Epilogue
Brock swung his feet over the edge of the bed and fought off the waves of dizziness.
They assailed him every fucking time he stood up.
But they subsided after a few seconds, which was a hell of a lot quicker than last week.
He was improving daily, but it would take some time before he was one-hundred-percent.
He grasped the nightstand for balance and then kicked aside the slippers that Dani had left by his bed—he would not turn into some slipper-wearing, unshaven bum over this. A knock sounded at the door of his bedroom and his heart rate kicked up. Instantly, the need to hug a toilet bowl hit him.
Jesus, he’d gotten weak. That or he was about to do the scariest thing he’d ever done in his life. “Come in.”
The door eased open and Milo stood there, a stupid grin on his face. “You’re not nude, are you? Don’t ask me to wipe your ass or help you in the shower, I swear to god, man. That exceeds the boundaries of our friendship.”
Brock scowled. He didn’t have the patience for Milo’s bullshit. “Would you shut up and get in here? Close the door.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Milo said, but he obeyed. “Keep sweet-talking me like that and I won’t give you your present.” He swung a small white bag from the tip of his finger. Brock advanced on him. Milo chuckled, shoved the bag into his hands, and backed off with his hands in the air.
“Thanks for picking this up.” The severe concussion from the blow to his head had caused more inconvenience than the bullet wound itself.
The other day his doctor had confirmed that he was on the road to healing but stressed that he take it easy for another couple of weeks.
Which meant avoiding his usual activities, including driving.
At least the bullet graze on his arm had healed, although even that was still a bit sore.
“No problem. Man, you’re easy to poke. Honestly, are you feeling all right? Do you want me to grab some pain pills or anything?” Real concern laced his voice and the playful glint in his eye fled.
Brock dropped onto the bench at the end of the bed. Dani had brought it over from her place. Things had been moving quickly for them. They’d been inseparable the last two weeks, almost as if each feared something would happen to the other if they wandered too far.
He opened the bag and reached for the box inside. “No. I’m fine. I haven’t taken anything for pain since they drugged me up in Paris. Just nervous.” He shrugged, but the admission fell short of the utter terror making his movements clumsy.
Milo moved to the decorative chair in the corner of the room—another addition from Dani that made his bedroom a whole lot cozier—and lowered his elbows to his knees.
“I get it. But this is Dani. You’ve known her for half your life.”
Brock nodded and pried open the box. An emerald-cut diamond stared back at him.
The anxiety in his belly sent a searing shot of pain to his chest. It wasn’t cold feet.
No. Everything with Dani felt right. Sleeping with her every night, waking up to her every morning, complaining about her cosmetics on the bathroom counter and the long strands of hair dangling from his hairbrush. She belonged with him.
But did she know that?
“She said to tell you she’d bring lunch up in a few minutes, so I won’t stay.”
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I wish she’d stop waiting on me. I’m not an invalid.” He hated being catered to. He should be the one serving her breakfast in bed.
Milo stood and clapped Brock on the back. “Relax, dude. She’ll love it almost as much as she loves you.”
He gave his friend a half smirk. “Thanks. How’s Serena feeling?”
“Not bad. The nausea is subsiding. She’s actually happy she’s only puking a few times a week.” Milo chuckled and shook his head. “I’d be on my ass if I puked once. It’s a good thing humanity doesn’t rely on us to birth children.”
“No shit. You wouldn’t last the first week.”
“Nope. And I’m damn proud of that.” He went to the door and turned around. “Call me if you need anything. Really though, you look a lot better. Glad to see you’re getting your strength back.”
Knock, knock, knock
Brock leaped to his feet, the box still in his hand. The door opened and Dani walked in. He shoved his hand behind his back and warmth spread from his head to his toes. The last time he’d blushed with embarrassment was probably the first time they had sex—ten years ago.
“Hey . . .” she said to Milo, but her eyes narrowed on Brock suspiciously. “Uh, I didn’t know you were still here. I can come back.”
“No, no,” they said in unison.
Her scowl deepened.
“I was just leaving.” Milo snuck past Dani and winked at him over her shoulder.
Dani set the tray of food on the bench at the end of the bed and he turned as she approached, keeping the box behind his back. She folded her hands on her hips and shifted her weight.
“You’re acting strange.” A flash of concern darkened her eyes and she jumped toward him. “Are you feeling okay? Is it your head?”
He caught her hands in one of his and lowered them from his face.
She searched his eyes and took a step back.
“Brock Wyler, tell me what’s going on right now.
Oh my god, do you want me to leave? Are you trying to break up with me?
” She ran a nervous hand through her hair and the weight on his tongue lifted.
“Of course not. I just—I don’t want you to feel you have to do all this,” he said, waving at the food.
Her eyebrows fell into a hard line. “Make food? It’s not like it’s hard. And this won’t last forever, you know.”
He sat on the bed and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I just feel . . . emasculated.”
She chuckled and knelt down in front of him.
She hadn’t had time to dye her dark locks, and as much as he liked the look on her, part of him ached to see the old, familiar Dani who’d stolen his heart.
She rubbed her palm over his knee. “The sooner you just suck it up and take it easy, the sooner you’ll heal. Stop pushing yourself.”
“It was a fucking graze, Dani. Not brain surgery.”
“A graze to your skull that almost put you in a coma.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You’ve already improved so much. All you need to work on is balance and stamina now. Let’s have lunch in the backyard. The fresh air will do you good.” She scooped her arm under his elbow but he didn’t budge.
“I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes blazed green fire. “I knew it. Why couldn’t you be honest to begin with?”
Ignoring the seethe in her temper he caught her wrist and yanked her to the mattress. “Because you make me crazy, all right? From the moment I met you when we were kids, I’ve never been the same.”
She arched one eyebrow. “This better be going somewhere good.”
“It is, dammit. Just listen.” He huffed.
Forcing the pent-up breath from his lungs, he traced the lines of her face—lines he’d memorized long ago—then smoothed his thumb under her bottom lip.
“I love you, Dani. I know we’ve had issues in the past, but all that’s over with now.
I want to start a fresh life with you. An honest one.
I want to work every day and come home to you every night.
I want to lie in bed on weekends and stay up late watching that stupid Netflix series you got us hooked on. ”
Tears shone in her eyes and a hiccup of laughter burst through her lips.
He brought his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “When Lafontaine had me strapped on that damn hospital bed and I thought they were going to inject me with that virus, all I could think about was that I’d let you down. It’s a feeling I’ve had more than once over the years and—”
“Let me down? You’ve rescued me twice now.”
He waved that away. “What I’m saying is I want to be by your side. Forever. If you’ll have me.”
Realization laced with uncertainty widened her eyes.
He pulled his hand out from behind his back and popped the lid of the box open with his thumb. “Dani, will you marry me?”
She inhaled sharply and tented her hands over her mouth. Her eyes grew huge, locked on the ring, and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, twisting his heart.
The pain in his chest intensified. “Babe, you need to answer me.”
She snapped her attention to his face. “Yes! Oh my god, yes!” She threw her arms around his neck, sending him barrelling backward on the bed. His head spun and he closed his eyes against the kaleidoscope the ceiling had become.
“Oh shoot, I’m sorry.” She shifted her weight, but he caught her waist in his hands and lifted her up so he could stare at her.
“I’m fine.” He dipped his chin skeptically. “You’re sure you want to marry me? Do you like the ring?” He plucked it out of the box and held the band in his fingertips. She propped her forearm on his chest and held out her left hand.
“It’s incredible!”
He slipped it on and she tilted it so the three-carat diamond caught the light streaming through the window.
Rainbow prisms danced on the wall and she watched, her lips parted in wonderment.
He toyed with the roots of her hair and emotion clogged his throat.
He’d waited years for this moment, and the stupid thing was he hadn’t even realized until now how badly he needed her.
She turned and pressed her lips to his. “I love you so much, Brock. You’ve made me so happy.”
He let his hand wander down her back to the delicious landscape of her ass. As he dipped his hand into the waistband of her pants, she wriggled out of reach.
“Uh-uh. Not until you eat.”
He bobbed his eyebrows. “Good, I’ve been craving the taste of you.” He nipped the side of her neck and she laughed and rolled off the bed.
“I mean it.” She scooped up the tray and dropped it on his legs with intent. “Eat fast.”
He groaned, sat up, and dug into the club sandwich and soup she’d laid out.
“Oh, and maybe we can forget that whole honeymoon in Paris thing.”
He laughed between bites. “Yeah, let’s hit the Bahamas or something.”
“There’s nothing I want more than to be naked on a beach with you.” A salacious grin touched her pretty, kissable mouth. Brock pushed aside the tray and pressed his lips to hers.
No matter what they did, they’d always be together. He’d never let anything screw them up again.
* * *
When undercover FBI agent Rhett Callahan is ordered to kill a thief caught aboard a senator’s yacht, he makes the wrong choice.
He saves her instead.
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