Chapter 12 Collins #3
I tilt his head upward with a finger beneath his chin.
Tracing the sharp line of the tattoo that runs along the underside of his jaw, I offer him a smile when his gaze meets mine again.
“Thank you for your apology,” I say, pressing up and onto my toes to peck his lips.
“I forgive you. Today and every day. Just be honest with me, alright?”
He sighs in relief with a nod, and his shoulders slump as a breath he was holding whooshes from his lungs.
As if he’d been desperate to hear those exact words come from my mouth.
I’d tackle him and wrap myself around him if I wasn’t starting to feel the ache and sting of each of my wounds.
What it doesn’t do, is stop the giddy laughter from bubbling up, and he doesn’t stop me when I lift up on the balls of my feet to press my lips against his once more.
God, it feels so good to kiss him. My heart ached and yearned to see him again, that Riley and I would be rescued in time, so that we might have any kind of chance at a long, beautiful life together.
They’re my everything, and I had felt so hollow when facing the possibility that they might have been taken from me, or that I’d never see either of them again.
Everything still feels so surreal, and I’m still terrified that I’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.
But Creed has been so good about grounding me when I start to drift that it keeps the little spark of hope lit within me.
Creed reluctantly pulls away when the knock sounds behind us. I startle because it’s right against the bathroom door and a deep rumbling voice speaks through the thick wood. “Creed? I’ve got your bag, Son. I’ll leave it right outside the door for ya.”
“Thanks,” Creed calls back, clearing his throat.
“Son?” I rasp, one eyebrow lifted in question.
He nods, cracking the door just wide enough to grab the duffle bag before pulling it closed again.
“That’s surprise number two.” What an odd time to meet his dad.
The thought quickly disintegrates when Creed crouches down in his towel, his beautiful cock nearly poking through the opening; heat immediately flooding in and I feel it creeping up my chest, over my neck, and spreading across my face.
And he’s all mine.
A soundless squeal tries so hard to sound from my chest, and my knees nearly buckle when he pulls out my favorite t-shirt that I’d stolen from Riley’s wardrobe months ago.
It’s a black, oversized vintage band tee that I loved wearing as a dress.
He hands it to me, and I can’t stop the tears from falling when I hold it to my nose, inhaling the warm, clean scent that is all Riley.
“I thought you’d love wearing these better than the hospital gowns,” he says, pulling his own change of dry clothes on.
“So much better.” I smile as he takes the shirt from my hands and gingerly helps me put it on, careful not to snag my stitches or my IV. The moment my head pops through the top, Creed is there to place a quick peck against my lips. “Thank you, love.”
I freeze, rolling my lips in and slamming my eyes shut as my face heats, probably turning an even deeper shade of red because what the fuck?
I didn’t mean to let that nickname slip, and even though my feelings for Creed are pretty clear, those words haven’t been spoken yet, and I know he told me I should wait until the three of us were home, but I’m still a little more than mortified.
Creed is painfully quiet, so I bravely crack an eyelid open to gauge his reaction.
What I see has my heart fluttering in my chest. His face is completely alight with a contented, goofy, lopsided smile.
“I really, like the sound of that, Stardust.” He gently taps his forehead against mine, then kisses the tip of my nose.
“I definitely wouldn’t mind hearing it more often. ”
And just like that, Creed makes everything better.
He helps me to slip on the fuzziest slippers I’ve ever seen, complete with shoe soles on the bottom. “We can’t have you slipping, twinkle toes.” he says as he winks at me, and I wiggle said toes inside the slippers when I step into them.
He helps me to brush through my hair until it’s free of knots and tangles before kissing the top of my head and holding my hand as he opens the bathroom door.
The curtain is drawn, cutting off the view of his father, whose legs are the only visible part of him at the moment where he stands by the door.
I notice that the nurse, Chrissy, is back with several gauze bandages set up on the tray to redress my wounds.
My face heats all over again when she eyes me suspiciously as Creed helps me into the freshly made bed.
After my screaming spell, I’m physically incapable of making loud sounds again, so I don’t think she heard me when Creed had… helped me earlier.
She goes over the daily routine of healthcare questions and tells me she’ll get in contact with speech to assess me again.
I’m looked over as she rebandages some of my wounds, and she doesn’t ask questions when I purposely look away while she rewraps my shoulder.
I know what I’ll find when I look, but right now, I refuse to face the result of what he did to me.
I watch as Creed disappears behind the curtain for a moment to talk to who I’m assuming is his dad.
Anxiety rushes in. Rationality tells me that he’s just on the other side of the curtain, but it doesn’t feel that way when I don’t have my eyes on him.
I can feel my skin crawling with creeping fear because not having him near leaves room for the dissociation to take over.
For the illusion to fade and the chance that I’ll wake up in that cold, dark room again.
I don’t breathe again until he reappears, pulling up the chair next to my bed and lacing his fingers through mine as he places a soft kiss to each of my fingertips.
It seems to be the growing love language between us.
Kisses.
They’re grounding and it’s becoming quite the addiction.
“Please use the call light if you need assistance with anything, Collins,” Chrissy says, pulling my attention back to her momentarily. She smiles, but I can see the frustration brewing in her demeanor. “That’s what I’m here for. Okay?”
I nod, feeling a little knot of guilt work its way into my stomach knowing I’ve caused her unneeded stress and trouble. It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but she turns to leave the room before I can whisper a single word.
“You don’t owe her a damn thing, baby,” Creed reads my mind as he murmurs against my fingertips, brushing them across his lips almost absentmindedly.
After a beat, he straightens and crosses the room once more, but instead of disappearing, he grabs the curtain and looks back to me with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “You ready to meet my dad, Stardust?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I guess so.”
My jaw hits the floor when a familiar face steps around the curtain that Creed holds open.
I’d never met Creed’s father, even as a kid.
But taking in the man standing before me, everything from a single night two years ago starts to make sense.
The dark hair, the same demeanor and stature.
It’s like I’m staring at an older, slightly larger version of Creed, except with darker eyes.
He offers me a small smile, the same one I remember from the last time I saw him two years ago, and I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry, or stare at him in utter disbelief.
Maybe all three. He is Creed’s dad? The impossibility of it has me dumbfounded, yet the truth is staring me in the face. Literally.
“Oh. My—“ Nothing, I mean nothing could’ve prepared me for this. “…Garrick?”
“Hey there, Sunshine.”