Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Gideon
“Where are we going?” Imogene asked as I drove north along the freeway after landing at a private terminal by San Diego airport.
Normally, I wouldn’t go through the trouble of flying from LA to San Diego when the drive typically only took a little more than two hours, depending on traffic.
But I wanted Imogene to be taken care of.
Despite the fact that she was getting better every day, she still struggled to get comfortable in a sitting position due to the injuries to her ribs. To ask her to be in pain for over two hours? I wasn’t going to do that. So I hired a private plane to fly us the hundred or so miles down the coast.
“I thought we were going home,” she continued.
“We are,” I said evenly, keeping my eyes on the road.
“But we just passed the exit for La Jolla.”
“I can’t take you to your place right now, Imogene.” I stole a glance at her to gauge her reaction. “There are reporters camped outside.”
“What about your house?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, either. All things considered, I think we both deserve a fresh start. That’s where I’m taking you. To what I hope can be our fresh start.”
“Fresh start,” she repeated, as if testing the words on her tongue. Then she reached across the center console, linking her fingers with mine. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too,” I murmured, bringing her hand to my lips, savoring in the feel of her skin.
I’d never take it for granted again. Not after those few harrowing hours when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel her warmth. Hear her voice. Taste her lips.
This was my second chance. I was going to do what I should have done months ago. I was going to stop living in the past and only worry about moving forward.
We drove in an easy silence up toward Del Mar, and I navigated to the gated community where Henry found the perfect beach bungalow for Imogene and me to live, at least for now. I’d only been here once, and only after Henry already bought it. I trusted his judgment, and he certainly delivered, especially as I led Imogene inside and her eyes widened at her surroundings.
The bungalow was one story, which was exactly what she needed right now. The open kitchen and dining room flowed seamlessly into the living room, the far wall made up of sliding glass doors with a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. While it was much smaller than the house I’d been living in, I much preferred this place. It had more charm and personality instead of being some huge monstrosity built on the shore. The only reason I bought the other house was because Liam had hoped to buy it.
But now that I was buying somewhere with Imogene in mind, I wanted it to be something she’d like.
Somewhere she could imagine living the rest of her life.
Somewhere like we once dreamed of building together.
“Do you want to see the bedroom?” I asked as she took in the soothing blue and gray tones of the living room.
“That would be great.”
“This way.” I led her down a hallway just off the foyer, steering her to the last door on the left. “It’s not nearly as big as the primary bedroom in my other house, but it still has a great view of the ocean.”
“It definitely does,” she said as she padded across the room and toward the French doors that opened onto the back patio.
“I had Henry bring a bunch of your things from your townhouse here, but if you’re missing something, make a list and I’ll grab it for you. Is there anything you need right now?”
She faced me. “Actually, now that my doctor has cleared me, I’d love to take a bath and wash my hair. Wash the hospital off me, if at all possible.”
“Right. The bathroom’s in here.” I moved toward the open door and flicked on the light, illuminating the space.
While it wasn’t as massive as the ensuite bathroom at the other house, it was just as opulent. Smooth marble vanity countertops gleamed under the warm lighting. An oversized shower with multiple shower heads beckoned from one side of the room, while a luxurious jetted tub awaited on the other.
“That tub looks like heaven,” she sighed. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to finally having a bath, especially now that my incisions have healed enough for me to do so.”
“I’ll give you some privacy then.” I started to turn, but her voice stopped me.
“Actually…” She trailed off, her frustration evident in the lines of her face.
“What is it?”
“It’s just…” She worried her bottom lip. “I haven’t been able to wash my hair in over a week. It hurt too much to lift my arms over my head. Still does. I…”
“You need help,” I stated, finishing her thought.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized sheepishly.
I touched her chin, forcing her gaze back to mine. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I just hate feeling like a burden.”
“You could never be a burden,” I assured her, pressing a tender kiss to her mouth. “Plus, a beautiful woman is asking me to take a bath with her? I’d be a fool to say no.”
She pinched her lips together, her playful side returning. “I don’t recall asking you to join me. Just for some help washing my hair. You don’t need to be in the tub to do that.”
“Is that what you want? To bathe alone?”
“Since you’re offering, I’d be remiss to pass up the opportunity.” She hoisted herself onto her toes, her lips brushing against mine.
It was an innocent gesture, but between the heat of her breath and her sultry tone, my cock was throbbing in my jeans.
It didn’t help that it had been weeks since I’d allowed myself to feel any sort of pleasure, even at my own hands. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle being in the tub with Imogene, feeling her naked skin against mine, without wanting to sink inside of her.
But as I removed her sling and carefully helped to lift her t-shirt over her head, all desire immediately vanished as my eyes fell on her bruised and scarred stomach.
Not because I found her hideous. That wasn’t the case at all.
This was the first time I’d seen the consequences of the car accident that nearly took her life.
The car accident I had a hand in, despite everyone’s insistence to the contrary.
Despite Imogene’s insistence to the contrary.
Now that I was seeing the patchwork of bruises still prominent against her pale flesh, even two weeks later, it took everything I had not to break down.
She clutched my cheeks, forcing my gaze toward hers. “It is not your fault,” she declared for what felt like the thousandth time since she woke up. “Say it.”
“What?”
“Say it, Gideon. Say ‘it’s not my fault.’”
I parted my lips and shook my head. “I can’t. I?—”
“For me. Say it for me,” she pleaded, her grip on my face tightening ever so slightly. “Because I can’t stand the idea that you’re going to keep burdening yourself with this.”
I attempted to protest again, but she cut me off.
“Please. For me.”
Her eyes practically begged for me to give her this. I didn’t want to. Didn’t want to do anything that would make her think I didn’t hold myself responsible. But it was impossible to deny her when she looked at me like this.
“It’s not my fault,” I finally conceded, each word a fight.
“There.” She beamed, her smile nearly stealing my breath. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“If I’m being honest, it was.”
“Then I’ll make you say that every day until you finally believe it.” She left a soft kiss on my cheek before heading toward the tub, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature until it was just right.
All I could do was marvel at how resilient she was. It shouldn’t have surprised me. It was one of the things that attracted me to her in the beginning. And it made me fall even more in love with her now.
After helping her out of her sweatpants, doing my best to keep my reaction to the rest of her bruises to myself, I held her steady as she climbed into the tub. Then I quickly discarded my clothes before sliding in behind her.
Reaching for the handheld shower nozzle, I turned it on and tested the temperature before running it over Imogene’s hair.
“Is the water okay?” I asked.
“It’s perfect.”
“Good.”
Once her hair was wet enough, I reached for her shampoo and squirt a little into my hands. Then I massaged it into her scalp, relishing in the familiar scent. She closed her eyes, her breathing soft and even as she melted into my touch.
“I’m sorry you have to do this,” she attempted to apologize again.
“Don’t apologize, Imogene.” I forced her stare toward mine, wanting her to see the truth in my words. “I want to be here. Want to take care of you. I love you.” I dipped my lips closer. “Unconditionally.”
“Unconditionally,” she repeated as I pressed my mouth against hers.
As my tongue swiped against hers in my first real taste of her since the accident, I could practically feel the pieces of us sliding back together.
The old us.
When I first decided to walk away from my plan of revenge, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. What my purpose in life would be.
Now I knew.
My purpose was Imogene. Taking care of her. Loving her unconditionally.
Like we promised all those years ago.