Chapter 42 #2
The silence stretches between us, and Ben whines, reminding us he’s still here.
“You’re right. You’re always right. I was afraid of losing you. I still am. What if you woke up one day and realized you married a monster?”
“I don’t want to marry you.”
Something breaks in his expression. “I-I understand.”
The stammer is new. When did that happen?
But this grovelling rubbish is starting to annoy me.
I just want to go inside, make mince pies, eat them hot with cream, and help Laine decorate her tree.
I don’t want to sit here anymore breathing in Troy’s expensive cologne because the more I do, the more my resolve cracks and the more I want to taste him instead.
“No, you don’t understand.” I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
“I don’t want to marry you because marriage is a contract, and I’m sick of those.
It’s not like it will stop you from leaving me again the next time you decide I need protecting from your darkness or whatever excuse you come up with in the future. ”
“Sage…are you saying there will be a future?” He holds his breath, making me not want to stamp out his light this close to Christmas.
“Maybe, if you choose me every day, not just once at an altar, or in a barber chair. I need to know that when things get bad, you won’t disappear or push me away. I have enough shit to deal with my lost memories. What if I wake up one day and you’re gone, and I can’t tell if you were real or not?”
He’s looking at me with an intensity that would make me step back. But I can’t in this luxury leather heated seat that smells of cherries.
“I’m real,” he says quietly, taking my hand. I stiffen at first because his hands are freezing, but then his skin warms as it touches mine. “And I’ll always be here, Sage.”
“Sure.” Because what else do you say to that?
He reaches into his coat, pulls out an envelope, and offers it to me. “Starting with this. I had these drawn up for you a few weeks ago.”
At first, I hesitate in case it’s another bloody letter, but inside are legal documents. It’s a deed transfer for Grayfleet. I blink at it, trying to understand the legalese.
“It’s yours. The house, the land, everything. I’m signing it over to you.”
I offer it back. “No. I can’t take this. This is your family’s ancestral estate.”
He shrugs. “I don’t want it. It’s yours to decide what to do with it; sell it, burn it to the ground, do whatever. Renovate it and call it home if you want.”
“Troy, this is your home—”
“You’re my home. Grayfleet is just an ugly building that needs a total gut job. You’re what matters, nothing else.”
I look down at the papers, my breath held, and then I let it out, deciding to choose. “And your sister won’t be upset about this?”
“She lives in France. Hates Grayfleet with a passion. Ben’s yours too,” Troy adds.
“He’s been yours since you left, really.
Poor sod hasn’t eaten properly. He lies by the door waiting for you to come back.
” His lips crack a smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen on him since before the wedding.
“He’s loyal, good company, and he’ll protect you better than I ever could. I’ll teach you his commands.”
I raise a brow. “You’re giving me your hunting dog.”
“I’m giving you anything to keep you safe.”
The snow is falling harder now, accumulating on the car so much that I feel like I’m lost under a snowdrift with Troy, which is good because Laine will be watching out the window, and I really don’t want her to see me do this.
I lean over and kiss him. His lips are warm, and his tongue delves softly inside, making me shudder as his stubble razes hard over my skin. He smells of coffee and the elements, and that woodsy cologne that wraps around my soul like a Band-Aid whenever I inhale deeply.
Ben has finally had enough and clambers between the seats, hurling himself heavily onto my lap, breaking us apart.
“Ben! You fucking cock block.” Troy grumps at first, but then I laugh, and he laughs.
Ben looks as if to say, What?
“I guess he’s coming with me?”
Troy grins at me. “Little fucker.” He gives his dog’s head a stroke and then looks at me, serious all of a sudden.
“Look, I’m not asking you to marry me. Hell, I’m not asking you to come back to Grayfleet, or to forgive me, yet.
I know I don’t deserve that. I’m just asking for the chance to prove I can be trusted for as long as you’ll let me. ”
I bite my lips. “And if I say no?” I might change my mind. Being here with Troy, hidden away from the rest of the world, is one thing. But I have to get back to reality at some point.
“I’ll accept it.” Pain flashes across his face. “And leave you in peace. However, I’ll always be here if you ever need a hitman.”
I shoot him a look.
He cracks another smile. “Just joking, I mean, if you need help with any legal or business issues with your family, or if you need protection. I’ll be there for anything you need, no strings attached. None.”
I stare at him. It’s been weeks, and I’ve come to terms with how dangerous, broken, and complicated he is.
But it’s not lost on me that this incredibly sexy billionaire has been sitting outside Laine’s house for the last twelve days, and has just given me his house and his dog, all without asking for anything back.
“You’re an idiot,” I say finally.
“I know.” He winks, and it’s cute, and I die inside a little then.
“Come on, inside before Ben breaks my legs. I have to explain to Laine why you let that happen.”
Hope flickers in his eyes. “Sage, you don’t have to…”
“I’m not saying I forgive you. It’s Christmas soon, and you’re going to stay in Laine’s guest room, where I can keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not working over the holidays. And then you’re going to prove every single thing you just said.”
“Right,” he says quietly.
He gets out and goes around the car. When he opens the door, Ben bounds out, but I don’t move. I still have more to say, it seems.
“Troy?” I wait until he meets my eyes. “If you push me away again…we’re done. No more secrets. No more lies. I don’t want you deciding things for me. We’re partners like we used to be, or we’re nothing.”
I hold out my hand, like a handshake. After a moment, he takes my hand and shakes it.
Deal done.
“Partners.” His fingers are ice-cold, but they warm me up when he tightens them over me. Then pulls me to him, into his arms, and he kisses me again, more demanding this time. And my tummy does a flip.
And then whispers, “As long as that means, you’re mine, little finch,” in my ear, heating the curve of my neck and everything else below.
When I shiver, and not from the cold, he smirks, and my core does a slight clench, reminding me I’m not dead from the waist down, far from it.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
We grab the box off the bench as we walk past, and I pull open the massive door and lead him inside, out of the cold and into my heart. Ben follows.
Somewhere in the warmth of Laine and Jaxon’s glass mansion, with Troy’s hand still in mine and Mercy’s weight in my pocket, Ben enthusiastically peeing on the Christmas tree we just finished decorating...
I feel happy. Maybe, I somehow skipped bargaining, depression, and acceptance, and went straight to the end.
But when he calls me his little finch, like I’m delicate, something to protect in a cage. I remember, I’m his little blade, too, who walked into darkness and didn’t flinch.
Maybe now I can be both.