Chapter 23
[Dart]
The second she shuts down, I see it. Her eyes wide, almost panicked. Her mouth slack instead of smiling.
What we just did catches up to her.
I’m still buried inside her. The two of us are slick and breathing heavily, and yet I’ve lost her.
Trinity scrambles off me, releasing me with a soft suction. A rush of our collective releases trickles down me. She fumbles off my lap and tucks her dress between her legs.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. Pull her back to me or let her go.
When she starts up the staircase, wedging herself between me and the railing, I catch her ankle. I don’t intend to trip her, I just want her to stop.
“Trinity.”
“I . . .” She’s practically crawling up the stairs, and she glances at me over her shoulder. Her mouth is swollen from our kisses. Her neck reddened by my scruff. But her eyes . . . they kill me.
“Shower . . .” she mutters. She’s pushing me away, pulling back, doing exactly what we said we wouldn’t do.
I let her go, collapsing on the stairs for another second to catch my breath. To catch my thoughts.
I want to give her space, but space is all we’ve had. Too much time. Too much distance.
Am I too late?
I pull up my jeans and press off the stairs to slowly climb the steps.
I hear the shower running in her room.
Stay or go? Steamroll or settle?
There’s only one choice.
Her.
I stalk toward the bathroom. Because of the closed door, I knock. “Trin?”
When she doesn’t answer me, I risk her wrath and enter. She’s in the shower, back to the door, head against the wall.
Spreading my hands wide, I press my forehead to the glass. “Trin. Talk to me.”
Her shoulders shake. We’ve been in this position before. Her silent tears. My broken heart.
I should leave her alone, but that’s also what I’ve done in the past. I’d let her wallow in her emotions instead of addressing them.
Slowly, I peel off my clothes and pop open the glass door.
Trin tilts her head, glancing at me over her shoulder, bewildered, overwhelmed possibly.
Too much happened too fast. I won’t deny I loved it. Won’t pretend it didn’t happen either. I don’t regret it one bit, but this . . . the fear in her eyes, I want to dispel.
I run my hands over her shoulders and down her arms, cupping her elbows.
“Talk to me.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not certain I can even explain it myself.”
I slip my hands down her forearms and then wrap both our arms around her middle, pulling her back to my chest.
“Then we’ll just stand here. Together.”
We don’t need words. We need time. Not the distance behind us, but a slow, steady pace dragging us forward.
I’m not going anywhere.
Still, the silence kills me, and I realize maybe she does want her privacy. Maybe she needs time without me to process what happened. I don’t want to crowd her. I don’t want to control her.
I press a kiss to her shoulder. “I’ll give you space.”
Slowly untangling our arms, I slip away and turn for the shower door. I’m just pressing it forward when her arms wrap around my middle. Her cheek rests on my spine. I close my eyes.
“I’m scared,” she admits.
It’s all I need to know. I spin to her, tucking her into my chest, cupping the back of her head. “I’m scared too.”
Scared that I’m too late. Scared that I’ll lose her. Scared that I’ll lose Mirabelle.
Everything I’ve ever wanted is right in front of me, and I might be too late to grasp it.
“Can you tell me what you’re afraid of?”
“I’m afraid you’ll leave. You’ll still love me, but you’ll go.” She pulls back to look into my eyes. Hers reflect liquid pools of darkness, accented by fear and confusion
I did that to her. I put that fear there.
I took what I was most afraid of myself and turned it on her.
Being left as a child by both my parents.
Being unloved by my grandparents. Feeling abandoned most of my life and promising I’d never do that to another person.
That I’d never do it to her . . . my person.
And I did.
“Can you ever forgive me, Trin? Am I too far gone from you?” I cup the sides of her face, the warm water pelting our sides.
“I do. I have.” She swallows, lowering her eyes. “But it still hurts.” A sob escapes and she quickly covers her mouth with her hand.
Forgive but not forget. Not yet.
I tug her back to me. “No more hiding, Trin. For either of us. You’ve got to tell me these things. I’m a guy, baby. I need my hand held and my heart explained.”
She soggily chuckles, only a sliver of the tension cracked.
“I’m here, Trinity. I’m here.” I lower my voice, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Forever.”
She nods against me, but I’m not certain she firmly believes me.
“I might have been physically away from you, but I was never gone. Never without you.” She was always in my thoughts, in my heart.
Her arms tighten around my middle, and I squeeze mine harder around her shoulders.
“We just need time.”
In racing, you want the best time. The fastest speed. The lowest number on the clock.
But this . . . there’s no rush. We aren’t measuring our pace with stopwatches.
“I’m here for all of it.” Eternity and beyond, but I need to stop talking. I’m afraid I’m only messing further with her head.
Right now, we need to focus on this moment. “How are you feeling right now? About what we did?”
Does she regret it? Did she hate it? Did I hurt her?
She pulls back a little bit, releasing her arms from me. “I feel like it needed to happen.”
I softly smile, swiping at the hair clinging to the sides of her face.
“Any regrets?”
She lowers her gaze and shakes her head.
“You were pretty demanding, baby.” I hope she picks up on the tease in my voice. “I liked it.”
If her cheeks turn pink, I don’t know because of the steam in the shower, but the corner of her lip curls.
“But did I hurt you?” We were a little rough and that staircase certainly wasn’t a soft bed.
“No.” She closes her eyes, shaking her head again. “I liked it.”
My smile grows, and I swipe beneath her eyes with my thumbs. When she opens them, they are clearer but still sad.
“Let me take care of you.” I reach for the shampoo and pour a healthy dollop into my hands.
Trinity turns to face the wall. I lather up my hands and wash her hair, taking my time with the short length, massaging her scalp.
Eventually, I tip her chin to rinse the suds.
Next, I cover my hands with soap that smells like summertime and fresh meadows. Her scent. I press my fingers into her nape and my palms along her back. I rub her arms and down her legs, picking up her feet to scrub them.
And every time I touch her, she touches me in return. Her fingertips dance up my arms and along my wrists. Her fingers dig into my hair as I bend forward and lower for her legs.
“You always did take the best care of me.”
Sorrow still fills her voice. All the heartbreak of the past just beneath the surface.
“Want to take care of you again. You and Mirabelle.”
Her eyes widen. We haven’t talked about my role with Mirabelle. Whether I’ll be given one.
It’s a discussion for another day. Right now is about us. Just her and me.
I give my own body a quick rinse as the water turns colder. Then, I turn off the faucets and reach outside the shower for a towel. Wrapping it around her first, I step out and find a towel for me.
Her single towel on the hook is another reminder that I left her alone.
Tonight, and every night that follows, I don’t want her to feel alone again.
We each dry off a bit before Trinity reaches for one of those silky nightgowns she’s been wearing. They aren’t sexy as much as soft-looking, so feminine, so pretty on her.
“Trin. Can I be so bold as to ask if I can sleep with you tonight?”
I don’t want to leave her alone. I can’t control rambling thoughts or even settle them in one night, but one night is one step, and that’s what we need.
“I’d like that,” she says, reaching for a spare toothbrush in the vanity drawer.
As we stand side by side, brushing our teeth, the moment might feel mundane to another man. A nightly routine done by rote. A practice that happens out of habit. I might not have ever noted how many times Trin and I went through this process, side by side.
But I’ll never forget it again.
This is my chance to make new memories.
I won’t squander even the smallest ones.