Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
EILIDH
E veryone was afraid to let me out of their sight.
Feeling guilty for putting them through this, I’d fought my exhaustion as we crowded together in my parents’ living room.
But now it was almost midnight. Only my parents, Fyfe, Millie, and Mor lingered. Mor should be in bed, but instead she was cuddled into my side like a little girl. We lay back on the couch, feet up on the chaise, my arm around her as she snuggled against me. I stroked my wee sister’s hair in reassurance as our family milled around us.
My aunts and uncles had taken turns popping in to visit after I returned from a quick trip to the emergency room. I’d lost consciousness mostly from shock, though I did have a few bumps and bruises. My chin was swollen and bruised, along with my right eye and cheek. Mum kept bringing over a fresh ice pack to put on my eye until I waved her off, needing a break from the chill of it pressed to my skin.
The adrenaline coursing through my body had dulled the pain. It was only now, hours after the altercation, that the throbbing made itself known. I could feel Fyfe’s eyes on me the whole evening, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He and Millie were staying at my parents’ tonight. I’d given them the annex. Millie was sleeping in a travel cot beside him while my family spoke in hushed tones. Lewis and Callie had reluctantly left a few hours ago to put Harley to bed. My aunts and uncles had slowly departed after that.
Mum and Dad were freaked out and attempting not to show how freaked out they were. I knew one of the reasons they’d secretly hated my career choice was because of the fame. Of the scrutiny it would bring. Of the strange folks who might fixate on me.
Their worst fear had come true.
Mine too.
Peter Pryor had hidden the darkness in him until he no longer could. He was under police supervision while he recovered from his two gunshot wounds (one in each shoulder). The police here coordinated with the Met Police in London. His attack on me was enough to get a hastily processed warrant, and they’d recovered his computer from his home this evening. Fyfe assured my family there was enough evidence on it to put Peter Pryor away for a long time. I despised the fact that there were strangers in the police department combing through recordings of me in my most private moments. And I dreaded the upcoming court case and the media frenzy it would cause.
Yet there was relief in knowing who was behind the violation. Relief in knowing he couldn’t hurt me again.
“I think Eilidh needs rest,” Fyfe said.
I still couldn’t look at him.
“Of course.”
“Will you sleep in my bed, Eils?” Mor asked quietly.
I also hated that this darkness I’d attracted had leaked into my family, affecting them too. “Aye,” I promised. I pushed to my feet and Morwenna came with me. Kissing my mum and dad, I waved in Fyfe’s direction without meeting his gaze and called good night to everyone.
Mor’s bedroom was a bookworm’s dream. Mor and Allegra McCulloch had painted a mural of a misty forest on the wall where Mor’s bed was placed. The largest wall in the room was filled with floor-to-ceiling custom shelves, stacked to the brim with books. There was even a ladder on a rail so she could reach the top shelves. Fairy lights were strung around her wrought iron bed frame. The room reminded me of innocence and magic, things I was sorely lacking this evening.
After we’d dressed for bed, we got in and Mor snuggled deep against me. Exhausted, she was out within minutes.
I, however, couldn’t sleep.
Not just because today’s attack kept playing over and over in my mind, making my heart race and palms slick with sweat, not just because my face was pulsing with pain … but because I owed Fyfe an apology. I couldn’t say it in front of an audience. But I didn’t think I could sleep until he knew how sorry I was.
Though my parents were quiet, I heard them come upstairs and close themselves in their bedroom. A while later, being careful not to wake Mor, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed downstairs. Sticking my feet into boots I kept at the side entrance, I let myself out and hurried over to the annex.
I knocked softly. “Fyfe?”
Almost immediately, I heard movement inside and a few seconds later, the door swung open.
Fyfe stepped back to allow me entrance and then closed the door behind me.
The travel cot was set up by the bed and Millie was sound asleep.
Tears brightened my eyes, her wails from earlier filling my mind.
I whirled on Fyfe. He’d put on his glasses and though his hair was mussed and he was half-dressed, he didn’t appear as if I’d woken him up. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered on a sob. “I’m so sorry.”
His expression tightened before he drew me into his arms.
I buried my face against his naked chest, my tears wetting his skin as I cried quietly.
“Hush. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he declared firmly as he stroked a hand down my hair.
I shook my head. “I put Millie in danger.”
“No.” Fyfe drew me back and gently cradled my bruised face, his head bending to mine. “Baby, no. Please don’t take that on.”
“Wh-what i-if s-s-something ha-happened t-to her?” I stuttered, struggling to breathe properly through my tears.
Fyfe pressed a firm kiss to my forehead before leading me over to the bed. He took both my hands in his. “Breathe, baby.” He pulled in a breath through his nose and slowly exhaled. “Copy me.”
My grip on his hands had to be bruising, but Fyfe didn’t react, just breathed with me until I’d calmed down.
Eventually, he slid an arm around my shoulders. “Is that why you wouldn’t look at me earlier? Because you feel guilty?”
“Yes.”
“I … I was worried you were mad at me. Because I told you that you were safe in my house.”
I gaped at him in shock, feeling even worse for my behavior. “No. Fyfe, no. Never.”
Familiar guilt reflected in his eyes. “I didn’t keep you safe.”
“You saved me.” Now I cupped his face, his short beard scratching my palms.
“You were doing a pretty damn good job of saving yourself.”
My lips trembled. “Is Millie okay?”
“She’s completely fine. A resilient wee girl who will never remember this day.” Fyfe brushed his fingertips over my swollen cheek. “If that gun was in my hand and not Walker’s, I would have put the bullet through his head.”
I shivered at the thought, curling my fingers around his strong wrist. “Then it’s a good thing you didn’t have the gun. I need you here, Fyfe. Not in prison.”
He grew alert. “ Do you need me?”
Fresh tears burned my eyes. “Far longer than you’ve ever known.”
Fyfe shook his head. “I wish I’d been who I am now back then. Instead of wasting all that time.”
I took his hand in mine. “Let’s make a pact … starting now, we learn from the past, but we stop living in it.”
His grip on me tightened. “I can do that.”
A sweet silence fell between us as we stared at our entwined hands. Then I admitted quietly, “I can’t sleep. I keep … seeing him.”
“Stay with me. I’ll hold you, watch over you.”
Nodding, I kicked off my boots and then slipped into bed. Fyfe removed his glasses, placing them on the bedside cabinet, and slid in beside me. Without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms like I’d always belonged there. I nestled against him, my good cheek pressed to his pecs, the warm weight of his hand comforting on my hip.
“Do you remember when we were kids and we all went camping? You let me stay in your tent, even though I was always making you uncomfortable with my flirting.”
Fyfe squeezed me. “I shared my tent with you because you made me laugh and you always made me feel like I was worth something. I shared my tent with you because I wanted you around.”
“Really?” I whispered, surprised, emotional too.
“I am done taking you for granted, Eilidh Adair,” he whispered in my ear. “I know the woman in my arms is the most extraordinary bloody woman I will ever have the good fortune of knowing. I promise to never let a day pass without making you feel as special as you’ve made me feel all these years.”
When I closed my eyes, tears slipped free. But they were good tears. A release. Relief.
All I could smell and feel was Fyfe.
Like the miracle I’d always thought he was, he held back my intrusive thoughts so blissful sleep could claim me.