Chapter 38 – Marlowe
Chapter Thirty-Eight
MARLOWE
Right before my knees buckle, Damian scoops me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my face against his shoulder to block out the world. The smell of him—sweat, blood, and something inherently him—grounds me.
He murmurs something I can’t make out, his lips brushing the top of my head as he carries me to the SUV. I don’t want to look around, don’t want to see what’s left of Joel’s body in a heap outside the hole. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face into Damian’s neck, willing the images away.
He tucks me into the passenger seat, making sure I’m buckled in before he shuts the door and moves to the driver’s side. I catch a glimpse of Bridger, his face drawn and serious, checking on the others. I can’t think about any of it. Not yet.
Damian climbs in, turning the key, and the engine roars to life. His hand finds mine, resting on the console between us, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. I don’t let go. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.
The drive back feels like a blur, my mind too fractured to make sense of anything. My body aches, bruised and scraped, but it’s nothing compared to the hollowness in my chest.
By the time we get to the Cross brothers’ house, the sky is starting to darken, streaks of pink and gold on the horizon. Damian helps me out, keeping one arm around me as we walk inside. I can’t stop leaning into him, afraid that if I don’t, I’ll collapse.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I break. The tears come fast and hard, and I can’t hold them back. Damian pulls me against him, his hands running up and down my back, murmuring that it’s okay, that I’m safe, that he’s here.
I clutch his shirt, my fingers digging into the fabric, and sob into his chest. The weight of everything crashes down, all the fear and the helplessness, the anger and the betrayal.
“I thought you left me,” I whisper, barely audible. “I thought . . . I thought you were gone. That I’d never see you again.”
His arms tighten around me, his lips brushing my temple. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I didn’t think I deserved to—”
I pull back, wiping my face, shaking my head. “Everyone leaves me, Damian. Everyone always leaves.”
He lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are fierce, unwavering. “Not me. I’m not going anywhere. Not ever. I swear to you.”
I can barely breathe, my heart twisting in my chest. “You mean it?”
He nods, pressing his forehead to mine. “Yeah. I mean it.”
Bridger clears his throat from the doorway, but he doesn’t interrupt. Damian doesn’t move, his hand still cradling my face.
“We still don’t know where Vick or Taylor went,” Bridger says, and I stiffen.
“I don’t care,” I cut in, surprising myself. “I don’t want anything to do with them. When I get back to New Jersey, I’m filing restraining orders against both of them. I’m done.”
Bridger gives a slow nod. “Probably smart. You did good back there, you know. We’re glad you’re okay.
” He hesitates, looking between me and Damian.
“I’m sorry, Marlowe. About what happened.
But I always knew you had nothing to do with taking Delilah’s money.
” He shrugs. “I’m sorry you got involved in this. ”
“It’s okay,” I whisper, wiping my cheeks. “You both had every right to doubt me. I would have, too.”
Bridger gives a small, tight smile and steps out, leaving us alone.
Damian doesn’t let go, his hand still on my cheek, his other arm wrapped around my waist. “I never really wanted to leave you,” he says, his voice rougher now, like he’s confessing something he’s been holding back.
“I just thought . . . I thought I’d ruin you. That I wasn’t good enough to keep you.”
My chest tightens, but I reach up and cup his face, forcing him to look at me. “You’re wrong. You didn’t ruin me. You saved me.”
His lips part, and I can see the pain and relief flicker across his face. “You don’t know how much I want to believe that.”
“I don’t care if you’re messed up, Damian. I don’t care about anything but being with you. I just want you.”
He lets out a shaky breath, and before I can say anything else, his mouth is on mine. It’s slow and deep, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against him. I lose myself in it, in the warmth and the taste of him, the way his lips move against mine.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless.
“I think I…I think I really like you,” he says, voice raw and unguarded.
My breath catches. “I think I really like you too.”
A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face, and he pulls me into another kiss, softer this time, like he’s making a promise.
Bridger pops his head back in, smirking. “What are you two going to do now?”
Damian glances at me, then back at his brother. “We’re going back to Jersey,” he says. “There’s a bakery to open up.”
My heart swells, and I can’t help but laugh through the tears still clinging to my lashes. Bridger just shakes his head. “About damn time,” he mutters, walking away.
Damian pulls me against his chest again, his lips brushing my hair. “We’ll make it work,” he whispers.
And for the first time in a long time, I believe it. I hold onto him, feeling safe, and I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.