Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
DONOVAN
The adrenaline doesn’t leave all at once. It never does.
It hangs in the air, in the walls, in the way the house feels too still after everything that just happened. Like something loud has been shut off too fast and the silence doesn’t know what to do with itself.
I feel it in my hands first. Not shaking.
Not yet.
Just… restless.
Looking for something to do. Something to fix.
The bathroom mirror is still fogged from the shower. The scent of soap and steam lingers, mixing with something warmer—skin, heat, her.
Scarlett stands just inside the doorway now, wrapped in one of my button down shirts. It swallows her. Falls off one shoulder, loose and soft, like it belongs there. Like she does.
Her hair is damp, darker now, clinging to her neck. There’s a flush to her skin that hasn’t faded.
But her eyes… They’re different now. No longer scared the way I saw them earlier, when she had a gun in her hand and the memory of a man on his knees.
This is something else. Quieter. Too quiet.
I grab a towel off the rack and step closer. “Sit,” I say, nodding toward the edge of the bed.
She hesitates. Just for a second.
Then she does it without argument or pushback. That alone tells me everything I need to know.
I crouch in front of her and take her hands. That’s when I feel it. The tremor.
Small. Almost invisible.
But it’s there.
“Hey,” I say, softer now.
Her gaze lifts to mine like she’s been pulled there.
“I’m fine.” It comes out automatic. Too fast.
I don’t call her on it. I just hold her hands a little steadier. “I know,” I say.
Because she is… and she isn’t. Both can be true.
I turn her wrist gently, checking. There’s already a bruise forming along the inside—darkening under the skin where he grabbed her.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
But her fingers curl tighter around mine.
I press my thumb lightly along her wrist, then up her forearm. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to feel.
Grounding.
Her breath catches at the contact, warmth still moving between us.
If this is marriage. I want more of it. Tiny touches, care, meaning in the little things… together.
“Donovan…” My name lands different in her mouth now. Like I mean something to her.
I look up at her, and I see it then. The drop. The crash after the fight and the adrenaline. When everything she’s been holding together finally starts to loosen… and crumble.
“You ate anything?” I ask.
She blinks. Like the question catches her off guard. “No.”
“Okay.”
I stand and move to the kitchen without another word. Water first. I grab a bottle, twist the cap, and bring it back to her.
“Drink.”
She takes a long pull like she didn’t realize how dry she was.
Good.
I watch her for a second longer than I should. Making sure.
Then I head back for something quick—crackers, whatever’s easy. Nothing fancy. Just enough to settle her stomach.
When I come back, she hasn’t moved, still sitting there, holding the bottle.
But her shoulders have dropped a little. Some of the tension relaxed.
I shift closer. “Here.”
She takes the crackers, eats one slowly. Then another. Her movements are smaller now. Careful.
Like she’s aware of her body again in a way she wasn’t before.
We sit like that for a minute, letting the silence settle. No need to fill it.
It’s not empty. It’s… settling.
Her foot brushes mine accidentally. I don’t move away. Neither does she.
“I had him.” Her voice is quieter now but resolute and steady.
I meet her gaze, but she’s staring past me, seeing something beyond me. “I know.”
“I didn’t freeze.”
I angle toward her fully now. “No, you didn’t.”
She nods once, like she needs to hear it out loud. “I thought I would,” she says. “I thought… when it came down to it…” Her words trail off.
I don’t fill the space. I let her find it.
“But I didn’t,” she finishes.
“No,” I say again. “You didn’t.”
Her fingers tighten around the water bottle.
“I had him on his knees.”
“I know.”
“I could’ve—”
She stops. Swallows. Her throat works like the rest of that sentence is sitting there, heavy.
I don’t ask her to finish it. She doesn’t need to.
“I didn’t run,” she says. “I won’t again.”
There it is.
What she really means.
I reach over and take the bottle from her hand, set it on the nightstand.
Then I take her hand again.
Letting her know through touch that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
“No,” I say. “You didn’t.”
Her breath shifts and her face softens. “I’ve been running for a year,” she says. “From him. From everything. From… myself, I guess.”
Her gaze flicks to mine. “I didn’t think I could stop.”
“But you did. Last night.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, sniffling and rubbing a sleeve over her cheek. “I did.”
I lean back against the headboard and tug her gently with me. She folds into my side like it’s second nature.
Her head rests against my chest. My arm goes around her automatically. Not thinking. Just… right.
Her breathing is uneven at first. Then it slows, matching mine. My hand moves over her back in slow passes. She exhales, melting into me.
“I don’t feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin anymore,” she murmurs.
“Good.”
“I hate that feeling.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
I huff out a quiet breath. “Yeah.”
She tilts her head back just enough to look up at me. “When?”
“Calls,” I say. “Bad ones. Ones that stick.”
Her gaze sharpens slightly. “Like tonight?”
“Yeah.”
I don’t elaborate. I don’t need to.
She studies me for a second longer. Then she settles back against me. “Guess we’re both a mess, huh?”
I almost smile. “Guess so.”
Her hand slides across my stomach, fingers resting there. Her thumb moves once, slow, deliberate.
“I thought if I stopped running, everything would catch up to me,” she says.
“It might.”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“But you’re not alone in it.” Her body shifts slightly closer, her cheek heavy against my chest.
“How are you so calm about this?” she asks.
“I’m not.”
She tilts her head again. “You seem like it.”
“When you told me what happened… when I saw the gun, and you said that man had been here. In our house, trying to hurt you…” I work hard to steady my voice. But really, I want to punch a fucking wall. “Can’t think about that too much. About anything ever happening to you.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt. “That’s how I feel about you, you know,” she whispers. “Though it makes no sense at all. Though we still have so much to learn about each other.”
“That’s one of the many parts I’m looking forward to,” I confess, voice low. “Getting to know you inside and out. Every inch of you.”
I don’t mean it sexually, but it comes out all wrong. She gets it, though, somehow.
Her fingers glide over my chest, dancing playfully over my muscles. A light touch. Whisper touch. But it does crazy things to my pulse.
“I’m not used to men who stay,” she says softly.
Something tightens in my chest at that. I don’t say anything right away. I just tighten my arm around her a fraction. “You can get used to it,” I say finally.
Her breath hitches. Just a little. “That sounds… dangerous.”
“Only if I don’t mean it.”
She’s quiet for a long second. “I think you do.”
“I do.” I don’t over-embellish it. Go poetic or anything. I keep it simple because it’s the goddamned truth.
And it’s not going to change.
She chuckles softly to herself.
I bring a hand up, stroking her hair. “What are you laughing at?”
“Just thinking back on how Dallas described you at the auction. A steady man, a quiet one. A guy who sticks. I’ve been telling myself ever since the auction that I bid on you because you looked strong and safe.
Like a man who could protect me.” Her palm rests flat over my heart, measuring each beat.
“But maybe I was also curious about what a man who stays looks like.”
I snag her chin, tipping it up until her big black eyes settle on me. “Not sure what he looks like, but I know what he’s called,” I say slow and steady.
“Husband.”
There it is again. The word I can’t get enough of.
She exhales again. And this time—something in her fully lets go. Just enough that her weight settles heavier against me.
Trust.
That’s what this is.
I press my mouth lightly to the top of her head. “You should rest,” I murmur.
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to wake up and find out this was the easy part.”
It’s honest. And I get it. I really do.
I shift slightly, just enough to look down at her. “Then don’t sleep,” I say.
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“Stay awake. Sit here. Drink more water. Talk. Don’t talk.”
I shrug one shoulder. “We’ve got time.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for something. Maybe the catch.
There isn’t one.
“You’re really not going anywhere, are you?” she asks.
“No.”
“Even after all this?”
“Especially after all this.”
That does it. That’s the moment.
I feel it. The last piece click into place.
Her hand slides up, fingers brushing my jaw. Light and careful.
“You’re not what I expected,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“Not even a little.”
I catch her wrist gently, press my lips to the inside of it. Right over the fading tremor. “Good.”
She smiles, small but real. And then she tucks herself back against me, closer this time. No space left between us.
Her breathing evens out completely. I keep my hand moving over her back, slow and consistent. Counting the rhythm without meaning to. Making sure she stays right here. With me.
Not back there… running and alone. But here, with me.
And for the first time since the call came in… everything feels quiet in the right way.
Because everything I need… is right here in my arms.