Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
Hazel
Our brothers are busy taking care of the mess we made today. I feel a flurry of guilt as I drive Ramsey and me back to the house, feeling like we should have stayed to help somehow. But Ramsey needs time to process; he’s still unusually quiet, and he’s apologized a half dozen times to me for what happened. No matter how many times I promise I’m okay, he doesn’t seem sure enough, and I want his mind off everything that happened. I can’t stand to watch him spiral into despair the same way I have before, and if I have to be strong for both of us until I can bring him out of this, I will. Our brothers can hold the fort down in the meantime. Plus, if you can’t rely on your family to take care of the dead bodies—what kind of family are they really?
“Are you doing okay?” I ask. The night is late, and the moon is starting to fade over the horizon .
“I’m fine,” he answers, his voice muted as he stares out the window.
“We need to get ourselves cleaned up. Burn the clothes. Take a shower.”
“Yes.” He nods. “I don’t want any traces of this on you.” He looks over at me, worry coloring his face. “I wish you hadn’t been out there with us. It would have been better. You didn’t need to see that. Losing both of them that way in one day.”
“They weren’t who they said they were.” I try to shrug it off. I don’t want him worried about me right now, but he’s not wrong. It had sliced straight through my heart to find out two people I’d trusted and cared for so much had turned out to be manipulating me. It’s something I’m not sure I’ll ever fully recover from, but it’s something I can keep marching through. After all, this is life—one hard thing after another. We just have to keep finding our way through to the other side. As long as I have the people I love with me, I can find a way to make it through.
“You’re too good to people, Haze. They don’t deserve you. They abuse it, and I wish I could fucking kill them again for it.” He shakes his head, wincing at the thought, as he runs his fingers over the back of his knuckles.
“You don’t have to worry about it anymore. They’re gone, and I’m wiser for it. It’s a shock, but I’ll be okay. It was a surprise for all of us… what you found out about Amelia…” I risk a glance at him as we pull down the small dirt road, getting closer to the house again.
“I’m glad it was me. That I could end it. That’s fucked up, I know. But it felt… good. Both times I’ve had to do it… It felt good to put an end to the misery those people brought on the world. I don’t know what that says about me.” It’s a vulnerable admission on his part, one I’m sure he wouldn’t make to my brothers or his. The kind of truth he’d only trust to me, and one I have to be careful with.
“I think it means you loved the people you were protecting,” I say, turning to him as I put the truck in park.
“I’m sorry you had to make that choice with Curtis. He deserved it, that and worse, really, but I’m sorry it had to be you.”
“I’m not. I’d do it again,” I say softly, staring up at the stars through the windshield. I didn’t feel the deep satisfaction from it the way Ramsey does, but I certainly don’t feel any remorse. Good isn’t a terrible word to describe it either.
I’m sure I should feel worse than I do. That someday this might hit me like a ton of bricks in a therapy session three years from now while I bawl my eyes out into a mound of tissues on the coffee table next to the therapy couch. But right now, I’m the therapist… “I know what you mean when you say it felt good,” I add. His eyes meet mine, deep pools of empathy reflected in them, and he holds out his hand for mine, squeezing me tight when I return the gesture.
“Let’s get cleaned up.” I tilt my head toward the house, and he nods his agreement before we climb out of the truck.
The steam rolling off the water fills the shower room in our master bathroom. I’m on my second round of soap and shampoo, trying to make sure every bit of Amelia and Curtis is washed off me. Ramsey has barely moved, leaning against the shower tile and letting the water run down his back. There’s a sharp red line on his skin the rivulets of water follow as they make their way to the drain. I slip some conditioner into the ends of my hair and make my way over to him.
The gentlest touch startles him, and he looks back over his shoulder. His eyes are rimmed with red, and his face is still tight with worry. This shower isn’t doing nearly as much for him as it is for me.
“Come here,” I whisper, motioning for him to turn around.
“I’m fine.” He stands up straighter, apparently worried I might judge him for not being numb in the wake of the day’s events.
“I know you are,” I reassure him, and he turns reluctantly, letting me wrap my arms around his middle. I press a kiss to the center of his chest, and he leans down to kiss the top of my head. We stand like that, just holding each other for a few minutes before I step back, grabbing the teak chair that’s pressed up against the wall. “Sit.” I pat the seat, and he looks up at me, perplexed and frowning. “Just trust me.”
He complies, slowly sitting down and dwarfing the small bench, adjusting once or twice like he’s afraid he might break it before he finally settles down. I grab my shampoo bottle and pour a small amount into my palm, lathering it up between my hands before I start to run it through his hair. He freezes up at first like I’m taking too many liberties with him. But as my fingers massage his scalp and I drag my nails gently down the nape of his neck, he relaxes into my touch. His eyes close, and he leans back as I work the strands up into a bubbly lather.
“Keep them closed,” I say softly as I reach for the handheld, turning it on to a gentle setting. I slowly rinse the suds from his scalp, cupping my hand around his ears and eyes as I go. I watch as some of the tension in his shoulders goes lax, and they fall an inch and then two by the time I’m done.
I move to the bodywash next. I don’t think when I grab it off the small ledge, putting my harvest apple scent into my hands and then onto the washcloth instead of his woodsier version. I swear softly and go to wash it off, but he grabs my wrist and looks up at me.
“Leave it,” he whispers and nods to the cloth.
I work just as carefully as I did with the shampoo, sudsing his neck and shoulders and moving down his back. I pause at intervals to make sure I’ve tackled all the spots that are extra dirty, stained with blood or grime from the aftermath of the day.
He holds still for my ministrations, allowing me to move and position his limbs as I need, and standing as I start to move over his lower back and his butt and thighs. I move to his front, working down his legs and knees, all the way down to his ankles and feet, making sure I cover every single inch of him.
When I finish, I toss the washcloth to the side and pull him close, placing my hand over his heart as I feel his body shudder. I look up, and there are tears in his eyes again, only this time they fall.
“I’m sorry.” He mouths the words, and I press my lips together, my eyebrows softening as I study him.
“Don’t ever apologize to me for loving your family and wanting to keep them safe. You don’t owe anyone an apology for that. Least of all me. If anything, Ramsey, I love you more for it.”
“Do you love me? After everything?” He can barely bring himself to ask the question. “I’m so fucking scared of losing you, sugar. So terrified of dragging you into this miserable life of mine, one you didn’t ask for. One that keeps asking more and more of you, even when it’s taken everything from us already.”
“You’ll never lose me. Not in this life or the next.” I lift my eyes to meet his because I want him to hear the next bit, really hear it. “And it could take everything else from me, as long as the two of us are still standing at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.” I rise onto my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips, one that takes him off guard. His eyes open wide, and he blinks for a moment.
“Let me melt the ice away, sugar. Please. I need you tonight.” His hands bracket my jaw, and his eyes search mine for any sign of hope.
“I need you every night.” I kiss him again, so whisper soft that I barely feel his lower lip as mine brushes over it. Not until he answers it with a kiss so feverish that he nearly knocks me off-balance. It’s wild and desperate, like a lifeline between us, as his lips move over mine in rough, pleading strokes. He’s making up for lost time, finally taking what’s always been his.
“I want you forever, Haze. Please let me keep you this time.” The words are a mess, scattered in between one kiss after another as his fingers tangle in my wet hair. “Please.”
“I’m never letting go again,” I warn him.
“Never again,” he promises.
I shut the water off as he backs me up against the wall, pinning me and kissing me, his body pressed against mine. We stay like that for long minutes until my teeth chatter against his next kiss. His eyes dart to mine, worry in them as he pulls me from the shower, wraps me in a large bath towel, and carries me to bed.
He only unwraps me once he’s sure the fire’s on in the fireplace, and I’ve promised him I’m warm as I slip under the covers. He makes his way slowly to my side, studying me like he’s committing me to memory before he climbs in bed. He reaches for me, and his thick arms wrap around my body, dragging me to his side. I wrap my leg around his hip and my hand around his neck as he kisses me one last time before nuzzling his nose against my neck.
“Mine.” His voice breaks through the night with a quiet declaration one last time before we both fall asleep so closely wrapped around each other that I’m not sure where I end and he begins.