Chapter 46
Getting Derek to the car was an adventure.
I’d driven his Lexus—the black SUV that was part spaceship—and pulled it right up to the entrance. Smart thinking on my part, because walking was proving to be more challenging than expected for my heavily sedated boyfriend.
“Left foot,” I instructed, my arm tight around his waist. He was heavier than he looked, all solid muscle, and he kept listing to the side like a ship in a storm. “Now right foot. There you go. You’re doing great.”
“I feel like a baby deer.”
“You look like one too. Very Bambi on ice.”
“That’s mean.”
“I’m a mean person. Watch the curb.”
I manoeuvred him into the passenger seat with more effort than I’d anticipated, buckling his seatbelt like he was a child. He blinked up at me with those big brown eyes, dopey and trusting, and something in my chest twisted painfully.
I rounded the front of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. The leather was soft, the dashboard sleek and modern. Everything about this vehicle screamed money.
“Your car is very fancy,” I told him as I pushed the ignition button.
“It was a signing bonus thing. M’kenzie picked it out.” He blinked slowly, his words slurring together. “I sh-should probably stop mentioning her, huh?”
“She was a big part of your life.”
“It still sucks.”
“I know it does.” I pulled out of the parking lot, handling the SUV carefully. It drove like a dream—smooth and responsive—but it was bigger than anything I was used to. “Just relax. We’ll be home soon.”
Home. The word slipped out without thinking. Like his apartment was my home too.
Maybe it was. I spent more time there than at Avery’s these days. My toothbrush was in his bathroom. My clothes were in his closet. Aspen greeted me at the door like I belonged there.
Derek let his head loll against the headrest, watching the city slide by through the window. His jaw was swollen, his cheek already starting to bruise, and there was gauze packed into his mouth that made him look vaguely chipmunk-esque. He was still the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
“When we get home, I’m going to watch YouTube,” he announced.
“Okay?”
“Videos of you skating.” The words came out slow and syrupy, tumbling over each other like he couldn’t quite control them. “I got a whole playlist. From before. So purty.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Derek...”
“So purty when you skate. Like you’re flying.
I want to fly.” He smiled, that goofy, unguarded smile that the sedation had unlocked.
“I knew I was in trouble the first time I saw you skate.
At the rink. You were doing a spin and your hair…
The light. Ugh. I thought... I thought, ‘Wow, he cannot be real.’“
The lane detection went off as my focus wavered from the road. I corrected it, my jaw tight, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“You can’t just say things like that,” I managed, my voice strained.
“Why not? S’true.” He reached over clumsily and patted my arm, missing twice before making contact.
“You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow,” I said finally.
“Prolly not.” He yawned, wincing as the motion pulled at his jaw.
The rest of the drive was quiet. Derek drifted in and out, lulled by the motion of the car and the warmth of the heated seats. At some point, my hand found his, our fingers threading together across the center console.
He squeezed gently. I squeezed back.
I didn’t let go until we reached the apartment.
◆◆◆
Getting him from the car to his bed was another production entirely.
He was more asleep than awake by the time I parked in the garage and I had to half carry, half drag him to the elevator. The doorman gave me a curious look but didn’t say anything. Small mercies.
“Almost there,” I murmured as we stumbled down the hallway. “Come on, just a few more steps.”
“Tired,” he mumbled against my shoulder.
“I know. You can sleep soon.”
Aspen was waiting at the door, tail wagging, oblivious to the fact that his daddy was currently higher than a kite. I nudged him aside with my foot and guided Derek toward the bedroom.
He collapsed onto the mattress with a groan. I unlaced his shoes and pulled them off, then tugged the covers up over him.
He looked different like this. Young. Unguarded. The Derek I usually saw was steady and sure—the leader who kept his teammates calm during a losing streak, the mentor who always knew the right thing to say, the man who held me together when I was falling apart. He never faltered. Never cracked.
But this Derek—loopy and vulnerable—was something else entirely. Something I’d never seen before. He mumbled something about loving my hair and burrowed into the pillow like a child, and I felt something shift in my chest.
He took care of everyone. Always. And now, for once, I got to take care of him.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed the hair back from his forehead. His skin was warm under my fingers.
“Sleep,” I said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
His eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Mmkay, good, cause I love you.” He smiled—that dopey, drugged smile—and closed his eyes again.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead, lingering there for a moment, breathing him in. He smelled like antiseptic and that bergamot shower gel and something underneath that was just Derek.
Trust Saint Sully to love someone as fucked up as me.
I wanted to blame his saviour complex—easier to believe he was trying to fix me than to accept he actually wanted me.
But maybe I’d been wrong about him. Maybe Saint Sully wasn’t a saint at all.
Just a man. A man who somehow saw something worth loving in all my sharp edges and jagged pieces, even when I couldn’t see it myself.
“I love you too, you idiot,” I whispered against his skin.
He didn’t respond. He was already asleep, his breathing deep and even, his hand curled loosely around mine.
I stayed there for a long time, watching him sleep, letting the words settle into my bones.
I love you.
He’d said it like it was simple.
Maybe, with him, it could be.