Chapter Nine #2
“I’m talking actual sleep here, Lavender. Not sitting in the lobby staring at your phones.” She gestured to the duffel. “Fresh clothes for both of you. Toothbrushes. Deodorant. Decent shampoo, not that hotel crap.”
Jag moved farther into the room, taking up position in the chair Knight had vacated. “Go,” he said, the single word carrying enough authority that I found myself reaching for my purse.
Knight moved to Brynn’s bedside, his size at odds with how gently he kissed her forehead. His fingers brushed her blue hair back from her face, lingering on her cheek. “We won’t be far, baby girl,” he whispered. “Ada and Jag are gonna keep you company for a bit.”
I stepped up beside him, my heart breaking all over again at how small she looked in that bed. Eleven years old and already fighting battles she shouldn’t have to. I leaned down, pressing my lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her shampoo beneath the hospital smell.
“I love you too, baby,” I whispered. “Sleep tight. We’ll be here in the morning.”
Brynn didn’t stir. They’d given her pain meds for the headache, and the medication kept her under. For once, I was grateful. If she’d opened those eyes, I wouldn’t have been able to walk out the door.
I straightened, finding Knight’s hand with mine, our fingers intertwining without conscious thought. Ada handed him the duffel, then pressed a keycard into my palm.
“Got you set up at the Ronald McDonald house,” she said. “Less than a block from here. You can walk and not have to worry about parking. It’ll be much faster if there were to be something urgent.”
The thoughtfulness of that detail nearly undid me. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“We’ll be here at six in the morning.” Knight gave his sister a weary nod as we moved toward the door.
“Now go. She’s not alone.” Ada shooed us out the door gently. “We’ve got her.”
As we stepped into the hallway, Knight’s arm slipped around my shoulders, steadying me.
The weight of his familiar touch anchored me as we walked toward the elevator.
When we stood in front of the doors, waiting, I let my head rest briefly against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
“She’ll be OK,” he murmured, though I couldn’t tell which of us he was trying to convince.
“I know,” I lied, because sometimes pretending to believe was the only way forward. Deep down, maybe I did know. Ada had always been a good person. I’d hated the separation from her nearly as much as I had from Rhys.
The elevator doors slid open and we stepped inside, watching Brynn’s room disappear from view. Ada and the doctor were right. We both needed sleep. With the biggest part of the battle ahead of us, we needed to take this brief reprieve and recharge.
The house was literally a two-minute walk.
Our room door clicked shut behind us, sealing out the outside world if only for a little while.
I dropped my purse on the desk chair, taking in our temporary sanctuary.
The king bed with a slightly rumpled comforter, threadbare carpet worn thin in paths to the bathroom and door, spoke of harried, worried parents just trying like hell to make it through whatever tragic event caused them to be here.
Out the window I could see the hospital across the divided four-lane road separating us.
Knight set the duffel on the bed, his movements heavy with fatigue. “You should shower first,” Knight said, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Might help you relax so you can sleep.”
I nodded, taking the clothes he offered, our fingers brushing.
The small contact sent electricity up my arm, a reminder that beneath fear and exhaustion, other feelings still existed.
I walked to the bathroom door, hand on the knob, then stopped.
The thought of being alone with my thoughts, even for fifteen minutes, pressed against my chest like a weight.
I turned back to Knight, words forming before I fully registered the decision to speak them. “Join me?” The request came out barely above a whisper, vulnerability cracking my voice.
Knight went still, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim room.
For a heartbeat, I feared I’d misunderstood what had been building between us these past weeks, the touches that lingered longer each time, the way his gaze followed me when he thought I wouldn’t notice.
Even our discussions had really left no room for doubt where we’d been heading. At least, that’s what I thought.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice dropping to match mine.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak again. He crossed the room slowly, as if giving me time to change my mind, until he stood close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“Lavender…” My name sounded like a prayer on his lips. “I don’t expect anything. We’re both exhausted.”
“I know.” I reached for his hand, finding it in the shadows. “I just… I don’t want to be alone right now. And I don’t think you do either.”
His fingers tightened around mine, and he nodded once, a jerky motion that revealed more vulnerability than words could have. I pushed the bathroom door open, and we stepped inside together.
The bathroom had a dimmer on the main light and a timed heating fan in front of the shower. I turned both on, dimming the lights to a comfortable level.
I turned to face Knight. All his many tattoos stood out starkly against his skin.
We moved with awkward care around each other, the small space forcing proximity we hadn’t shared in almost twelve years.
In my head the situation felt awkward, but my heart was at peace for the first time since he’d left me.
I turned on the shower, letting steam fill the room while we undressed with our backs to each other, as if we were strangers instead of former lovers who’d created a child together. The rustle of clothing hitting tile sounded unnaturally loud.
When I finally stepped under the spray, Knight followed, making the shower stall feel impossibly small with his large form so intimately close.
The spray fell in a gentle rain from a large, round head in the center of the shower space.
Hot water cascaded over us, washing away days of sweat and grime.
For a moment, we simply stood there, letting the heat soak into our tired muscles, the white noise of falling water cocooning us from the world outside.
I should have kept my profile to Knight with my arm over my breasts or something, but what would have been the point?
He’d seen everything I had. I’d seen him.
Granted, I wanted to explore his ink and see exactly how much of his body was tattooed, but why be coy at this point in our relationship?
“Here,” Knight said, reaching for the bottle of shampoo I’d grabbed from the duffel Ada had supplied. “Let me.”
He met my gaze boldly, seeming to will me to relax and let this happen.
I knew he meant what he said about not expecting us to do anything other than wash each other, even if I might have lamented that fact.
I desperately wanted to let him pull me into his arms and just hold me skin to skin.
Not necessarily in a sexual way, but I needed the intimacy.
With him. I needed to know there was nothing separating us.
I knew I was thinking physically, but I thought metaphorical distance could sometimes be worse than physical.
I stepped closer, closing my eyes and ducking under the spray and into his arms. He looped one arm around my back to hold me close and used his other hand to smooth the shampoo over my hair.
With a sigh, he let go of me to work the lather through my hair.
Gentle pressure from his fingertips massaged my scalp with a tenderness that made my eyes sting.
I leaned into his touch, letting him support my weight as he rinsed the suds away.
“Your turn,” I murmured, taking the soap.
I worked it between my palms before reaching for his chest, my hands sliding over the inked skin, relearning the contours that had changed with time and prison.
New muscles, new scars, tattoos on nearly every inch of his skin, including his face.
But underneath, he was the same man I’d loved nearly all my life.
“I missed you,” he said, so quietly I almost lost it beneath the sound of the shower. “Every fucking day.”
I looked up, water streaming down my face, and found his eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that knocked the breath from my lungs. Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, he raised one hand to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away a drop of water. Or perhaps it was a tear.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
Instead of answering, I rose on tiptoes, pressing my lips to his. The first contact was hesitant, a question rather than a demand. His arms tightened around me, drawing me closer as the kiss deepened, years of separation dissolved by the press of his mouth against mine.
Heat bloomed low in my belly, a hunger I’d denied for so long I’d almost forgotten it existed. My hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, feeling the power contained in his frame. His kiss grew more insistent, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth with a groan that vibrated through his chest.
He backed me against the shower wall, the cool tile a shock against my heated skin. His hands mapped my body, rediscovering curves that had changed with motherhood, lingering over the stretch marks on my stomach with reverence rather than distaste.
“Christ, Lavender,” he breathed against my neck, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”
I pulled his face back to mine, drinking him in as the water continued to pour over us. His hands slid lower, lifting me slightly, and I wrapped one leg around his waist, seeking closer contact, needing to brush my clit over his cock.
“Bed,” I gasped against his mouth. “Now.”