Chapter 21 Lana #3
“I talked to Ben this morning,” she says quietly, her mug in her hand and I wonder if that’s why she’s wearing those clothes today. Yeah, that must be why.
“How did it go?” I ask blankly although she must sense my hand freezing on her thigh.
“It was…well, things took an unexpected turn.” She rests her mug on the table and pulls her hair behind her ears.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask, my mind rushing into dark places, imagining all the things I will do to her ex once I find him.
I’d keep him alive, sure. But there are other ways someone can get hurt without dying.
Like sewing back the wounds after you cut through the skin. He’d heal, but he would never forget.
“No, no,” she shakes her head, “he… He threatened to take Noah away from me.” Her voice flinches, like a knife went straight into her heart.
My jaw tightens, the blood under my skin sizzling with wrath.
I keep my mouth shut, ‘cause she’s not done.
“He said he would find people to testify against me as a bad mom, and it… It made me angry. So angry. I felt like there was a fire in my gut, that’s how mad he made me,” she explains, her little chocolate brows furrowed.
I don’t move, focused on every single movement in her face.
“I fought back. I told him I had proof of what he did to me back then. Photos, videos. I even showed him one because he didn’t believe me.
When he saw it…his face turned white. He stared at me like I’d burned him,” she says, her tone even, calm.
“I told him I had enough proof to build a case against him and that I would file a complaint if he ever tried to threaten me again.” The shock of her mentioning photos and videos of his beatings makes my heart tighten.
I wish I could’ve been there back then. I wish I could’ve protected her from him.
What she had to put up with...is beyond anything anyone should ever go through.
“And what did he say?” I try, carefully watching her features.
She takes a deep inhale. “At first, he said nothing. I guess he was trying to figure out how to get away with it, but…for once, he couldn’t, so he just agreed and left.
Can you believe it? He agreed… It's crazy to me. I never thought…not once in a lifetime.” She shakes her head, her hand covering her mouth.
“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her, my hand reaching her face to cup her jaw. Lana has come a long way from fearing her ex to standing up to him, and I’ve been lucky enough to witness her change. She’s a force of nature. I'm all too aware of the luck I have to call her mine.
“I’m…I’m proud of myself too.” She smiles. “It’s over, it’s really over now.” Her stunning caramel gaze turns watery. “I can finally move on from this.” This time, her pupils dilate, and she leans in. She bats her long eyelashes, and it knocks the air right out of me.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” I ask.
“Yes,” she breathes out. I close the rest of the space between us and lean into the most delicious offer I’ve ever been given. Her lips are soft and full, her scent invading my every sense. She moves her hand to my nape and pulls herself closer to me.
I break our kiss for a second and stare at her beautiful face, “Is this okay?” I ask, and she nods back at least five times, her eyes stuck on my mouth.
She kisses me again, this time with more urgency, as if she were running out of time or maybe…
Maybe as if she was finally letting go of fear.
All this time, her fire was there, inside her, only it was contained, afraid to spread and devour everything on its way.
Lana isn’t afraid anymore. I know it in my bones and from the way she lifts herself on her knees to tower over me on the couch.
Am I rushing her? How can I be sure that she’s ready?
I can’t bear the idea of hurting her. I keep my hands on her waist, careful not to overstep.
“Are you sure?” I ask in one breath, her little body pressed against mine.
“I am sure,” she states without a doubt.
The next second, I hoist her in my arms and carry her upstairs.
She rests her head in the crook of my neck, my heart pulsing against the side of her body as my mind thinks of every detail I need to focus on to make sure I’m reading her right.
There are only three doors, one open with a bathtub behind it and one with Noah’s name spelled into large blue letters and soccer stickers on it.
“Over there.” She points at one of the doors.
Holding her body with one arm, I open it and step into her little heaven.
The bed in the middle of the room is decorated with orange and pink pillows.
There’s a small plant hanging from the ceiling and thick beige curtains concealing the window.
She has a large wood dresser and a light color rug with a foot-length mirror in the corner of the room.
Frames, lilac candles, and small objects are displayed on the dresser.
As I carry her to her bed like a bride on her wedding day, I’m hit by the delicate scent of honey coming from her sheets.
I lay her down carefully, but I remain standing, next to the bed, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
This isn’t my first ride, but Lana’s different. Everything about her is.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I state in a neutral tone.
“You won’t. You’d never,” she replies quickly without an ounce of doubt in her chestnut pupils. She’s sitting on her bed, her legs folded under her thighs, looking at me from below with her big doe eyes, and I clench my hand at the sight.
“What if I trigger you in some way? I could harm you without even knowing,” I say flatly, even though the words burn my tongue. She shakes her head, her brows furrowing lightly. Is she worried? Afraid?
“You won’t. I…I trust you.” Resting her hand on my chest, and probably sensing the beat of my heart under her palm. I may look like a block of ice, but underneath, everything has already spread into an uncontrollable wildfire.
My breath hitches as I stare at her, my hands shaking. “ What if I hurt you, and you turn away from me… I…I love you, Lana, and I could never forgive myself.” I cup the side of her face, my thumb brushing against her cheek, and she leans into my touch instinctively, closing her eyes for a moment.
“You…love me?” she murmurs, her lower lip trembling as her voice cracks under the weight of my revelation. Her hands clutch the hem of my shirt, twisting nervously, as she looks up at me.
“Love doesn’t even cover it.” I shake my head, my fingers running in her hair to rest on her nape. “You’re everything to me.” I declare, my voice hoarse, deep, shaken to the core.
“Carter,” she breathes, then lifts herself onto the bed, both feet planted as she pulls me into a kiss.
I’m still standing, my hands locking around her waist and neck, wishing I could hold her forever.
This time, I kiss her back with the same urgency she’s giving me.
Her touch grows more certain, and my chest tightens at the sheer trust she’s placing in me.
I let my hands move slowly, deliberately, cupping her waist and resting beneath her ribs, where I know she feels safe.
I’m careful, anchoring her instead of overwhelming her.
She exhales softly against my mouth, and that sound…
That sound shreds every boundary I’ve built around my heart.
She breaks the kiss just enough to look at me.
“I’m not afraid of you…so stop being afraid for me,” she whispers, steady and sure, reading me like an open book.
I draw in a breath. If she’s telling me this, I need to believe it, I need to trust that I’m not screwing everything up right now.
She wants this as much as I do. But I need one more thing to be completely sure.
One final test, to know she’s truly ready for us to cross that line.
“Do you trust me?” I ask quietly, our breaths heavy and loud, tangling in the charged air between us.
She nods without hesitation. I pull back a few inches, keeping one hand on her waist while reaching for the knife I always keep tucked in the back pocket of my jeans.
The quiet click of the blade unfolding cuts through the room as I watch her reaction.
If she truly trusts me, she won’t be afraid.
Her pupils stay wide, unchanged. Her breathing remains steady. Her skin doesn’t break a sweat.
No fear.
Not a trace.
Opening her palm, I place the knife in her hand.
“If I ever step out of line, I want you to stop me,” I say, my voice cold, sharp as the blade.
Her beautiful brows draw together. “If I ever make you feel unsafe, afraid…then swear to me you’ll take this knife,” I tap the spot over my heart, “and drive it in. Until I no longer breathe.”
“Carter…” she murmurs, her eyes glossing over with emotion.
“Until I no longer breathe,” I repeat, needing her to understand this isn’t a request, it’s a vow. “Swear it, Lana,” I say, as gently as I can.
“I…I swear,” she finally says, her small hand tightening around the handle. The room falls into silence, only our breathing filling the space.
She’s trusting me to take care of her, and I will.
I vow to.
LANA
This moment was so perfect, until I ruined it. Minutes after I let the knife fall onto the bed, my breathing turns sharp and uneven. I’m spiraling over something so small, yet it freezes me in place. Carter stands there, steady as ever, waiting in that quiet, patient way he always does.
“Sorry, I’m-” I shake my head, feeling like an idiot for what I’m about to say, “I’m nervous.” I admit.
“Lana,” he grounds me with his voice, deep and steady, taking my chin gently in his palm and lifting it so our eyes meet. His cobalt gaze is dark, dilated, an ocean I’m drowning in. I fidget, arms folding across my chest, which is silly because that’s the opposite of what I really want to do.
“You’re perfect,” he says, kneeling in front of me. His hands find mine so gently, like he’s approaching a wounded animal.
Always gentle.
Always tender.
Always patient.
He kisses the backs of my hands like a knight kneeling to his queen and murmurs, “I’ll kiss every inch of you until you no longer think you’re not good enough.
To me, you are perfect. Where you see a flaw, I see a story.
Where you see a scar, I see strength.” My insecurities soften under his words.
The ones I needed to hear to finally let go.
My stretch marks, my scars, they won’t push him away.
My past that is written all over my skin isn’t scaring him, and my heart skips a beat at the thought of it.
True love doesn’t hurt you or leave you in pieces.
True love builds you back up and heals you in the most beautiful way.
I nod, tears filling my eyes, and I lean in to kiss him.
“Promise me we’ll always stay this way,” I whisper, wishing I could freeze this moment in time. He grins, a little, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Always Lana, always.” Then he takes my face in his calloused hand and gently pushes me to the middle of the bed, leaving room for his giant body to cover mine. I run my fingers on his jaw and revel in the way he looks at me with his heart-stopping blue gaze.
“I never thought…” he stops himself, his tone low, mesmerized.
“Neither did I,” I murmur back, because I don’t even need him to finish his sentence to know what he wants to tell me. That he never thought he could find the right person to love him for who he is. I know it because I feel it too.
“I love you, sweetness,” he tells me before kissing me deeply, and this time, I don’t shy away or get self-conscious.
This time, I unfold like a flower bathing in the sun, our eyes never breaking contact, as if we both knew that this moment was monumental, earth-shattering.
Our journey has just begun, but I know I’m on the right path now, holding the hand of the man who will love me and protect me every step of the way.
“I love you,” I say softly, like a chant.
Eager to tell him my love again and again until the end of time.
His care makes the thick layer of paint I had worn like a cloak of shame slowly fade.
His love washes all of it away. The hurt.
The bruises. The unbearable guilt. Tomorrow, the sun will rise again, but this time, I’ll leave the shadows of my past behind and step into this new beginning with Carter by my side.
I shut my eyes and breathe him in, tucking myself into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping around me like a shield.
He holds me close as we become one breath, one heartbeat, one quiet promise.
Later, I rest my cheek against his chest while his fingers trace slow circles along my back, both of us wrapped in a sacred kind of silence that belongs only to us.
“You okay?” he murmurs, and I can feel his gaze fixed gently on me.
“Yes…more than okay,” I assure him with a soft smile. “I know it’s not even lunch yet, but…how would you feel about pancakes?” I ask quietly, smiling against his skin as I hear the quiet rumble of his chuckle.
“Pancakes sound perfect, sweetness,” he says, kissing the top of my head, and I sigh.
Perfect.
Yes, that’s the word.
The End