Chapter 43 – One Month Later
ADRIEL
ONE MONTH LATER
Kissing across her forehead, I tuck her into my bed. Well, technically, our bed since she’s moved in with me now.
Never thought I’d enjoy sharing my space with another person. The thought of it would have been laughable back then.
But now? I don’t know what I’d do if she ever left me.
Watching her smile sets my whole heart on fire. It’s funny how much I can’t live without those smiles now that I have them. Now that I’ve felt them. She’s changed so much of who I was, even while those parts of me still remain and always will.
But with Kayla, I’ve evolved into a man I never saw myself becoming. To touch, to kiss, to make love to her… I never dreamed of such things. I was simply a man looking in, never experiencing the things others always took for granted.
Now all I want is to hold her, to kiss her, to watch her smile that way she does for as long as my heart still beats.
But there’s still so much I’m simply not capable of. No matter how badly I try to force it, I can’t say those words… The three words I so desperately want to say. Because I feel them. I think I do, at least.
But how do I truly know? How do I make myself say those words? I don't know what it means to be loved or to love. I’ve never had that before.
Staring at her, knowing she’s safe from Prince and his thugs, makes me sleep better at night.
After he was killed, Iseult was able to hack his phone and computers, tying his friend Tim to the trafficking.
The same guy who danced with Kayla that night I watched her as Chris, wanting to rip the bastard to shreds.
Now he is, though. Burned in my furnace, but not before he talked and told us where to find the rest of the crew who worked for Prince. They were all over Boston, and the Quinns were able to take care of every last one of them until not one remained.
All the victims who were still in Boston, caged and waiting to be shipped off overseas, were saved too. And the others, the ones already smuggled? We were too late. None of us were able to find them. And it fucking kills me.
“Have a good nap, baby.” I stroke her lips with my knuckles, and she reaches her hand to grab my wrist.
“You sure you can’t join me?”
“Soon. I promise.” I pull her hand to my mouth and kiss the tips of her fingers. “I have a little work to do.”
Not that kind of work. The blood, it had to stop for now. She’s still recovering, but doing so well.
And the fact that she can’t have kids? Yeah, it still hurts her, but she’s managing the best she can. Elsie and Jade help a lot, and she’s wanting to find a new therapist once she’s a little more healed. As for me, therapy isn’t something I’m seeking. Kayla is all I need.
“A?” Her smile is liquid gold. Priceless.
“Yes, baby?” I want to crawl into bed with her and never leave.
Her smile expands. “I love you.”
My sharp intake of breath causes her eyes to widen.
My pulse quickens.
I don’t know what the hell to do or say, awestruck at those words. She may not realize it, but that was the very first time anyone has ever said that to me. And something inside me grows until it suffocates me.
“Are you okay?” Her brows knit and concern fits her face.
She just told me she loves me, and I look like I’m about to die. It makes me feel like the biggest asshole in the world.
Unsure what else to do, I slip into bed with her and tuck her head on my chest. “More than okay.” I drop a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I wish I wasn’t.”
“Hey.” She places a hand against my cheek. “Don’t do that.” Forcing herself on her elbow, she kisses me once. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m not, Kayla. Nothing about me has ever been perfect.”
When she tries to say something else, I place a finger across her lips to silence her.
“Let me get this out.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“I’ve never had anyone say that to me before. Not until you.”
When she looks sad, it breaks me, but I continue, knowing she deserves to hear this.
“I don't know what love is. I've never been shown love. I don't know what it looks like or feels like.” I talk past the thickness stitching up my throat. “All I know is when I'm near you, I forget how to breathe. So tell me, little wolf, is that what love feels like?”
Her bottom lip quivers, and she curls her arms against me. “Yes, Adriel, that’s exactly what it feels like.”
With a deep exhale, I hold her closer, filled with this sense of completeness I can’t explain.
“I love you,” she says, staring up, tears storming into her eyes. “I love you so much, Adriel. And I don’t care if you never say it back. Because I feel it, your love for me, and that alone is enough.”
“Kayla…” I slant my forehead to hers, clasping her nape in my large hand. “Fuck, baby, you deserve to hear it.”
“I do hear it. Every time you touch me. Every time you do something that makes my heart beat faster. I hear it. I know you love me, and that is always going to be enough.”
I slap my eyes closed and quell this aching in my chest, because I don’t feel like I’m enough.
Holding her for a while, I stare up at the ceiling while her eyes start to flutter. And I vow to try, to be a better person and a better man, every single day until I can be enough for her.
She moans as she sinks into me, and once she’s completely asleep, I kiss her forehead and gently lower her onto the pillow.
Turning off the lights, I close the door and return to the den.
I have products I need to test in the basement. As I start to head in that direction, there’s a knock on the door.
Unsure who it could be, I reach inside my pocket and check the security cams. My chest expands at the sight of two people I haven’t seen since the day Kayla was in the hospital.
Fernanda and Patrick are standing there, hushed tones between them. I can’t say I have spoken to anyone from my family since Kayla was released.
Family.
I chuckle to myself. What a funny concept. Can’t say that defines them.
Kayla’s parents have stopped by to check on her, and so have her friends. My mother and brothers have called to check on her too, but I’ve never talked to them about anything that mattered. Never had any desire to.
Whatever rivalry I had with them has died, and in its place is indifference. Except Sophia, because I adore that kid. Though I don’t see her either. Wonder if she asks about me.
Straightening my spine, I move toward the door and open it, startling my mother.
“Hi there, son.” Patrick catches himself and clears his throat. “I mean Adriel.” His thick Irish accent is on full display.
“What can I do for you both?”
Neither of them misses my sharp tone.
“Well…” My mother smiles tightly. “We were hoping to maybe speak with you. We’ve wanted to come for a while, but we didn’t want to intrude on Kayla’s recovery. But I couldn’t wait anymore.”
I stare up at the ceiling for a moment before hitting her with a glare. “I’m not here to make you feel better about what you did. So, whatever you have to say to me, tell your shrink or your priest. Not interested.”
I attempt to shut the door in their faces, but Patrick’s hand whips out and holds it in place. His face hardens as I hold his stare, both of us hard-pressed and unrelenting.
“Now, you listen,” he says. “I know you have been through a lot, and I’m willing to let some of your aggression pass toward me, but not your mother.”
I laugh dryly. “She’ll get respect when she earns it.”
When he tries to say something else, she stops him, grabbing his arm. “It’s okay.”
Patrick grinds his jaw. My mouth curves, finding his anger commendable.
“She left me,” I tell him. “I have every fucking reason to hate her. She told me you didn’t know. Is that right?”
He nods. “I may not have, but I’m not innocent in this.
We aren’t trying to deny our fault in what happened to you, but all I want is a few moments of your time.
We both do. And if you don’t want anything to do with us or this family after that, then that’s fine.
We will hate it, but we’ll accept it. Right, Fernanda? ”
He glances at her, and even as her face falls, she nods, tears coating the rims of her lower lashes.
Blowing a breath, I say, “Fine, but let’s go into my office so we don’t wake Kayla.”
“Aye.” Patrick curls an arm around my mother as they follow me inside, and I lock the door once they enter.
I don’t know what any of us will get out of this, but I can tell they won’t leave us alone until they get to talk.
My mother appears near distraught as we walk into my office. She doesn’t deserve my time nor my sympathy, but at least she has one of them.
“You have five minutes,” I tell her. “Please…”
Gesturing toward the black leather sofa, I take my seat across from them at my desk. She lowers first before Patrick sinks beside her, taking her hand in his. My eyes catch it before my gaze darts up.
Popping a brow, I cross my arms over my chest. “So, what do you need to tell me, Mother?”
Patrick grunts under his breath at my tone. Too fucking bad. He can leave. Or better yet, they can both fuck right off.
“That’s okay, Pat.” She nods at him with a quick glance.
“I deserve that. He has every right.” Her eyes go to mine.
“You have every right to hate me. But I can’t live with myself if I don’t at least tell you the whole truth, my mistakes and all.
And believe me…” She huffs. “I have a laundry list of them.”
“No kidding.” I grin.
She ignores my mockery and starts weaving her tale.
“When I was in high school, I met your father, and we became inseparable.”
She peers back at him, and I can see it there in her eyes, the love they share.
“We wanted to be together, but you see, our families—especially mine—were not fond of us as a couple. They were traditional, so they wanted me to marry an Italian man. When I was seventeen, about a year after Pat and I started dating, my mother found out, and she planned an arranged marriage behind my back. Promised me to a man a bit older. Once I was eighteen, I was to marry him.” She bites her bottom lip.