Chapter Twenty-Two
Damion
Alana follows her declaration of her mother being on her own by pushing to her feet and traveling resolutely toward the living room window, placing space between herself and the phone call with Blake. I hit the button to disconnect the speaker and place the cell to my ear. “Blake, it’s Damion.”
“You don’t even have to say it. We’re watching her mother,” he says. “I’ll be there in the morning. Let me know if you need us sooner.”
We exchange a few more words and disconnect. I slide my phone in my pocket, my attention lifting to Alana, where she watches the hellish day finally end, a collage of gold and yellow painted across the skyline as the sun sinks low, hugging the high-rises. It’s a day we both will always remember, and yet we will always want to forget. But maybe forgetting is overrated. We must remember how easily life can change in the blink of an eye, how easily we can lose everything we love to truly value our blessings.
And each day with Alana is a blessing—the only one that matters to me.
I close the space between us, and when I step behind her, the sweet scent of the floral body wash she favors teases my nostrils . I want to just wash this day off of me, she’d said to me and Savage. There had been a desperation rooted deep in those words, a need to escape all memories of the hell she’s lived these past few hours. I wonder how hard she’d scrubbed her body, and I fear what it is she needed to wash away.
My hands settle on her shoulders, and touching her is everything and more. I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d never lay my hands on her again. She whips around to face me. “You told him to protect her.” Her words drip with accusation, and crackle with anger.
My gaze slides over her delicate, heart-shaped face, her lips parted, her breathing labored, as if her mind is racing while she forces her body to remain still.
“I know you like I know myself. Letting her die is not who you are, Alana. I will not let you forget that, and I damn sure never will, either.” I cup her face and tilt her gaze to mine, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, but there is nothing weak about her in this moment. Instead, there’s an air of defiance that clings to her, a second skin that I fear is more about suppressing today’s events than defeating them.
As if she reads my thoughts, she says, “I don’t know what happened to me. I told you. I don’t know. I don’t remember.” She tries to pull away, and I hold onto her, capturing her narrow waist.
“Why are you pulling away from me? Stay with me . Let me help. And stop holding back because you think I’m going to kill him, Alana. The man deserves to die, but I’m not foolish enough to end up in jail, either. And I’m damn sure not wasting another day I could have with you. Today drove home how foolish I was to ever try to protect you by staying away from you. And you need to remember that. We’re better together, stronger together, Alana.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I do know that. I just need you to really know it, too.”
“I do. I promise you, baby I do.” I stroke my fingers over her soft cheek. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
She curls the fingers of one hand into her palm and presses her fist to her face, as if she’s creating a shelter of sorts. I caress her hair, trying not to push her, terrified of what she hasn’t told me. “When I was in the shower,” she finally confesses, lowering her hand and allowing me to see the stark emotion in her eyes, “I was checking myself, making sure there was no evidence of anyone touching me.”
My heart races, and my anger rages like thunder crashing in that moment before the downpour. My hands capture her shoulders, dread a painful groan inside me. “And?”
“Nothing,” she replies easily, “but what if—what if it’s not easy to know? Maybe you should check, too? Make sure—”
I capture her face and tilt her gaze to mine. “I love you. You know that, right? So fucking much.”
Her lashes lower for a flutter of a moment and lift. “I know. Of course, I know. I love you, too. I’m just not sure how we ever escape this curse that’s on us.”
“Baby, there’s no curse. There is just my father. And we’ll deal with him.”
“He always wins.”
“Because I let him. This is all on me.”
“Stop,” she hisses vehemently, grabbing my shirt again and twisting it in her fingers. “I told you—”
I capture her mouth and kiss her, and she tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted and almost lost. I back her up against the steel divider across the window, as I have once before. It was when we were finding our way together, and it feels like forever ago now, when it was far too recent. “Alana—”
“Please check.” She tugs at her robe, and I ease back to allow it to fall to the ground.
Her legs tremble against mine, and her fear is like an unripe berry on a tree—bitter, not sweet, as her safety should be. She reaches for the pink silk of her gown, and I help her pull it over her head. And then she’s gorgeously naked, and the act of showing me this much trust, after what she went through, all but moves the world around me.
My hands slide over her arms and linger on her fingers a moment. “Turn around, sweetheart,” I order softly.
Her chin bobs, and she rotates, offering me her back, and it’s another sign of the bond we share that is decades old that formed as we grew up together. Very few people find someone who can live a lifetime with them, but I have in Alana. And I will not lose her. I will not push her away ever again.
I might have promised not to kill my father, but I never said I wouldn’t make him suffer.
And enjoy it.