Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
SHEA
I should be feeling relieved right now.
Those awful men are in jail, awaiting trial, and Oliver is certain they’ll be convicted. So they won’t be a threat to us again.
Oliver is safe, relatively unhurt, aside from a small bruise and cut on his face.
I escaped from the experience with some minor bruising on my wrists, although if you were to ask Oliver, it’s a critical injury. Even though Cole checked me over and said I was absolutely fine, Oliver kept pushing for me to go to the hospital, as he argued, just to be sure .
“There could be something more serious,” he kept insisting all the way back to Sleepy Hollow. “A head injury. Something internal. Why take chances if we don’t have to?”
Finally, I climbed onto his lap and told him quietly, “I’m fine, Oll. The only thing I need is to feel your arms around me. Just us. Please?”
So he caved. But I think that was in part because we decided to come back to Blade and Arrow, and Cole happens to be their team’s medic. So if there is some fluke wrist emergency, Cole will be on hand to treat it.
“There’s a lot to discuss,” Cole explained in the car, “so I think just for tonight, since you already have your stuff here, it would be better to stay at B and A. Plus, I know Maya would really love to see you for herself.”
Would I prefer to be back at Oliver’s house, cuddling on the new couch we picked out together, surrounded by all the photos and decorations he put up just for me?
Yes. Of course.
But I can see the sense in staying here for the day. Maya was really worried, which I completely understand. And given the amount of time Oliver had to spend in meetings—with the Blade and Arrow team, the police department, and one of his former colleagues from the CIA—I wouldn’t have been too crazy about sitting at his place by myself.
Here, even when Oliver wasn’t available, I always had company. First, Maya and Georgia, then Nora, and later in the afternoon, Ari and Thea. So that was actually pretty nice.
What wasn’t nice? Having to tell Niall what happened. Thank goodness for Jade, or I think he would be on the next flight here, intent on dragging me to Texas whether I like it or not. But my best friend talked him down, and now he’s settled on a more reasonable promise, which is that he’s coming here to visit next week.
He did sound pretty impressed when I explained how Oliver took down all four tangos—that’s what Niall calls them—single handedly, and that I walked away unscathed.
And I did. Mostly. Some bruises don’t count.
“I have to say,” Niall said once he stopped muttering curses and breathing hard over the phone, “I always liked Oliver. And if he can protect you like that, I’m okay with you being together again.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that Oliver saved my life. What he did… it was beyond brave. Beyond incredible. Fighting back against four armed men? While unarmed, except for a blade the length of my pinkie? And handling that terrifying standoff on the road without letting either of us get hurt? I’m in awe of him, really.
But I don’t think Oliver agrees.
And that’s why I have this icky feeling in my stomach. It’s why I can’t enjoy being safe, spending the evening with Oliver, making love until we forget the awful events from earlier today.
He’s too quiet. Almost remote. And when he thinks I’m not paying attention, his face pinches like he’s in pain.
It’s not that he’s being unpleasant to me; far from it. He’s done everything, checking my wrists approximately a hundred times, bringing me plates full of food and snacks, calling my work to smooth things over, and even taking me into the shower and insisting on washing me even though I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.
But something’s wrong.
I get that he’s upset about all of it, just like I am. I have a feeling those awful men will be featuring in my nightmares for a while, and I’m not sure I’ll feel safe driving on that road for a very long time.
It’s more than that, though, and I have a sinking feeling I know what it is. That’s why I need to force Oliver to talk about it before he does something crazy like insisting we break up under the auspices of protecting me.
That never made sense when I’d see it happen in the movies. The guy makes some proclamation about how the only way to keep the woman safe is to leave her. How does that help? Now she’s alone, probably depressed and distracted, and more vulnerable than if he’d just stayed with her to begin with.
Well, that’s not happening with Oliver and me.
And I’m not letting it go past today. We’re going to talk this out, and this time, I’m going to support him, just like he’s done so many times for me.
He’s been fussing in the laundry room for the last fifteen minutes, which I know is more than enough time to throw in a load of clothes. I have a feeling he’s staring out the window instead, with the same gloomy look I’ve spotted at least half a dozen times since we got back here.
So I send Jade a final text telling her I’ll call tomorrow before putting my phone down on the coffee table. Then I push up off the couch and head down the hallway in search of Oliver.
Just like I suspected, he’s standing in front of the window with his back to me, his shoulders slumped and hands shoved into his pockets. Before I say anything, I just look at him, my heart aching to see him looking so forlorn. This isn’t typical Oliver, confident, shoulders held high, and a smile always a second away from appearing.
Did he look like this after I broke up with him?
The thought of it brings a physical pain, like something stabbing into my chest. Without thinking, I clap my hand to my heart—not like that’s about to do anything—and a tiny whimper of dismay escapes.
Oliver whips around, concern all over his face. “Shea. What’s wrong?” He scans me quickly, then steps forward to take my hands in his. “Are you in pain? Is it your wrists? Something else? Should I call Cole?”
Just as he’s lifting my hands to inspect my wrists, I stop him. “No. I’m fine.”
His forehead creases. “But you made a sound?—”
“I know.” Tugging him out of the laundry room, I lead him back into the living room. “But I’m not in pain. Not like that.”
“Shea. I don’t understand. If you’re hurting…”
“Come sit down.” I practically push him onto the couch and climb onto his lap, turning so I’m sitting across it.
His hand raises to brush my hair from my face. “Love. You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“I made a sound because I was sad,” I explain. “Seeing you like that. I don’t like it.”
“Seeing me like what?”
“Sad. Quiet. In your head.” Pausing, I lean over to kiss his cheek. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell. So I want to talk about it.”
“I’m fine,” he replies quickly. A muscle in his jaw twitches.
“No, you’re not. I’ve known you long enough to tell.”
“Shea…”
Holding his gaze, I take a deep breath before I say, “I’m scared, Oll. And we need to talk about it.”
“Shit.” Guilt sweeps across his face. “I’m so sorry. Here I am messing around doing laundry when I should be with you. After all those meetings… I should have pushed them off. Of course you’re scared. What can I do?”
“Not about that.” Catching his hand, I thread my fingers between his. “Yes, what happened earlier was scary. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what?”
Crap. Is this going to come out sounding crazy? “I don’t want you to break up with me,” I blurt out.
Oliver’s legs go rigid beneath me. “What are you talking about, Shea? Why would I break up with you?” On a sharp inhale, he asks quietly, “Are you breaking up with me? Because of what happened?”
“No—”
“I wouldn’t blame you,” he continues, his mouth dragging down. “After everything I put you through… It’s probably safer if you’re not with me. If you?—”
“No.” It’s almost a shout. I take a deep breath and blow it out. “No,” I repeat more softly. “That is not what I want. And that’s what I’m afraid of. That you’ll decide to leave me because you think it’s the only way to keep me safe, like those stubborn jerks do in the movies.”
“What?” Confusion etches tiny lines between his eyes. “Like the jerks in the movies?”
“Not that you’re a jerk,” I amend. “But those guys are. Leaving their girlfriends and wives because of some misplaced idea that it’ll keep them safe. But it doesn’t. In the movies, the woman always ends up in danger, anyway, but then the guy isn’t even there to protect her.”
Oliver stares at me for a few seconds. “So you think I’m going to leave you?”
“Not exactly. But… maybe? If you got it in your head that I’m still in danger for some reason.”
“You could still be in danger,” he retorts. “Everything that happened was because of my old job. While I hope it doesn’t, I could be targeted again. You could be targeted again.” Sighing, his expression is pained as he adds, “The guy who started all this?—”
“Romanova.”
“Yes. He’s still out there. He could send someone else after me. After you. I already feel so guilty…”
“Oliver Kingston.” I firm my voice. Turning so I’m straddling him, I frame his face with my hands. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Lots of people have dangerous jobs. And they still have wives. Husbands. Families. They figure out a way to make it work.”
“But you were hurt, Shea. More than once.”
“I don’t care.” A lump lodges in my throat. “I love you, Oll. With all my heart. I already went through losing you before. I can’t do it again.”
“What if the stress makes you sick again, Shea?” Worry darkens his gaze. “I know what my job did to you before. Going forward, we’ll have to increase security. At least until Romanova is stopped, if not after that. It’s a lot. I don’t want you to lose all the progress you’ve made.”
“I won’t. Because back then, I didn’t handle my illness the right way. I tried to hide it. Now I know better. If things are stressing me out, I can go to my counselor. I can talk to you. Or Jade. Or Niall, if I don’t mind giving him a minor heart attack.”
Brushing my lips across his, I add, “We can do this together. I don’t care about extra security. So what if we live in a fortress? That’s fine. Then we’re barricaded together. Honestly, that sounds pretty great. Tons of privacy, time for naked mini golf…”
One corner of Oliver’s lips lifts. “You really liked the naked mini golf, didn’t you?”
“Obviously.” I make a little duh face at him. “You, naked, bending over to take all those shots…”
“Ah.” The smile gets bigger. “So that’s why you stood behind me all the time.”
My cheeks warm. “Busted. But don’t think I didn’t notice you eyeballing my breasts whenever I swung the club.”
The tips of his ears go pink. “Can you blame me? Your breasts are gorgeous. Just like the rest of you.”
Aww.
“Oliver.” His eyes meet mine, dark like twilight flecked with stars. “I love you. I love you. Whatever we have to do to be together, I’ll do it. And please, don’t feel guilty. It’s not your fault what happened. It’s that sleazy guy Romanova. He’s the guilty one.”
He sighs. “What you’re saying makes sense. I know it does. But I still can’t stop feeling guilty for dragging you into this.”
“Don’t you think I feel guilty for hurting you?” I ask quietly. “But if I want to be with you, I need to figure out a way past it.”
“Ah, Shea. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about?—”
I cough. Loudly. Obviously.
“Well.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “Point taken.”
“So. I have an idea. Well, more than one idea, really.”
Oliver’s body relaxes as some of the tension drains out of it. “Okay?”
“First. You join me for a couple of my counseling sessions. Partly to talk about what happened today, but also to work through our guilt. Both of ours. How does that sound?”
“If that’s what you want to do, I’m happy to.”
“Good.” I give him a kiss for emphasis. “Next, we’re going home. To your place. As soon as possible.”
“What about your house?”
“No. Not now.” Or maybe never. Because I’ve found I love living with Oliver, and Sleepy Hollow has really grown on me. But maybe I’ll save that for another conversation. “If you want more security, it makes sense for us to be together, and closer to your work and B and A. Unless you… unless you don’t want me there?”
“Of course I do.” Oliver hugs me, kissing me on the forehead. “I absolutely want you to stay with me.” A beat, and then, “It feels like our house, if I’m being honest.”
Oh.
“It feels like that for me, too.”
“So… is that it?” Cautious optimism chases the darkness from his eyes. “Counseling? And going home as soon as possible?”
“One more thing.”
“Okay?”
“If you’re upset, or feeling guilty, or worried, I want you to talk to me. Don’t worry about stressing me out. What you told me about wanting to know? It’s the same for me. We’re a team, and that means we hold each other up when things are hard. Sometimes I’ll be the one who needs support, and sometimes you will. I want to be that person for you. Your support. Your partner. And one day… Well. I’m in this. With you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
There’s a long pause as Oliver just looks at me, emotion working in his gaze. “Good.” His lips cover mine for a second before he adds, “I’m not going anywhere, either.”
Then he pauses. Takes a deep breath. “I know now isn’t the time, Shea. Not today. But I promise you. One day in the not too distant future, I will ask you to be my wife.”
“Oll.”
“Is that okay?”
“Yes.” My heart swells. “It’s absolutely okay. And when you ask, the answer will be yes.”