted again.”

And then I started to cry all freakin’ over again.

***

It was an hour later, my rescued dough was in the oven turning into a wonderful, delicious smelling bread when I broached the subject.

Dante was busy shoveling food down his throat, partaking in my mad baking skills—skills that only made themselves known when I was stressed. He was on his fourth chocolate chip cookie when I finally found the nerve to ask.

“What took you so long?” I whispered, pouring milk into a glass for him and studiously gazing at it instead of giving him the eye contact that I was sure he wanted.

When he didn’t say anything, I finally looked up to see him staring at me.

His eyes changed from sorrow to calculation.

Was he trying to gauge my gumption?

I stiffened my spine and gave him my full, undivided attention.

“What?”

He licked his lips, and then scratched behind his ear.

“I would have found you three and a half months ago… but… stuff came up.”

My mouth dropped open. “And you just left me here to wallow in self-pity? All this time?”

His lips twitched at my outrage. Was he amused by this?

“Drake decided to make a move after you left.”

My mouth fell open.

“You’re joking.”

He winced. “No, not joking. Not even a little bit.”

“What did he do…”

And then Dante dropped his half-eaten cookie, stood from his stool, and rounded the counter.

“I’m okay.”

I frowned. “Well, I noticed.”

“No, I’m okay. I don’t want you to freak out.”

“Okay…”

He stopped a foot or so away from me and started to lift his shirt.

I gasped.

The marks on his arms weren’t the only thing new.

I could see his ribs. He had abs, of course, but Dante had always been thick and muscular. Now I could see all of his fucking ribs.

And then he turned…

“Oh my God.” I started to reach out but froze mid-air. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Dante… what happened?”

His back was a mess of the same little lesions that were on his arms and hands… only they were so much worse, it was downright terrifying.

While we were making love, I’d felt the ridges underneath his T-shirt, of course.

But my body had been so focused on him… on what I was feeling… that it never registered on me that what I was feeling were actually wounds.

I’d thought, at the time, that they were just part of his T-shirt.

They weren’t.

“Dante,” the gasp left my throat. “What… what is that?”

He turned and stared. “Whip marks.”

“Whip marks?”

“Yes.”

“How…”

This wasn’t computing. Why would Dante stand still long enough to get those marks on his back. And they weren’t even all the way on his back. Now that I paid more attention to his front, they were on the side of his neck. His ribs. They even circled around his hips and curled around to his front. Down his pants.

What. The. Hell?

“When you left, Drake found me.”

“And he smacked you around with a whip, and you let him by just standing there?”

I really wasn’t seeing how this could happen…

“No, he caught me off guard.” He paused. “I was outside your house. My mind was fucked up. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d said to you—which I’m still fucked up about, by the way—and I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. Something hit me in the back of the head—they said it was probably a two-by-four—and when I woke up, I was in a cell underneath your old house.”

In a cell. Underneath my old house?

“For how long?” I whispered, my eyes closing in despair.

“For three and a half months.”

My eyes opened as a keening cry of utter despair left my mouth. “Three and a half months. And what did he do to you in those three and a half months?”

I was almost afraid to hear the rest.

Every night I had cursed him. I had been so freakin’ mad at him for not getting his head on straight faster, I couldn’t fucking think.

And all of this time… all of this time he’d been in a cell. A freakin’ cell. Being beaten.

“He whipped me. Tortured me. Starved me and humiliated me.”

“What did he do?”

Dante shook his head. “I won’t be telling you specifics.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to rage.

But I could see the resolve in his eyes.

He wouldn’t be telling me.

That I knew.

“How did you finally get away?”

What would he have had to do? If he’d been there for that long, then surely nobody could find him. Right?

“Drake got careless. Thought I was too weak to move—which was what he’d planned by only feeding me a slop and a slice of bread morning, noon and night. But one day while he was hosing out the cell to combat the smell, he got too close, and I struck. I choked him with the chains he had me—”

“Chains!”

“—held down with, and fed him the water he was using to spray me with. Once he went limp, I found his phone and called Rafe. The rest is still a blur. I don’t really remember what happened next.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Dante wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me in tight to his chest.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay.”

I could feel those raised scars underneath my fingers.

He was not okay.

“What about since you got away from him?” I whispered. “Were you in the hospital?”

He nodded.

“Drake got away. That’s why they didn’t call you to come.”

I nodded, throat thick with guilt.

I should’ve never left him.

And I told him as much.

“I needed you to leave,” he rasped. “If you hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have realized what I was missing. Without you, I wouldn’t have realized just how sad and bleak my life had become.”

I made another of those sounds in the back of my throat.

“He forgot to tell you about his problems stemming from his captivity.”

I froze in Dante’s arms, just as Dante cursed and let me go.

My eyes lit on Rafe in the entrance.

“What?”

Rafe’s eyes flicked from mine to Dante’s and back. “He has a muscle-wasting condition called rhabdomyolysis. The exertion from the fight, paired with his overtaxed heart—his dehydration, his lack of food, as well as the wounds on his body—could cause a heart attack. He was supposed to be taking it easy. He was supposed to be letting me come get you.”

Dante didn’t say a word.

I did, though.

“You mean to tell me that you’re supposed to be taking it easy, and you just had sex with me? That wasn’t taking it easy! There was nothing easy about it!” I semi-shrieked into Dante’s ear.

Dante pulled me into his chest again.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, it was pretty easy getting you into bed.” His grin was wide.

I hit him and then apologized before kissing the tiny hurt I must’ve just caused him.

“I’ll be okay,” he promised. “I am okay. Those circumstances aren’t going to happen again.”

I swallowed the bile that was making its way up my throat—a common occurrence as of late.

This bile felt differently, though.

I just knew that I was going to puke, so I took off toward the bathroom and lost what little lunch that I’d had left in me from earlier in the toilet.

“Rafe knew you were gone all this time, didn’t he?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Rafe.

“Yeah,” Dante croaked at the same time Rafe nodded his head.

Even his voice sounded different.

I lost my battle with the tears, and I dissolved.

Jesus Christ. I was a broken record today.