Chapter 30
THIRTY
The moment my arms wrap around Blair, it’s like everything falls into place.
She melts into my touch, and I bury my face in the crook of her neck. Her hands are holding my forearms tightly, as if she’s scared I’m going to let go. But I won’t. I’ll never let go. I’ll always hold her close to me, and she’ll always be right where she belongs — next to me.
My emotions are running high. Her scent, the feeling of her hair all over my face, fuck, just having her back in my arms is making it difficult to think straight. My entire body is yearning for this closeness, and I’ll be damned if I ever let her leave me again.
I know we need to run from here while we have the time, yet my feet don’t move.
Neither do Blair’s and it’s clear to me just how much we both needed this.
I inhale deeply, her sweet scent, and it feels like every wound that I had, is magically healed.
She’s the medicine to every illness I might have, the cure for my sanity.
The sound of police sirens echoes in my ears, and I lift my head up, resting my chin on Blair’s shoulder.
Her eyes are glued to the scene developing in front of her, because as soon as the lights are back on, in the spot where Blair stood a minute ago is a very confused looking Amy.
The blood Blair provided from Simmons is now splattered all over Amy’s face, almost in the exact same spots as the one on Blair’s face.
After all, I had Amy pull the trigger from close range and have it drop all over her, just so all of this could be recreated.
Amy is turning around, looking left and right, with a gun in her hand. When she realizes that there are no bullets, she starts panicking. Her eyes are wide, and she’s trying to find an exit, but before she gets the chance to, Agent Arnault appears.
Blair breathes out in relief, and the words that leave her lips are a soft whisper.
“We can go home now.”
Without missing a beat, I scoop her up in my arms, holding her tightly. Her body pressed against me. She wraps her arms around my neck and buries her in my chest. Her breathing is heavy, and I don’t speak, I don’t have to.
Instead, I let her process all of this on her own.
What she just did is not only admirable, and insanely brave, but it’s also mentally exhausting.
It will take her a while to come to terms with the fact that it’s all over now, and that she can finally be happy.
The loud panic behind us fades into the background, and when I kiss the top of her head, the weight of it all rolls off my shoulders.
No words need to be spoken right now. I just enjoy her presence, enjoy the fact that after tonight, I can give her the world and everything she deserves.
Blair curls into me further, and my heart flutters.
Her eyes close softly, and I can see the exhaustion on her face.
She’s been awake for far too long, so I just let her rest in my arms while I carry her to the car.
If needed, I’d carry her all across the city until we reach the manor, and I don’t care that it would likely take me four hours.
I stop for a moment, watching the sunrise.
A soft smile tugs on the corners of my lips when I look down on her sleeping form, my arms tighten around her. The fresh air of spring hits me all at once, the soft wind blowing.
“It’s all over Butterfly,” I mutter. “You did it. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I allow myself to soak up the moment, to feel the relief flooding me on the inside, and to stand here in silence, holding my entire world in my arms. I can’t put into words the affection and respect I have for this woman.
When she needed to, she did everything on her own, and although I’m a little wounded that she didn’t need me, I’m also immensely fucking proud of her for being brave and strong enough to do this without me.
I had to use one word to describe who Blair Hawke is, it would be resilient. She’s so fucking strong, and my love for her just continues to grow with each passing moment.
I’ll marry this woman one day.
And as soon as that thought hits me, I remember one, tiny detail that makes me freeze up. Oh, Lord, when she finds out, I’ll be a dead man.
Blair stirs in my arms, her eyes peeling open.
“Sleep,” I murmur, continuing the walk to the car.
“I’m okay,” she yawns, holding me tightly. “I just want to go home.”
I chuckle. “Home we go, then.”
The drive is silent. But, it’s a comfortable kind of silence. She’s holding my hand tightly while I’m driving, her eyes locked on the passing view outside the window. She’s overwhelmed, so I won’t press her for details on what happened in that bar.
I know when she’s ready, she’ll tell me everything in detail.
“You know,” she speaks, voice low. “I made him eat his own dick.”
I choke on my saliva, glancing at her sideways. “You… what?”
“Mhm,” she nods. “Not the entire thing, just the tip. I didn’t know how much I could cut without him dying from blood loss, so I just sliced the tip off and forced him to eat it.”
I blow out a deep breath. “Well… did it bring you satisfaction?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Then you should’ve fed him more of it,” I shrug. “I’m always going to support you, right or wrong.”
Blair laughs, and my heart stutters a bit. “Thank you, Baby.”
That damned nickname again. A coat of blush rises to my cheeks, and I have to clear my throat, to force myself to think of literally anything else so the reddish shade doesn’t spread.
Blair smirks, slyly, and when I catch the naughty gaze from the corner of my eyes, I know I’m done for. My entire neck turns in a deep shade of red, my body feeling hot all of a sudden.
“God, you’re the cutest little thing ever,” she muses.
“Stop it,” I groan.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Please?” It comes out as a whine, only making her laugh more.
“Fine, fine,” she ruffles my hair like I’m a petulant child, and the scowl on my face is instant. She ignores it, though, continuing to run her fingers through my hair. “We need to get your roots done again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I grin. “Whenever you want.”
“Soon, then,” she promises, and I bring her knuckles to my lips, kissing each one softly.
We reach the manor soon enough, there’s a lot of men still working on the repairs. The place took a massive hit during the shooting, and it’s going to take them at least a few days to fix everything, given that there are twenty of them working on the house.
“Jesus,” Blair sighs when she spots the state of the front yard. “Do I want to know how many people were here?”
I chuckle. “Nope. Not any of your concerns.”
Blair reaches for her seatbelt, and I swat her hand away, unbuckling her myself.
It’s one of the things I do for her, so she’s not allowed to do it on her own.
She rolls her eyes with a soft snort, but doesn’t comment on it.
I’m quick to leave the car, and reach her side, opening the passenger door for her.
She steps out, and heads for the house immediately.
She opens the door, stepping inside. The main priority was to clean up everything on the bottom floor, and although all the dead bodies and blood are gone, it’s only been two days.
It’s impossible to get everything fixed in such a short amount of time.
“Where’s everyone?”
“Top floor,” I respond, and she heads up the stairs, greeting everyone she sees with a small smile.
The top floor is Mom and Dad’s space, with their own living room, kitchen, massive bedroom, a few spare ones, and a couple of bathrooms. Do they use the living room and the kitchen?
Almost never, but this is when those come in handy.
Blair doesn’t make it three steps into the living room before she’s squished into a tight hug by Mom.
Blair’s hands are trembling when she returns the hug, holding Mom tightly.
The two are silent, holding each other. It’s no secret that Blair has come to see my mother as her own, but I don’t think she realizes that from the moment I introduced her to my parents, they started seeing her as their own too.
“Sweetheart,” Mom mutters softly, then pulls back. “Are you okay?”
Blair’s eyes are swollen with tears, but she nods nonetheless. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”
Mom chuckles. “I’m perfect now.”
They are silently talking now, only looking at each other with looks I could never understand. Mom is holding Blair’s bloodied hands in her own, squeezing them tightly. Blair smiles, and Mom leans in, kissing her cheek, ignoring the stains of blood.
“I’m proud of you, Blair.”
“Thank you,” she croaks out, the tears falling down her cheeks. Mom wipes them away with her thumbs, and I’m itching in the spot to hug her and shield her away. My hands are twitching by my sides, because why does Mom get to wipe her tears and not me?
Mom steps aside, and the moment Blair sees Hudson, she freezes. For a moment, I’m almost positive even the tears on her face solidify, rooted to the ground. He offers her a soft smile, but she’s not buying it.
In an instant, she approaches him and with utmost strength, knees him in the stomach. He groans, doubling over in pain, looking at Blair through the agony, holding his stomach.
“What the hell was that for?”
“For faking your death,” she grits out. “What was the fucking point in that?!”
He shrugs. “To pull the Ghost out of Arlo, and make sure he reached his full potential.”
“There were other ways to do that,” Blair scoffs.
“Oh, sure, but were they as brilliant as this? No.”
Blair can’t keep it in anymore, and she bursts into a small fit of giggles.
Dad pulls her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.
Blair all but melts into the touch, and I know that although her mother was a fucking monster, what she truly yearns for is a paternal figure in her life.
I’m so fucking grateful Hudson can be that for her.
My eyes narrow in suspicion when Blair pulls back, and I tilt my head to the side. Why the fuck is blood dripping down her stomach? My own sinks, churning and twisting.
“Blair, what the fuck is that?”