Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Imogene
My eyes fluttered open to rays of sun streaming in through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the space. I took a moment to adjust to my surroundings, my peaceful and quaint new home a stark contrast to the sterile hospital room I’d called home for the past two weeks.
I stretched in the luxurious bed before shifting onto my side, expecting to see Gideon next to me. Instead, his side of the bed was empty.
It reminded me of the morning a few weeks ago when I woke up in his house after what I thought was a breakthrough. I thought I’d finally reached him, cut through the iron walls he’d built up after everything he’d endured.
I thought we could be whole again.
Thought we could be us again.
Now we were.
So why did it feel...wrong?
I quickly pushed away the thought and slid out of bed, wincing slightly as I found my footing. Then I padded on light feet down the hallway, the smell of coffee like a beacon.
As I entered the kitchen, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted me. Gideon stood at the stove, his broad shoulders relaxed as he flipped bacon in the skillet. His hair was disheveled and a pair of gray sweatpants hung from his hips, revealing the intricate pattern of scars that dotted his toned torso.
Scars he once tried to hide.
Now he wore them like a badge.
Just like I wore mine.
As if sensing my gaze on him, he glanced over his shoulder and met my eyes with a warm smile that lit up his entire face.
“Morning,” he murmured as he approached me, brushing his lips against mine in a gentle kiss. “How did you sleep?”
“Amazing. It was so quiet and peaceful.”
“Are you hungry? I can whip up a frittata if you’d like. Or something else.”
“A frittata?”
He nodded, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Like you taught me all those years ago.”
“It’s one of my favorite memories,” I admitted. “Or perhaps I should say what happened after I showed you how to make a frittata is one of my favorite memories.” I smirked.
“Is that right?” He waggled his brows, his pupils flaming with lust.
“Most definitely.”
One of the first mornings we spent together, I’d woken up to surprise him with breakfast. At the time, he was more of a night owl, since it was the only time he had to work on his gaming platform with Liam.
But when he walked into the kitchen and saw me cooking, he asked me to teach him so he could make me breakfast.
Except neither one of us was able to keep our hands off each other, to the point that he hauled me onto the kitchen island and made me see stars.
The frittata definitely came out overcooked.
But true to his word, the next time he stayed over, I woke up to the delicious smell of bacon and eggs. And every morning we spent together after that, he continued to make me breakfast… Until I woke up one morning to that devastating phone call.
“How long did the doctor say we had to wait?” he groaned, his frustration evident.
“A few more weeks. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things.” I gave him a coy look as I ran my fingers down his stomach.
But before I could slip my hand underneath the waistband of his sweatpants, he scooped it up in his, brushing a soft kiss along my knuckles.
“You have no idea how much I’d love to do other things, but I want you to heal first. I don’t want to do anything that could cause you even more pain.”
“You should know by now that I like a little pain.” I dragged my body closer to his, desperate for a taste of the passion and fervor I craved.
“That I do.” His eyes darkened, and he covered my lips with his. But just as I started to deepen the exchange, he pulled away. “This is important to me. I want you to give yourself and your body the time it needs to recover.”
I frowned, swallowing hard through the lump forming in my throat.
Sensing my obvious disappointment, he looped an arm around my waist and dragged me flush against him. He dipped his head into the crook of my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
“Enjoy your rest, Imogene. The second the doctor gives you the all clear to resume regular activity, I plan on making up for lost time to the point that you’ll be walking bowlegged for days.” When he met my gaze, I caught a mischievous glint within. “If you can walk at all.”
I bit my lower lip to fight against the smile begging to be set free. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too.” He captured my mouth, his tongue briefly swiping against mine. “Why don’t you go sit on the terrace while I make you some breakfast? After being cooped up in that hospital, I’m sure you could use some fresh air and vitamin D.”
“I definitely could,” I agreed, allowing him to guide me toward the sliding glass doors off the living room.
As he helped me settle into one of the plush lounge chairs, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for this moment of peace. The sun shone brightly down on the ocean waves, causing them to glimmer, everything about my surroundings picturesque.
I’d always loved being near the water, especially once my mom met Lachlan and he taught me to surf. I may not have been all that good at it, but whenever I was out on the water, when it was just me and the ocean, I was able to clear my mind.
Figure out what was important.
“You’ll be back on your board soon enough,” Gideon said, able to read my thoughts. “For now, I hope living mere feet from the ocean is enough.”
“It’s more than enough,” I assured him.
“I’ll be back soon with breakfast.”
He left a gentle kiss on my lips, then disappeared inside.
I relaxed into my lounge chair, basking in the feel of the sun warming my face, drawing in a deep breath of the salty sea air. This was perfect.
As much as I thought it excessive for him to buy a house in Del Mar when he already had a stunning home just down the shore in La Jolla, I now understood his reasoning. This house represented a fresh start, a clean slate for us to build a future together that wasn’t tainted by lies or betrayal. Something we both deserved after everything.
“Here we are.” Gideon’s deep voice pulled my eyes from the water and toward him as he set a tray containing a few plates on the small table between us. “Spinach, mushroom, and feta frittata with bacon. Because someone once told me that bacon makes everything better.” He flashed me a wink.
“Sounds like a pretty smart person.”
“Most definitely.”
I grabbed the fork and sliced into the frittata, bringing it up to my mouth, biting back my moan at the first taste of real food in two weeks.
“I hope you like it. It’s been a few years since I’ve made breakfast for anyone. Or really cooked at all.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” I said through a tight smile, pushing down the reminder of precisely why he hadn’t cooked in so long. “You never really forget. And it’s perfect. Just like I remember.”
A gentle smile crossed his face as he reached for the folded newspaper on the breakfast tray. Opening it to a page toward the back, he set it on the table between us without saying another word.
He didn’t have to.
After all, this was once our morning routine — coffee, breakfast, and a crossword puzzle. They were some of my favorite memories of Samuel.
While I loved the connection I experienced whenever we made love, there was something about the quiet moments spent together as we ruminated over the various clues that felt even more intimate.
Maybe this was what I needed in order to push away my uncertainty. A reminder of what made us…us.
I picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, leaning close and scanning the first clue.
“Mythical bird reborn from the ashes,” he read.
“Phoenix,” we both answered at the same time, then broke out into laughter.
As we ate breakfast and worked on the crossword puzzle, we fell into an easy rhythm, laughing over clues, playfully arguing when we disagreed on an answer. It was so easy, as though no time had passed and nothing had changed.
But things had changed. I couldn’t shake the shadow of Gideon Saint looming in the back of my mind, like an itch I couldn’t reach. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter.
The man at my side was Samuel. My Samuel. The man I once loved so fiercely. The one who I thought I’d never see again.
I should be grateful I had him back. That he let go of the anger, the darkness, the relentless need for revenge.
But the question remained, even as I did everything to convince myself this was exactly what I wanted.
Could I truly let go of Gideon Saint for good?
And what would it mean for us if I couldn’t?