47. Chapter 45
Xavier
Staring at the door to Emery’s dorm, I exhale heavily and shove my hand through my still-damp hair as I do the mental work to let go of the last few hours.
Only one more weekend of this double life bullshit left to go, then I will have done enough to return the fucking favor that piece of shit cost me, from last weekend.
In Hawk’s defense, disposing of a dead body wasn’t an easy favor to handle.
Slamming the mental door on that side of my life shut takes more effort than I’m happy about, but I get it done, before opening the door and entering the dorm as quietly as possible.
I’d watched the girls both go to bed a couple of hours ago and as much as I want to spend time with my dove, they both need their sleep.
I shift my gear bag around the flimsy box with Emery’s latest gift—this time from me—until I can lower the bag to its usual spot in the corner near the couch, happy to deal with the laundry tomorrow, and then I go to Emery’s bedroom door.
Her live with Derek finished an hour ago. The creeper watched all the way until the live cut out at the set time, even though she fell asleep within minutes of it starting. Watching him watch her, while I monitored my old team through an extraction, had been a weird twist of both my lives.
Unlike before, I don’t want her waking up. She has expressly banned me from her room, and while that frustrates the fuck out of me, I’m giving her the space she is asking for. Mostly. Well, not really, but I’m giving her enough that she believes she has it.
It’s the best I can offer.
I turn the recently lubricated and now noiseless doorknob and make my way into her room, careful not to bump the box on my way to her desk, where I leave it and Hudson’s latest letter for her. She still hasn’t opened the first gift, with the polka dots, so I move it next to my gift.
Playing Hudson’s messenger boy would be getting old, if I wasn’t reading each of his notes to her. I promised to give Emery privacy with that notebook, but I never made that same promise about his letters to her.
Emery’s hair is loose and spread out over her pillow, body turned away from me. She’s lost her grip on her bear, and the laptop is still out and open on the edge of her bed.
Absolutely fucking gorgeous.
I have to clench my fists to stop myself from reaching out and touching her. From scooping her up and taking her while she’s still half asleep.
Every fantasy I’ve ever had about her flashes through my mind in rapid fire, but they have to fucking stay there. They do. As much as the first plan was fucking ridiculous, this one is not. Whereas the last one forced distance, this one provides time and proximity.
She has all the information she needs to make her own decision. We won’t be doing that for her. Unless she makes the wrong fucking one. Then I’ll be more than happy to correct her.
But for now, she gets what she is asking for—all the fucking space.
I reach for the lid of her laptop and gently push on it until it’s shut, then lift the entire thing from her bed, transferring it to her desk. Glancing at the gift and then back at my girl, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
It won’t be much longer now. It can’t be.
She is starting to soften. The sharp edge to her pain is dulling. Time is allowing her anger to simmer down and make space for us.
She’ll want us again.
Crossing the room to the door, I turn for one last look at her and freeze when I find her eyes open and watchful.
Fuck.
Was she awake this entire time? How had I failed to notice?
Her breathing was even. No flicker of her eyelashes.
Is faking being asleep a skill she’s had to acquire?
My blood boils in my veins when I think about her time in foster care.
Not a single person did right by our girl.
She was shuffled around until she landed at that final group home.
The one and only person who proved in a fucking pinch of care was her art teacher.
The woman seems to be a good person, but I’m going to keep an eye on her for a little longer before I tell the others about her.
I shift on my feet not breaking our stare off. She obviously fucking knows I go into her room to deliver her gifts, and if that was bothering her, then she would have said something. So that can’t be the issue right now.
But what is?
Darcy said that the rope session with her today left her a bit droppy, but I’m attributing that to the fact she hasn’t had a proper scene in weeks.
We know she loves restraints, whether physical or mental, and being tied up like she was for Darcy’s session would have triggered a whole bunch of emotions she probably hasn’t even processed.
I break the eye contact to scan her, looking for any signs of a secondary drop, but there are none. No trembling, no twitching, no shrinking away. When I get back to her face, her expression is as blank as it was seconds ago.
For the first time in a long time, I have no idea what to fucking do. I can’t read her. I have no clue what she wants from me.
My insides tighten as I wait, very fucking aware that, right now, I’m the prey instead of the hunter.
I’m locked in place, those beautiful eyes as good as any restraint I’ve ever used on her.
And when they finally close and she rolls over, giving me her back again, the tension in me evaporates, and I’m left feeling cold and a little uneven. I don’t even give a fuck that my inhale is noisy and clearly shows how much she got to me just now.
I start to step backward, ready to leave her to her peace, but then she shocks the fuck out of me by holding up the edge of the blanket behind her in a clear invitation to join her.
Slipping back into her room, I close the door quietly behind me, toe off my shoes near her desk, strip down to my boxer briefs, and crawl in behind her. I slip my arms around her and press us together, my body curving around hers.
I give zero fucks that she can no doubt feel the hard and rapid thump of my heart against her back.
“You never left me. You were always there. Even when they were gone.”
Her whispered words sound like statements, but I hear the question.
“Never.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew what I wanted.”
The silence is long enough that it’s possible she’s started to fall asleep, but then she inhales deeply.
“Why didn’t they just tell me? Why didn’t you?”
“Because they had their own decisions to make.”
“We could have made the decisions together.”
“There was a lot to consider for them, they had a lot more to lose than I did. They needed the time to decide if you were worth losing it all for.”
She tenses in my arms, and I hear her heavy swallow. “No one is worth that much.”
I kiss the exposed skin behind her ear. “Little dove, you are worth everything. They know that now.”
She doesn’t reply.
And as I fall asleep, I know she is still awake.