Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ROSE
The memories come at the most unexpected times.
Like when I was in the closet trying to pick out some clothes and I remembered Reed walking into Ian’s office. For a second, I was almost certain Reed was going to be there, smiling that same creepy smile and saying, “Don’t you recognize me, Rose?”
Or when I dropped a knife in the sink and the silvery flash of it made me flashback to the gun and how it glinted in the moonlight.
When I’m alone for more than a few minutes, my breath catches, suddenly seized by a certainty that Reed isn’t in jail, that he’s out, he’s on his way here, he’s in the house …
I’m trying to hide the moments of panic because Ian already feels guilty enough as is. Which he shouldn’t, obviously .
He hasn’t said it to me, but I heard him talking quietly to Cash in the kitchen yesterday. Self-recrimination lacing his voice, he confessed, “I shouldn’t have left Rose alone. And Reed. He was in my gym . He applied for a membership. I let him get close to her.”
But it’s not his fault. First off, I never mentioned Reed as a suspect. It never occurred to me. So that’s on me, not Ian. And we discovered Reed joined the gym using an ID he’d stolen from a student, so even if we’d been on the lookout for his name, it wouldn’t have mattered.
When Oliver told us that yesterday, Ian’s face got all funny, and he gritted out, “We’re adding more security to the gym from now on. Multiple forms of ID to join. Background checks. More cameras. More lighting outside.”
I’m hoping in time, Ian won’t take all the blame on himself.
Or the Blade and Arrow guys—when Zane stopped over, he told me unhappily, “I’m sorry, Rose. We looked into your coworkers, but there wasn’t anything about Reed that raised a red flag. We should have looked deeper.”
Well. There was nothing about Reed that raised a red flag to me, and I knew him.
Two days later, it’s still hard to wrap my head around. Reed, the mild-mannered art history professor, obsessed with me. Orchestrating an elaborate plot to win me over. And finally coming up with a plan to abduct me and take me to his family’s hunting cabin upstate so he could be with me.
Yes. That came out when the police interrogated Reed—his plan to trap me at his cabin until I ‘understood we were meant to be together’. It’s crazy.
And that he broke my hand? I think that might be the hardest part to accept. He knew how much painting meant to me, and he took it away from me.
When I think about that part, my chest gets tight and the feeling of betrayal is almost overwhelming. The hurt and disbelief and anger and sorrow expand inside me, this terrible pressure building. And when it finally bursts… I sobbed in Ian’s arms yesterday morning as the reality finally set in.
So that part is terrible. What isn’t? Ian.
He’s been absolutely wonderful. Not that he wasn’t already, but he’s gone above and beyond trying to help me feel better.
Bringing me fresh ice-packs for my cheek on a regular schedule because he researched the best method to reduce swelling. Setting me up on the couch with everything I could possibly need to be comfortable—my favorite blanket, the fluffiest pillows, trays of snacks, a brand new Kindle loaded with books that Thea helped him set up—and cuddling with me for hours. Ordering my favorite muffins and chicken parm and cannolis and a stack of delivery menus so I can get anything I want.
He’s tenderly cleaned the cut on my cheek, his brows in an unhappy V, brushing featherlight kisses to the skin around it.
And when I had nightmares, waking up crying, Ian held me and stroked my hair and murmured soft reassurances until I fell back to sleep.
Even Baxter has been extra sweet to me—following me everywhere, curling up next to me, resting his furry head on my leg and watching me with a solemn stare.
And my friends… Everyone has been so kind. So concerned. And it doesn’t feel weird like it did when I was in the hospital the first time. It feels good.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Ian comes into the living room and heads over to me. As he settles on the couch beside me, his gaze sweeps across my face, checking to see if I’m in pain or upset. His brows dip in a little V of worry. “Are you in pain? Do you need some ibuprofen? Or the ice pack again?”
“I’m okay.” I scoot onto his lap and wrap my arms around him. “It’s just a little sore. No need for anything.”
“Okay…” His thumb brushes down my cheek, and that now-familiar guilt flickers in his eyes for a second. “If it gets worse, tell me.”
“It won’t.” With a little smile, I say, “It’s a bruise. It’ll get better. I promise.”
“Ah, Rose.” He swallows hard. I can tell he wants to keep pressing the subject, but he stops himself. “Okay.” After a brief pause, his expression smooths out, and he smiles back at me. “How soon until Drake and Alaska get here?”
“Soon.” Just as he mentions it, my phone buzzes. “I bet that’s them.” Ian grabs my phone and hands it to me, and I glance at the message on the screen. “According to Alaska, the GPS says they’re only three minutes away.”
“Three minutes?” His arms tense. “I thought I had a little longer.”
“Stop. You don’t have to worry about anything. Drake and Alaska are great.”
“I’m sure they are, hun.” He looks down at me very seriously. “I have no doubt about that. But Drake is like a brother to you. And he’s very protective. I’m not sure how happy he’s going to be with me considering…”
“Considering what? That you stopped Reed? That you broke his nose, which I’m pretty happy about, honestly. That you protected me again?”
With a heavy sigh, Ian says, “I’m not sure he’ll see it that way, Rose. I promised I’d take care of you?—”
“And you did,” I reply firmly. “You are.” I cup his nape and stretch up to kiss him. At first it’s soft, almost chaste, like the careful kisses he’s given me the last two days. But then I trace the seam of his lips, licking and nipping and sucking, and I make that little sound I know he likes…
With a low growl, Ian cradles the back of my head and takes the kiss deeper. Plunging inside, tasting me, stroking his tongue against mine. He shifts me on his lap, and I can feel his arousal pressing at me. I turn so my sensitive nipples brush against his firm chest, drawing them into taut peaks.
I want this . In the shocking aftermath of everything, we’ve cuddled and hugged and Ian has given me dozens of tender kisses. But we haven’t done this, and I’m struck with a need verging on desperation to feel Ian inside me. To make love.
Except. Maybe not now.
Because the security alert is going off on my phone, beeping urgently from the cushion where I dropped it, announcing that Drake and Alaska are here.
“Oh, crap.” I jerk away and glance down at my nipples poking through my bra and T-shirt. “I can’t answer the door like this!”
Ian pulls away, flushed, his eyes dark with desire. He glances at my nipples and chuckles. “You might want to put on a sweatshirt before we answer the door.”
As I lever myself off him, I give a pointed look at the bulge in his shorts. “And what are you going to do about that ?”
“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Ian stands and adjusts himself with a wry smile. “Guys learn how to hide it.”
Maybe so, but not so much for my nipples. I end up throwing one of Ian’s sweatshirts—his old Ithaca one that I’ve pretty much stolen—and wondering if Drake or Alaska will wonder why I’m wearing it when it’s still summer.
I think Alaska suspects something, because she scans my face, my lips, then my sweatshirt, and a small smirk appears. She leans in to hug me and whispers into my ear, “You could have told us to stop at the grocery store. That would have bought you at least twenty minutes.”
I hug her back, my cheeks going hot, and mutter, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Fortunately, Drake is too busy eyeballing Ian to notice my flushed face or undoubtedly kiss-swollen lips.
Or he was, until I pull away from Alaska. Then his gaze jumps to me, going laser focused on my cheek. Frowning, he says unhappily, “Ro. You didn’t say he hurt you this badly.”
“It’s fine,” I assure him brightly. “Just a bruise. No permanent damage.”
“A bad bruise,” Ian adds unhelpfully. “I keep trying to get Rose to use the ice pack, but she puts it down whenever I’m not paying attention?—”
“I am. But it’s cold.” Traitor. The second he gets a chance to curry favor with Drake…
On the other hand. I want the two most important men in my life to get along. So if that means I get thrown under the bus, that’s okay.
Darting forward, I throw my arms around Drake and hug him hard. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me gently. “Ro,” he says softly. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”
I sniff back the tears that suddenly sneak up on me, and reply. “Me too. Now. We have iced tea, or beer, and cookies from the best bakery in town. Why don’t we take a tour of the house, and then we can talk, and later we can go out for dinner, and?—”
Baxter inserts himself into the mix, bumping his head against Drake’s leg.
“And meeting Baxter,” Ian adds with a grin.
Alaska awws . “Oh, he’s so sweet. And his face reminds me of Mutt’s.” She glances at Ian and explains, “I know, it’s kind of a weird name. But he’s a great dog.”
Ian smiles at her. “I bet he is. Hopefully Rose and I can come visit you guys soon and meet him.”
“That would be great,” she enthuses. “Now, this house is so cute. And I love that all your paintings are up, Rose. Can we take a tour?”
“Of course.” Ian catches my good hand, enveloping it with his. “We can start upstairs. It’s still a work in progress, but with Rose’s help decorating…”
The tour takes longer than I expected, with Alaska ooh- ing over all the same things I love—the window that now has a reading bench, the shower Ian added rain shower heads to so we could shower together more easily, the brick fireplace with my painting above it—and Drake asking all sorts of questions about what Ian fixed up and nodding appreciatively.
At one point, while Ian and Drake are in deep discussion over the attic and whether it makes sense to finish it, Alaska pulls me to the side and whispers, “Rose. He’s so handsome! I saw the pictures you sent, but in person? And he’s so sweet.”
“I know.” I can't help beaming. “He is. And you should see him teaching his martial arts classes.”
After almost an hour, we finally make ourselves comfortable in the living room. We give Alaska and Drake the couch, while I squeeze into the loveseat with Ian. Because of course, we moved it over here. How could we not?
“Okay, Ro.” Drake levels his gaze at me. “Now tell me. How are you really feeling?”
Ian’s arm comes around me, hugging me to his side.
Blowing out a breath, I tell Drake the truth. “It’s hard. The memories, but also the betrayal. I wasn’t close to Reed, but I knew him. I thought… we were friends. And what he did… my hand…”
Alaska grimaces. “I’m so sorry, Rose. If you ever want to talk?—”
Drake’s expression goes stony. “And the charges against him?” This is more to Ian than me. “What are they charging him with?”
“Kidnapping.” Ian’s jaw clenches. “First-degree assault. Stalking. Criminal conspiracy.” He blows out a long breath. “After the police searched his house, they found evidence that Reed was planning on abducting Rose. That he paid someone to hurt her. And the guy I caught outside Rose’s apartment positively ID’d Reed as the man who hired him.”
“Shit.” Drake looks as pissed off as Ian. “At least that should keep him in prison for a while.” A beat, and then, “What about that other woman? The artist who went after Ro?”
“Reed set her up,” I answer. “For the attack outside my apartment, at least. The police think he did it to try to wrap up the case. So I’d let my guard down and it would be easier to—” My breath catches as the memory of Reed sneaks up on me again, and I can’t hide my shudder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Ian soothes, rubbing my arm gently. “You’re okay.”
“Sorry, Ro.” Drake’s voice dips in apology. “I should have thought. We don’t need to talk about this right now.”
“It’s alright.” Of course he wants to know. And I hadn’t told Drake much before now, just that I was nearly abducted and the guy behind everything was in jail, which then spurred this last-minute trip to visit me.
“Still. We came to spend time with you. Not upset you.” Drake exchanges a quick glance with Ian, which I’m interpreting to mean he’s going to ask Ian for more information when I’m not in the room.
“I’m just glad you’re here,” I reassure him. “I understand you have questions. I would, too.”
Drake smiles. “I am too. Just one more thing, and then I’m done with the interrogation. Then we can have these delicious-looking cookies and we can decide where to go for dinner.”
I nod at him. “Okay?”
“You have your surgery coming up next week, right?”
“Yes.” That’s one unexpected silver lining of nearly being abducted. I haven’t had time to stress about my hand. “Next Tuesday.”
“Does the doctor think it has a good chance of helping?”
“He’s hopeful.” I glance at Ian, and he gives me a soft look, one that makes my anxiety about the surgery settle. “ I’m hopeful. But no matter what happens, I’m going to be okay.”
At Drake’s raised eyebrows, I explain, “Yes, it’ll be terrible if I can’t paint like I used to. But before, painting was my identity. It was everything. And now”—I meet Ian’s gaze, seeing his love right there , all for me—“I have more. A town I love. Friends. A home. I can work here. I can take photos. I can teach painting.”
Now I turn to Ian. “And I have the most incredible man I’ve ever met. Someone who loves me for who I am. A man I love more than anything. I’ve never been happier than I’ve been with you. And like you said, if we can make it through all this crap, we can make it through anything.”
Emotion tightens his features. “My sweet Rose. I love you. And no matter what happens next week, it’s going to be okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
Tears well up, but I blink them away. “I love you, Ian. So much.”
“Awww,” Alaska coos. “You guys are perfect together.”
I sneak a quick glance at Drake to see his reaction, and he’s smiling. “Okay. I like him, Ro. And I’m really happy for you.”
“You could get married in New Mexico, you know,” Alaska adds. “It’s so beautiful there.”
My face goes hot. A wedding? We haven’t talked about that. It’s still so early. And with Ian’s divorce… He might not be ready for a long time.
Although. From the speculative look on Ian’s face, maybe not.
Marrying Ian?
Warmth blossoms in my chest.
Yes. If he asked, I’d definitely say yes.