Push

59. He Made a Proposal

He Made a Proposal

Toby

Tiny fish soaps jiggled in the dish on the vanity.

The mini earthquake was my fault. Water pelting from the showerhead muffled the moans, but even with my hand braced on the wall and the other gripping Gwen’s ass, I strained to stop her tumbling to the floor as I thrust my cock into her.

She was slippery with steam and a glisten of sweat.

My pants were tangled around my ankles, and the angle I needed to hit her just right was burning my quads.

The cramped bathroom wasn’t an ideal sex spot—even for a desperate midnight quickie.

Gwen’s fingertips dug into my back. “I’m glad the doctor…said…I’m fine,” she gasped against my shoulder.

Were we finally having this conversation now? “Me too.”

When the doctor had signed Gwen off with “All Clear,” I could finally breathe again. Her phone call had torpedoed through an uneventful coffee with Zach and the foot-stomping, babyccino aficionado, Josie, and blown up my entire world.

There were moments in life when you knew exactly what mattered. My friend had helped me out, and my son had been left in his safe hands. My wife had needed me .

Now, I just needed to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.

Gwen nibbled my neck. “I thought we were going to talk through our problems.”

“Shh.” I stopped her teasing with the type of deep, feverish kiss that made her toes curl. “We’ll make an exception just this once.”

“I have no objections.”

“Good,” I grunted. “Now, hush up, and let me finish taking care of my wife.”

When she was breathless, batting my hand off her clit and begging me for no more, I gently lifted her off the vanity and carried her to the shower.

“My legs are wobbly,” she said, her palm pressing flat on the tiles to steady herself.

Grinning like a fool, I stripped off my clothes to clamber in the shower with her. She accepted only one kiss before wriggling away to twist under the water. Her face scrunched. I glanced down. The scrapes up her leg were still raw and uncovered. I bet that stung like hell.

Shuffling her away from the stream of water, I murmured, “Let me take care of you.” I soaped up the washer, and Gwen watched me with her teeth nibbling her bottom lip when I dropped to my knees to dab soft, smooth strokes up her legs, avoiding all the broken skin.

“You don’t need to do this,” she said quietly.

I smiled up at her. “I do.” I kissed her thigh and got back to work.

After she was clean, I patted her dry, tugged a T-shirt over her head, and carried her back into the bedroom. Her eyes drooping, she slipped under the sheets with no complaints.

“I’m going to grab a glass of water,” I whispered as I tucked the floral comforter up to her chin. “Want one?”

Gwen’s eyes didn’t flutter open. “N…”

“Love you.”

I threw on some clothes, peeked into the bassinet to check on Noah, and skedaddled along the darkened hallway, down the stairs, and straight past the kitchen. The water had been a tiny white lie. I had a different destination. I headed for the shadow sitting in the pergola.

Liam didn’t hear me coming.

If he did, he didn’t react to my footsteps squelching on the wet grass or sounding across the wooden deck. When I flopped onto the outdoor lounge and disappeared into an overstuffed mountain of pillows, he barely spared me a sideways glance.

“Trying out a new brooding spot?” I asked him. “This one’s a bit less moody than your darkened corner.” I motioned at the lights twinkling above his head. “The fairy lights are an especially nice touch.”

Liam’s expression stayed deadpan. I guess he wasn’t feeling the twinkles. “It’s a little cramped upstairs tonight. What—” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat in his fist. “What did the doctor say?”

“She’s fine. Not just a Gwen ‘I’m fine,’ either— actually fine.”

I frowned. Well, she was physically fine.

The doctor had checked her over, done the concussion test, and shone his little light.

She’d curled her lip when he’d asked, “What time is it?” and I’d chuckled when she’d grumbled, “Time for you to leave.” But I’d also noticed how she jumped at every noise, and her hand trembled when she thought I wasn’t looking.

I sighed. “Emotionally, though…” Yeah, that was another story.

Liam’s expression sharpened. “Gwen’s strong.”

“She’s not as tough as she makes out,” I countered. “And you didn’t help the situation by dragging that poor bastard upstairs and dumping him in front of her all banged up. What the hell were you thinking?”

“Spare me your lecture on civilized behavior, Dr. Sullivan.”

“Spare me your condescending bullshit. Gwen ripped herself apart up there. She blames herself for what happened to him.”

Liam tipped back the last of his drink. “That was an unfortunate miscalculation.” Did he mean by Gwen…or him? “But she has no reason to be upset. Romeo didn’t do his job, and he suffered the consequences.”

“He’s really Morelli’s kid?”

“Barely. He’s the runt of that hellspawn litter. The youngest of five sons.”

“If he’s the runt, I’d hate to see the others.”

The corner of Liam’s lips twitched. “Yes, you would.”

“And if the son of the big bad mafia boss is in your employment, what does that make you?”

Liam cocked his head, pausing for a moment before answering. “Involved.” He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table. “Is Gwen settled now? She seemed…”

Rattled. Frightened. Scared. Yeah, she had.

“She’s sleeping. Finally. No thanks to you.

She spent a good hour pacing across the bedroom, trying to puzzle together how and why you’re connected to Morelli and how she missed it.

I eventually got fed up with her overthinking everything and calmed her down by—” Um .

I clamped my mouth shut and darted my gaze to the sprinklers working overtime on the lawn. Telling a story about the orgasmathon in the tiny bathroom probably wasn’t for Liam’s ears.

His eyes turned to murderous slits. “Did you defile my sister in this house?” His hand clenched tighter around the neck of the bottle.

“ Er —” Why was I cringing like a teenager sprung by his parents? “ Defile is a strong word. I prefer to say gentle…and…and… loving .”

“I’d prefer if you said nothing at all,” Liam muttered. “I’m nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation.”

“I’m a married man who’s completely head over heels for my wife. Sex is healthy. It’s part of life.”

“Stop talking.”

“You asked.”

Liam grunted, uncapped the bottle, and poured himself a drink. More than a shot of whiskey went into his glass.

I nodded at the bottle. “Pour me one of those.”

“Won’t somebody please think about the children?” He smirked.

“Oh, har har.”

“What happened to your sobriety?”

“It went out the window at about ten o’clock this morning.”

Liam jerked his head toward the bar fridge. “Mama keeps sodas and water in there.”

“You keeping me on the straight and narrow?”

“Attempting to.”

I never knew what to make of Liam. He shrugged me off, disinterested, but the ghost of a smile curled around his glass when I leaped up and headed for the fridge instead of insisting on him pouring me a shot. He sipped his drink, and his gaze returned to some uninteresting spot in the yard.

I settled back in my mountain of palm tree pillows on the lounge. “So, what’s the plan?” I popped open the can of soda.

“Plan?”

“Yeah.” I waved at him to hurry the conversation along. “Ian.”

“Your brother is your problem.”

“Excusez-moi?”

Blond eyebrows shot up.

“You’re not dodging responsibility here,” I said. “You put my wife in danger, and I want to know how you’re planning to make it right.”

“I was surprised to learn about your father’s indiscretion, but the Sullivan siblings bickering over their ill-gotten gains has nothing to do with me.

You have all the power you need to handle this situation.

Throw some money at your brother, and I’m sure he’ll slither back to whatever sewer he came from. ”

Seriously? I clenched my fist. “Your man fails to keep track of Gwen, and you beat the absolute shit out of him, but Ian attacks her, and suddenly it’s not your problem? Fuck you. You didn’t see her in that bathroom.”

“Stop.”

Oh, hell no. I wasn’t stopping. “She was covered in blood—”

“Stop.”

“—shaking all over—”

“Stop.”

“—bawling her eyes out—”

Liam tore his glare from the distant spot on the grass. “Stop it!” His chest heaved. I’d shaken him. “ Don’t .”

“I know you care about your sister. We’re going to ignore the fact that the way you watch over her is obsessive and kinda deranged for now, but you felt powerless, right? Me too. I can’t go through this again. Not after what happened to her the first time—”

“What first time?” His eyes narrowed on me.

Oh, shit . Me and my big mouth. Gwen would never want me to blurt out her secrets. Uncomfortable under Liam’s ice-blue glare and the twist of my own guilty conscience, I wriggled on the lounge. “There’s, uh…history…” I swallowed. “Between them.”

“What kind of history?”

I could barely get the words out. “Ian…hurt her…b-before.”

“And you let him?” Liam spat at me. His fist clenched, and he rose slowly from the lounge. “You son of a b—”

“No!” I raised my palms, eyes darting everywhere, scoping out an escape route. I was about to get the Romeo treatment. I was a dead man. “I didn’t know!” That was no excuse. “I should have. I’ll never forgive myself for not realizing what he’d do, but Gwen kept it from me… She was… She was…”

“What?”

“Ashamed.”

He stared at me, his eyes hollow and no color left in his pale skin. “Are you saying Ian touched her?”

I nodded. “It didn’t get far.” My stomach churned. Anything she didn’t want was too far. I scrubbed my palm down my face. “She…she fought him off.”

Slowly, Liam lowered back onto the lounge, crossing his ankle on his knee. “You’re lying.” He forced a smile, but it made me feel even more uneasy. “She didn’t mention it. There’s no police report. I’d know.”

“You don’t know shit. Gwen didn’t tell a soul when it happened. Not me. Not Marnie. She sure as hell didn’t go to the police to make a fucking report . She planned on taking that secret to the grave.”

“Gwen is the venerable champion of justice,” Liam said the words with a strange sort of pride.

“Reckless but honorable. I’ve seen her stand up to bullies twice her size.

She took on a crime syndicate and didn’t blink when they threatened her in the courtroom.

She would never let a man get away with—”

“She did!” I dropped my head, fingers raking through my hair.

I couldn’t breathe. The arrow Gwen had shot at me months ago landed squarely back in the middle of my chest, and it hurt .

“My girl’s tough, and, yeah, she’ll fight for what’s right, but she’s only human, Liam.

You put her on this pedestal, and shit, so do I sometimes, but…

She’s always blamed herself for what happened to her that morning.

Always . You have no idea what it’s like to find out that I didn’t protect her from him.

I let him in my house…around her…around my kid…

I can’t sit around waiting for him to do it again.

I won’t .” I swallowed down my fear and braced my hands on my knees.

“That’s the reason I’m out here. I need your help. ”

“As whimsical as I am, I can’t change the past.”

“No, but you have connections to—” I gulped another breath. “You know people. The type of people who make problems go away.” There it was, as subtle as a sledgehammer.

Liam’s lips thinned. “And you’re a good man who should talk to the police to make his problems go away.”

“The police?” I scoffed a bitter laugh. “You know where talking to the police has gotten me? Nowhere. It can take years to investigate and bring a case to court. And what’s going to happen to Ian?

He’ll probably get a couple of years… And that’s assuming his lawyers don’t get him off completely. Then what? He comes after Gwen.”

“He won’t hurt her.”

“Like he didn’t hurt her today?”

Liam flinched.

“Exactly,” I said. “I want the guy. The one you said was going after my dad. The one Gwen says doesn’t exist. I’ve got money—”

“Stop.”

I shook my head. “I need to do something. Even if Ian gets the money, even if he goes to jail, my gut is telling me he won’t stop. He wants Gwen. I can’t risk her or my son like that.”

Liam rose. I thought he’d storm back to the house, but he closed the distance, his shadow looming to block out the twinkle of the lights above us.

“Toby.” Warily, he sank on the lounge beside me.

“What happened to Gwen today was unforgivable, and there will be consequences, but you don’t know what you’re asking. ”

“I’m not the fucking moron everyone thinks I am,” I bit back. “I know exactly what I’m asking. I want to pay the Widowmaker to get rid of Ian. Permanently .”

Liam sighed. “This isn’t the answer. You think the hopeless weight you’re carrying on your shoulders will lift because Gwen will be safe, but that’s not how it works.

That worry disappears, but a different weight replaces it, one you can’t escape.

The reality of taking a life will crush down on you until you’re lost in a place so dark you won’t recognize you were ever a man at all. ”

“And what’s the feeling I have to live with if something happens to Gwen? The feeling of knowing I could’ve stopped it?”

Liam’s eyes closed. That wasn’t a feeling he was ready to face, either.

“That kind of pain would be unbearable.” He took a breath, collected himself, and then leveled his gaze on me.

“You can’t make decisions when you feel like this.

This is too new… Too raw… Acting now is when mistakes are made.

You make errors of judgment…errors of character . ”

“You won’t help me.” It wasn’t a question. I knew his answer.

Liam shook his head. “Exhaust every other option first—the ones you can live with when your son stands eye-to-eye in front of you. Let Gwen be your conscience. Ask her what she wants.” He smiled. “But perhaps leave out the murdering part.”

“We both know what the venerable champion of justice is going to say,” I grumbled.

“We do.” Liam’s hand briefly clasped my shoulder before he stood up to retreat to his brooding corner. “Toby, you’ve never been like your father. Don’t lose your way now because you’re afraid.”