CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Brick
I wake up in my room, Starlet curled up in a chair beside the bed, sleeping. My right arm is in a sling and I’m hungrier than a ravenous dog. I remember everything that happened at the cabin, including Starlet taking a shot at Silver. I try to piece together the rest, the doc pumping me full of antibiotics and pain meds. I had a high fever and infection, and no one was allowed in my room except Eagle.
The pain is minimal as I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress and stand up. I walk to the other side of the bed and squat in front of Starlet. “Hey, baby. Wake up.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she stares at me. “Brick? Oh my God, what are you doing out of bed?”
“Easy.” I cover one of her hands with mine. “I’m okay. Not sure how I ended up in our bedroom, but the fever is gone.”
She cups my cheek, her green eyes full of concern and love. “Eagle and Axe carried you in here last night. It’s been four days since Silver shot you.”
I’ve been out for four days? No wonder my legs are a little shaky and my stomach is raising hell. “The best thing I can do is move around, Starlet. I need to get my strength back.”
“Absolutely,” she agrees as I give her the necessary room to stand.
I want to touch her so bad, make love to her—finish what we started at the cabin. “What happened to Silver?”
She averts her eyes. “He’s dead.”
I reach for her but she flinches, so I lower my hand. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I’ve had too much time to think about what happened—what could have happened if you died, Brick.” She meets my gaze, her eyes full of tears. “I killed Silver. Even though I’d do it again if it meant saving you. What does that make me?”
This time I caress her cheek, loving the softness of her pale skin. She leans into my hand, tears wetting my fingers. “It makes you brave and loyal. Shows me I picked the perfect woman to spend my life with. I owe you my life.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I believe we’re even.”
“If you only knew the half of it,” I say as I pull her into my chest, holding on tight with my good arm.
There’s still things I’ll never tell her, secrets I’ll take to the grave. Countless faces of the pieces of shit I’ve killed or wreaked havoc on in the name of the Iron Norsemen. That’s who I am and what I do. But Starlet has changed me, too. Made me think about the man I’ve been and the one I want to become. Temperance is a virtue I’ve never possessed, until now.
I bury my face in her long, red hair, breathing in the soft scent of flowers that I’ve come to associate with Starlet. “The bastard is dead, baby. That means we’re free to be who we want to be. You did that, not me.”
She pulls back and looks up at me. “I’ve missed you so much. When I found you on the ground … God, Brick.” She snuggles into my chest again, crying.
Sonofabitch. A man can’t hold his woman properly with one arm. Very carefully, I slip my arm out of the sling. I figure if I don’t lift it above my head I should be okay. Hugging her close, I close my eyes, thanking whatever higher power there is for sending me this spirited, loyal woman. If she hadn’t found me when she did, I’d be dead—there’s no doubt about it.
I rest my chin on the top of her head, thinking back on how we arrived at this moment. How I struggled with the idea of Louisiana. And when I finally crossed the state line, headed to Holly Beach, the first person I met was Starlet. If that’s not a sign, what is?
“I love you, Starlet. Nothing can change that. Even if you have a longer hit list than I do.”
“Brick!”
I can hear her smile. “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”
She shakes her head. My stomach gurgles again, three times louder than before.
“Goodness,” she says. “You need food.”
“I need you.”
“Food first,” she says. “I’m your dessert.”
Not able to argue with that, I wander over to the dresser and pull out a T-shirt. I’m already wearing basketball shorts. I pull it over my head, one-handed, careful not to disturb the bandages on my shoulder.
“Forgetting something?” she asks, crossing her arms.
Checking myself in the mirror above the dresser, I shake my head. “Nope, everything looks perfect to me.”
“Yes, Mr. Arrogant, four days in bed and a bullet hasn’t done anything to your perfect face and hair.”
I smile so hard it hurts. “Did Dr. Evans give you the bullet?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” I watch as she opens a drawer in the nightstand and takes out a metal box. “Why would you want to keep it?”
“It’s like a trophy.”
“No. Trophies are what you get for winning a state championship in sports or the national spelling bee.”
“I’m a shitty speller and an even worse team player.”
She joins me by the dresser and offers me the tin. “.45 caliber.”
I open the container and stare at the mushroom-shaped bullet. “Maybe I’ll make a piece of jewelry out of it.”
She rolls her eyes and waves me off. That’s when I notice the bling on her left hand. “Starlet?” I catch her fingers, finding the engagement ring I bought for her. “Where did you get this?”
Looking guilty, she frowns. “In your pocket. I’m so sorry, Brick. I know I should have put it away, but it gave me something to look forward to, hope that you’d pull through.”
I scrub my face and let her hand go. Can’t get mad at her for that. And it makes the asking part that much easier. “Sorry for the unromantic moment,” I say, kneeling on one knee in front of her. “But I can’t have you walking around wearing my engagement ring without asking you to marry me, can I?”
She covers her mouth with one hand, her eyes glittering with joy. “No, you most certainly can’t.”
There’s a hundred different reasons to love her—all of them worth mentioning. But it’s her heart I want most. It’s the best part of her—the purest one I’ve ever encountered. “I love you, Starlet. All of you. Even the broken parts. I promise to be faithful. Patient. And above all else, to stay in one place long enough to put down some roots. Marry me, sweetheart?”
She trembles slightly as she slowly joins me on the floor. We’re on the same level now, and she caresses my cheek. “I love you. Thank you for saving me, Austin. For giving me a reason to believe in myself again. For filling my empty heart with love. Yes. I want to be Mrs. Nomad.”
“Anderson,” I correct her.
“Nomad,” she counters.
Fuck it. I plunder that smartass little mouth, our tongues swirling together with need and excitement. Everything I ever wanted, ever need, is sitting right in front of me. And as soon as I’m done loving her, the first thing I’m going to do is cut that nomad patch off my leather. I have every reason to stay—every reason to live. Every reason to forget the past and welcome whatever future we choose together.