by Aly Martinez
“I’ve never told anyone. And I’m so fucking sorry it took me so long for me to tell you.”
“Okay,” she said. When her feet appeared in my line of sight, the book got pulled from my hand. “I’m going to say something. And I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I need to at least say it.”
My stomach wrenched. I’d take anything she wanted to throw at me. Insults. Anger. Disdain. It would probably kill me coming from Rhion. But, if it made her feel the smallest fragment better, I’d take it.
Using the back of my head, she pulled me down until her lips were at my ear and then whispered, “So. What.”
My gaze jumped to her face, and I swear to God the woman was grinning.
I blinked, but that fucking grin of hers never faltered.
“So what?” I repeated in disbelief.
“I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but how you saved me still doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” I rumbled, stepping away to gain some space.
But that fucking crazy woman wrapped both arms around my waist and pressed against me, front to front. “It really doesn’t, honey.”
“Bullshit!” I continued my retreat but got no closer to an escape.
I could have physically gotten her off me at any time, but deep down, a part of me didn’t want her to let go. The last few weeks with her had been an awakening, and not just from the years after the fire. But in my entire life. Consuming me positively and negatively, physically and mentally.
As though she could read my thoughts, she pushed up onto her toes and brushed her lips with mine, the contact doing wonders to alleviate the stress brewing within me.
“I’m sorry, Jude,” she whispered. “I hate more than anything else that you’ve lived with that alone for last four years. But you’re wrong. You have told someone else about that. You told me our first night together. And it changed exactly nothing. I’ve still been pursuing you for almost two months, knowing the truth. Because”—she paused, and a small smile hitched her lips—“it. Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.”
My jaw slacked open as my eyebrows shot up. “No way I told you that.”
“Oh, but you did.” Her smile widened. “You told me every gory detail about that night. Meanwhile, I was damn near delirious with happiness just to be in your arms.”
“Oh God,” I groaned.
“And I’m going to tell you the same thing I said to you right before you passed out. Fate’s a tricky beast. You made mistake after mistake that night, but no matter which way you spin it, you’re the only reason I’m standing here today.”
The knife twisted in my gut, but her hands slipped under the back of my shirt, holding me tight.
“That’s not fucking fate, Rhion. That’s a God’s honest miracle.”
“Oh, even better. Divine intervention,” she smarted.
Unable to take her touch anymore, I tore her arms away and then turned, pinning her against the wall. “That’s not what I meant!”
Arching her back to keep our bodies connected, she kept talking. “You were the only man on the scene when that house came down. Drinking or not, if you hadn’t taken the call that night, I’d have still been on that ledge when it fell. You got us far enough away so all that happened was you ended up with a broken leg. If you weren’t there, that would have been my skull. There is no way I would have survived that without you.”
I leaned down until our faces were inches apart and snarled, “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do. And, you know it too. You’re a good man, with a good heart and a wicked conscience. But you’re smart. So you know I’m right.”
I shook my head adamantly. “We live in two totally different worlds, Rhion.”
“Maybe. But, in yours, you’re living in the dungeons of what you could have done differently had you been sober or more courageous. In my world, you saved me, you’re falling in love with me, and I’m refusing to let go. There comes a point where you have to stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you made and step into the reality of what actually happened. You don’t want to be a hero? Fine. I’ll never utter the word again. The verbiage doesn’t change the outcome though.”
I wasn’t convinced, and the familiar pressure I’d been carrying for years inflated my chest all over again. “Those books…”
“Are. Not. Real,” she implored, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I stopped writing about the two of us a year ago. I’m currently writing a book about Maleficent and Prince Philip. She’s terrible, but I’m making the reader believe he’s good. And he’s amazing, but I’m making the reader believe he’s bad before the big ending where it all comes to light.” She pressed her lips to mine. “You are not in there.” Kiss. “I am not in there.” Kiss. “There is no fire.” Deep and lingering kiss. “It’s just words.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was that.
Closing my eyes, I confessed. “I want this with you, ya know. So fucking bad. Not because of the bullshit and guilt over the fire. But because you’re incredible—off-the-charts nutty, but that’s perfect because I can be really fucking dry sometimes.”
“Mercurial,” she corrected.
My lips twitched as I opened my eyes. “That too.” The pressure in my chest slowly ebbed away as she stared up at me. “After I read some of those books, it was the first time since we got together that I felt like maybe I wasn’t the right man for you.”
Her eyebrows painfully pinched together, but it was a joke that escaped her lips. “Don’t be silly. It’s all part of the prophecy.”
I laughed, moving my arms around her hips. Hugging her tight against my chest, I rested my chin on the top of her head. “I hate that we have this shit between us.”
“I don’t. No one in the entire world understands what it was like for me that night except you. I’ve never been ashamed of my scars, but our first night together, you traced over them and told me they were yours. You made me feel like they were something beautiful.”
I dropped my lips to her shoulder. “They’re part of you, Rhion. They’ll always be beautiful.”
Her smile spread wide across her face. “You want to go to bed and I’ll tell you everything we talked about that night?”
“Oh, now, you want to talk,” I said sarcastically.
“Sure, because now, I’m not mortified anymore. Though, if I ever uncover the recipe for that memory eraser, tonight will be the first thing that goes.”
I turned serious again. “Butterfly, you could have told me. And I know that’s hypocritical considering the shit I’ve been harboring. But, just so you know, there is nothing you can’t tell me. I’m in this with you. So fucking deep.”
She plastered her small frame against my front in unspoken understanding.
We stood there, silently holding each other, years of hurt and anguish melting away from the undeniable heat between us. I hated everything we’d had to endure both separately and together to get to that moment, but maybe Rhion was right.
It wasn’t the how that mattered.
We’d gotten there.
And, as I guided her back to the bed, listened to her talk for over an hour, and then fell asleep with her nestled against my chest, I had every intention of staying—forever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jude
Time sped up over the next three weeks as Rhion tunneled herself deeper under my skin until I wasn’t sure where I ended and she began. Yes, I worked for her. So most of our days were spent tooling around town, doing whatever errands she wanted or needed to do. But I could count on one hand how many nights I’d slept in my own bed, and slowly but surely, my belongings had begun reproducing at her apartment. My bag still sat in the corner of the room, not yet having graduated to the closet or the dresser, but just as many of my things as hers cluttered the bathroom counter. Rhion’s place had started to feel like home.
Actually, everything about Rhion felt like home. The best thing that happened to us was my fin
ding those books. It had springboarded our relationship to a level I hadn’t been sure we’d ever reach with the secrets of our past weighing us down. Rather than avoiding conversation about the fire any longer, we talked about it. A lot. We’d even taken a trip out to Park Hill Estate a few days after things had settled down again. She hadn’t been there since the fire, and just as I had the first time I’d visited, she’d struggled. While the house had been cleared away and never rebuilt, it still held more than enough memories to transport us back to that night.
During the hours we sat there staring at the empty lot, she told me all about waking up in that burning house. Just her. Alone. Terrified with no way out. It was all I could do to listen to her without it shredding me. But, after I’d heard her talk, I felt like maybe my being there that night had done wonders for Rhion’s fight for survival.
I still refused to take credit for saving her, but at least she hadn’t been alone.
And, if I had anything to say about it, she never would be again.
Over the last few weeks, I’d had the absolute honor of watching Rhion Park fall. Again.
But, this time, she was falling for me.
My Butterfly was beautiful. Still a little broken. Still a little scared. But weren’t we all?
Just because the truth had come out didn’t mean my guilt from that night had magically evaporated. I still dealt with it each time I felt the scars on the back of my head, but it no longer burned when she touched them. And I was starting to believe that maybe I’d been right that drunken night in her apartment, because every day that passed, Rhion was healing me in unfathomable ways.
While there had yet to be any professions of love on either side, it was an absolute fact we both knew. Love blazed in her eyes every morning when she woke up molded around me. And it blazed in my chest every minute of every day.
It was now the week before Thanksgiving, and I was sitting on her couch, drinking a beer with Leo, Devon, Braydon, Alex, and, yes, Johnson at the unofficial-official Guardian Thanksgiving Feast. We were attempting to watch the football game while the mouthwatering fragrance of turkey cooking wafted through the air, but every ten seconds, Rhion would nervously flitter by, blocking our view.
A company had been by early that morning to deliver giant tables and what had to be at least two-dozen chairs. I’d had no idea where the hell all of it was going to fit. Rhion’s apartment was big, but I’d had to climb over the back of the couch in order to get a cup of coffee while they had been setting up. When I’d attempted to voice my concern, she’d banished me to her room to get showered and dressed. Sure enough, half an hour later, I’d emerged to find a horseshoe of tables covered in tablecloths, lavish orange-and-brown-feather centerpieces, and enough place settings—including real silver—to seat the entire crew of Guardian Protection. It wasn’t until then that I’d realized overkill was a synonym for full-assing Thanksgiving.
“You gotta stop pacing, babe,” I called out as all the guys leaned to the side to keep watching the game around her. “You’re making me anxious.”
She stopped, crossing her arms over her chest, and glared at me. “Then perhaps you should get up and pace too, babe.”
I chuckled and tipped the beer up to my lips.
She’d been a mess all day. The chefs had been late, and when they’d gotten there, they’d brought the wrong size turkeys. This had resulted in Rhion shooting laser beams from her eyes and shrieking in a voice that was so high-pitched that it wasn’t even audible to the human ear. Just when I thought her head was going to explode, I wrapped her in my arms and got on the phone to order a ham. She was grateful and hugged me tight around the hips just seconds before ordering me to call back and get two.
Through all of this, I sent up thanks that Leo’s wife, Sarah, was responsible for the Christmas party. My girl did not take entertaining lightly.
“Rhion, you gotta move or I’m going upstairs to watch the game,” Johnson said. “I’ve missed every first down since I got here.”
Her glare sliced to him. “Aidan, you take one step toward that door and you’re out of this year’s secret Santa drawing.”
Devon suddenly pushed to his feet. “Shit, that’s all I gotta do to get out of that?”
Rhion’s expression turned murderous, and she used an extremely scary finger to motion for him to sit down.
He wisely obeyed.
“Okay,” I said, standing up and guiding her out of the way of the TV. “Can we have a word in private?”
“No. She should be here any minute. I want to be the one to greet her when she arrives.”
Ah, yes. Yet another reason Rhion was in a tailspin. The infamous stepsister was coming.
I’d learned a lot about Katie Spencer, but I was no closer to figuring out how I felt about her. Rhion loved her—and hated her depending on the day of the week you asked. But, even when she was complaining about Katie, it had a sibling-rivalry feel to it. However, after a long talk with Johnson, I’d found out that he was not Katie’s biggest fan. He’d informed me that the only time she appeared in Rhion’s life was when it benefited Katie. That shit was not going to fly with me. So, when Rhion had told me this morning that Katie was coming, I’d had to admit that a part of me was eager to finally meet her.
“Johnson can greet her,” I mocked. “You need a breather. You’re gonna give yourself high blood pressure if you keep this up.”
“Ooooh, no. I’m going to be the one to greet Katie. She’s avoided my calls for months. And then I get a text saying she’s coming over today.” She laughed. “I don’t think so. And, just so there is no confusion, she will also not be allowed to participate in the secret Santa drawing.”
“Lucky chick,” Devon grumbled.
Rhion flipped him off without ever tearing her gaze from mine.
“Maybe she’s coming to apologize. I thought you loved her.”
“I do love Katie! But she gave her mother, the real-world equivalent of Voldemort, my address and security card! She does not get to apologize on a day when my family gets together to give thanks for another year of life. The day I look forward to all year. I spent five hours hand-rolling three-dozen biscuits last night. You avoid me for months, you don’t get my delicious, baked-with-love biscuits.”
They really were good fucking biscuits. But she only had two dozen and ten left; I’d snagged a pair off the baking sheet while she’d been folding linen napkins. I didn’t dare mention that.
“Okay. So tell the security room not to buzz her up. You won’t have to see her. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and you can stop stressing.”
“Pssh. Yeah, right. And miss my opportunity to tell her off in person? No, thank you. Katie and I are going to chat. It may or may not end with her sitting at the dinner table, but no matter what, you make sure she does not get a biscuit.”
I gave her a teasing side-eye and asked, “No biscuits? On Thanksgiving? My girl’s a true savage.”
She cuddled in close. “You don’t know the half of it. I’m also going to rig it so Devon gets Alex for a secret Santa this year. Alex always gives socks.”
I laughed and dipped low to press a kiss to her mouth. “You’re crazy, Butterfly.”
“You like it,” she murmured against my lips
I didn’t. Not anymore.
I loved it. So. Fucking. Much.
“Get a room!” Lark called, walking through the door with a pair of identical redheaded little girls in tow.
“Rhion!” they both squealed in unison and took off at a sprint before careening into her legs.
Rhion’s entire face split into a megawatt grin as she squatted and hooked them into a group bear hug. “Hey, sweets.”
“Daddy say you killed da turkey with you bare hands,” one of the girls said.
The other added, “After you wrestled it to da ground.”
I arched an eyebrow at Lark, but he was too busy beaming with pride at his baby girls to notice.
“Did he now?” Rhion twisted her lip
s and tipped her head back to scowl at him.
He feigned innocence. “What? Braydon told me you were working at a slaughterhouse.”
Everyone laughed, including Rhion, who stood up and looped an arm around my waist and announced, “Mum’s the word.” And then her body locked up tight as a woman’s voice came from the front door.
“Knock. Knock,” Katie said, timidly peeking her head inside.
Considering she graced nearly half of the picture frames in Rhion’s apartment, I immediately recognized her. She was cute, albeit a little mousy for my taste, but it didn’t escape me the way Devon and Alex suddenly straightened in their seats when she walked in.
Rhion strolled to the door. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Katie lifted her hands in surrender and flashed her gaze around the room. “I come in peace.”
Johnson grumbled something under his breath and went back to watching the game, though I could tell he was paying studious attention to Rhion and Katie out of the corners of his eyes. I followed his lead and walked to the makeshift bar Rhion had set up to keep us out of the kitchen while the chefs did their thing.
“Long time no see,” Rhion said as I twisted the top off a beer.
“I brought you a surprise,” Katie announced.
My body went stiff as I cut my gaze to Johnson and found him rising to his feet.
“What kind of surprise?” he asked.
Doing my best to keep it casual, I eased back to Rhion’s side and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Yes. I’d love to hear more about this surprise. Hi. I’m Jude.”
Katie’s gaze jumped to me, her eyes drifting to my arm, confusion and shock registering in her dull, brown eyes “It…it’s a peace offering,” she stammered.
Rhion’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she said, “You gave your mother my address and then dodged me for two months. It better be a Saint Bernard puppy I can name Mozart if you expect to be forgiven.”
