Chapter 14 #2
"I—" I looked around at all of them, at the women I'd protected and failed and somehow helped save. "I want to. Now that you're all safe, now that I know you're being cared for, I... yes. I want to see them."
"You should." Katya's smile was encouraging. "You deserve to go home, Marie."
Home, with Papa. It felt strange. I’d spent five years thinking of family as something I'd lost, something I'd never get back. And now these women were telling me I could have it again. I could go back to the life I'd been stolen from.
But that would mean leaving Wade.
The thought hit me sharply. I'd go home to Papa, and Wade would... what? Go back to his estate? Back to his life of wealth and power, and whatever he did when he wasn't acting out a fairy tale?
We'd been together for three days—less than that, really. Barely seventy-two hours of knowing each other. There was no reason for him to keep me around after this.
No reason except that I'd somehow gotten way too attached to this man. That he'd called me his ‘darling’ and made me feel crazy things. No reason except that I didn't want to be anywhere else.
I turned to look at him, seeking... something. Guidance, reassurance. Some indication of what happened next.
Wade was watching me with those eyes that saw too much. Patient and waiting, like he knew exactly what I was thinking and was giving me time to ask.
"I would have to—" I started, my voice smaller than I intended. "After I see them, I'd have to leave, wouldn't I? Go back to my old life?"
His hand moved from my shoulder to my hair, brushing it from my neck. His fingers traced along my skin lightly, barely there, but enough to make me shiver. Then he leaned down, his mouth close to my ear, his voice dropping to something intimate and private despite the room full of women.
"You're going to spend time with me, darling." His breath was warm against my skin. "If you'll have me."
I froze. Turned my head slightly to look at him, to see if I'd heard right. "What?"
His expression was soft, open, almost hopeful. "I'm not forcing you. You're free to make your own choices, to go wherever you want. But I'd like you to consider staying with me at the estate. For as long as you want."
"Staying?" My eyes went wide, heart doing a little flip in my chest. "Like... living with you?"
"Living with me, sleeping in my bed, letting me spoil you."
"But I…” I couldn't process it. Couldn't make sense of what he was offering. "Beyond helping you, paying you back somehow for all this, you actually want me to stay?"
"Paying me back?" He looked genuinely confused. "Marie, you don't owe me anything, but I assumed...”
"I owe you everything!” The words burst out, desperate. "You saved them. Saved me. Gave us resources and protection. I have to repay that somehow."
"No." His hand cupped my face, gentle but firm. "You don't at all. What I did, I did because you asked for help and I was in a position to give it. There's no debt, darling. No obligation."
"Then why—" I gestured between us at a loss, unable to articulate the confusion. "Why do you want me to stay?"
"Because I like having you in my life.” He said it honestly, completely unbothered by the audience. "Because you're so brave, so beautiful, and you make me feel whole. Because the idea of you leaving makes me ache.”
The confession made my heart stutter, and heat flooded my cheeks despite the many pairs of eyes watching this exchange with varying degrees of interest and amusement.
"You barely know me," I whispered weakly, trying to hold back my stupid smile. "It's been three days."
"I know enough." His thumb stroked my cheek. "I know you jumped out of a moving car to save these women. I know you burned yourself with poison to escape. I know you're strong, stubborn, and you blush when I praise you. That's enough for me."
"Wade...” I melted, tilting my head into his palm.
"Think about it." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, soft and sweet. "See your family, spend time with your father and Honey, and process everything that's happened. Then, if you want to, come back to the estate. My door will be open."
I stared at him, trying to understand how this perfect man was real. How could he look at me, broken and traumatized, barely holding myself together, and want me to stay? Want me at all?
"Okay," I breathed.
His smile was warm, satisfied. "Good girl."
"Oh my god," Sophia said from the couch, and I'd almost forgotten the girls were there. "Marie, he's gorgeous and rich, and he clearly adores you. If you don't stay with him, I will."
Laughter rippled through the room, breaking the tension. I smiled, some of the weight lifting from my chest.
"He is pretty gorgeous," I admitted, which made Wade's smile widen and the girls laugh harder. I peeked up at him to see his reaction.
"Pretty gorgeous?" Wade's voice was amused. "I'll take it."
"And old," I added teasingly, which earned me raised eyebrows from several women. "He's forty-seven."
"Forty-seven and looks like that?" One girl fanned herself dramatically. "Marie, you’d better lock that down before someone else does."
"I'm trying to make that happen,” Wade said dryly, and the room erupted in laughter again.
It felt good and so normal. Like we were just women talking about relationships instead of survivors discussing our futures. We could all have normal lives again.
Eventually, Dr. Patricia appeared in the doorway, her expression apologetic. "I hate to interrupt, but the ladies need rest. And you, Marie, should probably get off those feet. I can see you're in pain."
Wade's hand tightened on my shoulder. "She's been hiding it for the past hour."
"I'm fine," I started, but his look made me stop.
"You're in pain," he corrected. "And we're going to address that. Say goodbye to your girls. We'll come back tomorrow if you’d like.”
I hugged each of them again, whispered promises to visit again soon, to help them contact their families, to be there for whatever they needed. They hugged me back just as tightly, tears and smiles mixing together.
"Thank you," Lena called once more as we reached the door. "For everything, Marie. For never giving up on us."
"Thank you for not giving up on yourselves," I managed past the lump in my throat. "I'll see you soon.”
The moment we stepped into the hallway and the door closed behind us, Wade scooped me up bridal style, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back, cradling me against his chest.
"Wade!" I squeaked, throwing my arms around his neck. "I can walk, you know! I'm not helpless."
"Shh." His voice was soft, with that edge of command that made my stomach flutter. "You've been on those feet long enough, little darling. Let me take care of you."
He was looking at me with such tenderness, such obvious care, I didn't even try to fight him. I just snuggled closer. My hands moved without conscious thought, finding the soft hair at his nape.
He started walking, carrying me through the hallways. Dr. Patricia watched us pass with a knowing smile, and I buried my face against Wade's neck to hide my burning cheeks. To hide how good this felt, how right, how much I wanted to stay small and safe in his arms.
"You did so well in there," Wade praised against my hair. "I know it was hard facing them, hearing what they had to say. Processing all those big emotions. You were so brave."
The praise hit differently than it usually did. Deeper, making me go all soft and small.
"It was a lot,” I admitted quietly, playing with the hair at his nape. The gesture was meant to soothe myself, while he soothed me with his words. "I didn't know what they'd say. If they'd be angry or something.”
"I know you were scared." His arms tightened around me, holding me closer, protectively. "But you walked in there anyway, you faced those fears, and you handled it beautifully. I'm so proud of you."
Proud of you. The words made me preen. When was the last time someone had been proud of me? When was the last time someone had seen me struggle with something difficult and praised me for getting through it instead of just expecting me to manage?
My fingers tightened in his hair, around his neck, clinging. I should have been embarrassed, but somehow I wasn’t. Not with him. Not when he was holding me like this, making me feel things I'd never felt before.
"Thank you," I whispered. Was I thanking him for the praise? For carrying me? For understanding that this had taken everything I had?
"You don't need to thank me for telling you the truth." His lips pressed against my temple, soft and lingering. "You were magnificent in there, Marie. You handled such big emotions with so much grace. I'm so, so proud of how brave my girl was."
His girl. Combined with that praise, being called brave, and the way he was holding me, it made me feel so free, as if I could just be taken care of by this man forever.
My face pressed harder against his neck, breathing in his scent, letting his words wash over me like a balm on wounds.
“My brave girl,” he continued, his voice that low, soothing rumble that made everything feel manageable. "You can let go now. You don't have to be strong anymore. You can be small for me if you need to. I'll take care of everything."
And something inside me just... melted.
The tension I'd been holding, the fear and anxiety, that desperate need to be capable, drained away until I felt warm and utterly safe in his arms. I could finally stop carrying the weight of the world because someone else was strong enough to carry it for me.
This feeling of wanting to be cared for, wanting to curl up in his arms and let him make all the decisions—it was confusing. I was thirty-two, not a child, but something about Wade's praise made me feel younger. It made me crave his approval and protection.
“There,” Wade murmured, and I felt the rumble all the way to my toes. "Just relax. Let me handle everything. You've done enough for today. You've been so good."
Thomas had the car door open by the time we reached it, and Wade settled into the backseat, arranging me so I was curled against his chest with my head tucked under his chin.
“All mine now,” he teased softly, and the words made warmth bloom in me. “Rest. We'll be home soon."
Home, his estate, his bed. All of it was starting to feel less temporary and more like something I could see myself needing.
His hand stroked my back, while the other played with my hair, a hypnotic motion. The combination was making me drowsy, soft, and fuzzy around the edges.
This perfect man made me feel so safe, so cherished. Like being small for him wasn't a weakness, but something he encouraged with every touch and every word of praise.
My eyes drifted closed, lingering exhaustion finally pulling me under. Wade held me while I slept, and I trusted completely that he'd keep me safe.
That this older, powerful man would cherish me, praise me, and let me be small when I needed to be.