52. Wipe The Slate Clean, Baby
Wipe The Slate Clean, Baby
Bree
O uch, my head hurts.
Why does it hurt so much?
And my throat is so dry.
God, I need water.
It’s bright. I have to force my eyes to open, as they don’t want to let in the light.
‘Bree, sweetheart.’
Mama? My brows furrow in confusion as I try to blink my eyes open. Why won’t they open?
‘Honey, I’m here.’
‘It’s too bright.’
Grandma?
‘Dim the lights.’
Oh, that is better.
‘Ma…’ My lips are dry. They feel stuck, but I feel my mom’s hand holding mine. I know it’s her by the way she’s holding it, one underneath, one on top, like she always has when I’ve been sick, or sad, or just needed her for comfort. ‘Mama…’
‘Yes, honey, my god.’ She squeezes my hand, and finally, I manage to open my eyes, flinching as the light in the room floods in. ‘Oh, sweetheart.’
Mama stands, and I see the tears in her eyes as she looks down at me. I’m in the hospital. The realization hits me a moment before the memories.
Nolan.
The cottage.
The guns.
‘Oh god.’ I breathe rapidly as panic wakes me up fully. ‘Arlo.’
‘I’m here, pix, I’m here.’ I’m aware of Zoe stepping aside as Arlo rushes forward and takes my hand.
‘You’re okay.’ I say, my voice scratchy and broken as I feel the tears escape my eyes and squeeze them closed.
‘Here, pix, have some water.’ The bed raises the top half of my body slightly and Arlo holds a straw to my lips. I drink, feeling my throat soothed by the ice-cold water before I release the straw and lift my gaze to his.
‘You’re okay,’ I repeat, and he nods, yes. ‘You saved me. You found me.’
‘I will always find you, Bree.’
He lowers down to kiss me, neither of us giving a damn that we’re surrounded by my family, but I feel them backing away, and he pulls back.
‘I’m not dead.’ I say, weakly and he laughs. I notice the tears stuck to his lashes—my big mountain of a man is crying.
‘Nah, short stuff, you’re not dead.’
Then he kisses me again, and I melt into him. Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s just this man, but I feel like I’m floating, and with him holding me, I never want to come down.
N olan is dead. He shot me. I killed him. It’s a lot to take in, but that’s the gist of it.
Arlo is sitting in the chair next to my hospital bed, holding my hand. We’re alone—finally. My family were all sent home, but my husband was allowed to stay. I don’t want to admit how much I liked the sound of him being called that, and I can’t wait for the chance to make it true.
He’s been answering my questions. My mom didn’t want me to be overwhelmed by the details, but Arlo refused to keep anything from me. If I ask, he answers.
‘The other men there?’
‘Also taken care of,’ Arlo assures firmly.
‘They were from the club.’ He nods, yes. Hurt hits me deep in my chest, and he hangs his head.
‘My dad didn’t know, Bree. The VP took the job without his say and took some of the men with him. They’re all gone.’
There’s something behind his eyes, some hesitation in his words.
‘What aren’t you telling me?’
Arlo leans in, wrapping my hand in both of his, bringing it up to his mouth, and pressing a kiss against my knuckles.
‘I’m never going to be able to keep anything from you, am I?’
‘You want to keep stuff from me?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nothing important, but you know, surprises.’ He smiles softly, but it’s still there—that look.
‘Tell me,’ I encourage, and he nods.
‘Horse.’
The vice president. I remember him. He was the one who stopped me from seeing Arlo in court and in prison. He’s the one who delivered the news to me that Arlo didn’t want to see or speak to me. I will never forget that stupid nickname or the face of the man who delivered the blow that broke my heart.
‘It was him, pix. He called the cops that day. He got me arrested to get me out of the way and convinced me it was you.’
I suck in a breath at his words. All this time, I knew. I knew someone inside the club had fucked Arlo over, but I had nobody to talk to about my suspicions when he wouldn’t see me.
‘He’s—’ he presses his lips together like he doesn’t want to tell me what’s on his mind. ‘He’s still alive. Dad has him at the club, waiting for me.’
His words sink in, and I take a minute to process them. The man who stole my life with Arlo, had him locked up, kept us apart for so long, and helped Nolan kidnap me is being kept on ice until Arlo is ready to kill him.
Is he asking my permission? Or is he worried that I’ll react badly?
‘Why haven’t you gone?’
I see that my question surprises him, and he leans back in his chair.
‘Bree, he won’t be the first man I’ve put down,' he admits and I swallow at the confirmation of suspicions I never voiced. 'But I can’t make it quick with him. I can’t simply put a bullet in him. I won’t give him that mercy, and I don’t want you to feel differently about me after that.’ He takes a breath. ‘I want to make him regret ever being born. I want to be the man to send him back to the hell he came from, but the way you look at me means more to me than my need for vengeance.’
‘Baby, come here.’ With another deep breath, Arlo moves to stand, and I try to move on the bed to make room for him, wincing at the pain in my abdomen, and he stops me.
‘Jesus, Bree, stop. Even if you were able to move, this bed won’t take both of us.’
I smile up at him and lift his hand to my lips now, kissing his knuckles the way he had kissed mine.
‘Do you look at me differently after seeing me empty a magazine into Nolan?’ He shakes his head and smiles just a little. ‘I killed a man right in front of you. I could have stopped after the first shot the way it tore through him, but I didn’t. I wanted to shred him. I didn’t want there to be anything left.’ Fuck, I remember it. I remember the violent hatred I felt at that moment. ‘Does that change how you look at me, Arlo? Does it change how you love me?’
‘No, pix, it doesn’t.’ He drops his head. ‘But you’re a cop. The law is in you. You swore to uphold it, and I’ve tried my hardest since I got out to walk on the right side of that line.’
‘My job is something I need to think about, Arlo, but this, putting him down—that’s not something I want you to worry about.’ I reach up and cup his cheek with my hand. ‘Wipe the slate clean, baby. Do what you need to do to wipe the slate. You and I have a life together to start living, and if you don’t do this, I’m afraid it’ll eat at you.’
Pulling back, Arlo gazes at me with what looks like surprise in his eyes.
‘It won’t be quick, Bree. I might need some time.’
‘Take all the time you need, then come back when you’re ready to start this life with me.’
Leaning in, Arlo presses his mouth to mine, parting my lips with his and rolling his tongue across mine. The kiss is deep, full of love, and way too passionate for a hospital room, but I don’t care. I’m alive, and the love of my life is right here, holding my hand.