Chapter 8 — Chuck #2
I strip off my cut and hang it on the hook behind the door. Then my shirt, my jeans, my boots. Everything goes on the floor and I'll deal with washing blood out later. Right now I just need clean.
She undresses too and we step into the shower together. The water is hot and I stand under the spray watching red swirl down the drain. Blood and dirt and gunpowder residue and violence washing away.
Isla steps into the spray and the water hits her face. She flinches hard, eyes going wide. I see it immediately, she's back there, that man's hand raised.
"Hey." I turn her toward me, blocking the direct spray. "You're safe. I've got you."
She's shaking. "I'm sorry, I just—"
"Don't apologize. You were attacked twelve hours ago." I cup her face. "It's gonna take time."
She nods against my hands, breathing deliberately until the panic passes.
Isla takes the soap and starts washing my back. Her hands are gentle and thorough, working over my shoulders, down my spine, cautious around the scars. I close my eyes and let her take care of me because I'm too tired to do it myself.
"Turn around," she says quietly.
I do. She soaps my chest, my arms, my hands. When she gets to my knuckles she's extra careful, barely touching, just cleaning the blood away. The tenderness of it breaks something in my chest.
"I was terrified you wouldn't come back," she says, not looking up from my hands. "All morning I kept thinking about what I'd do if something went wrong. If you didn't come back. If the last time I saw you was walking out that door at dawn."
"But I did come back."
"I know." She finally looks up and the tears she was holding back earlier are falling now, mixing with shower water.
"But you might not next time. This life, this world, there's always going to be danger.
Always going to be someone who might hurt you.
And I don't know if I'm strong enough to live with that fear every time you ride out. "
I cup her face and make her look at me. "You are. You're stronger than you think."
"How do you know?"
"Because you didn't run last night when you had every reason to.
Because you waited at the clubhouse this morning instead of leaving like you probably should have.
Because you're standing here now asking the hard questions instead of pretending they don't exist." I pause.
"That's strength, Isla. Real strength. Not the absence of fear, just the willingness to choose despite it. "
She's quiet for a moment. Then she says, "I'm not leaving for Millbrook."
My chest tightens. "What?"
"I'm not leaving. I'm staying in Bloomfield." She says it clear and certain. "I don't know what that means for my work, for my life, for anything past today. But I know I'm not driving away tomorrow morning and wondering what could've happened if I'd stayed."
I kiss her then, hard and desperate, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. She kisses me back just as hard, her hands fisting in my hair, her body pressed against mine.
The kiss breaks and we're both breathing fast. Water pours over us and the bathroom is thick with steam and I can feel her everywhere.
"I need you," I say against her mouth.
"Then take me."
I turn off the water and we barely make it to the bedroom. Towels forgotten, dripping wet, falling onto the bed together. My body covers hers and her legs wrap around my hips and I push inside in one long thrust that has both of us gasping.
This is different than before. More desperate. More claiming. We're both here, both alive, both choosing this despite everything. Every thrust is confirmation. Every gasp and moan is proof.
I go hard and fast because gentle isn't what either of us needs right now. She meets me with equal intensity, nails digging into my back hard enough to leave marks, her hips rolling up to take me deeper.
"Chuck," she gasps. "Oh god, Chuck."
I shift the angle and hit deeper and she cries out. Her head falls back and I lower my mouth to her throat, feel her pulse racing under my lips. She's so alive. So present. So here.
The orgasm builds fast and brutal. I can feel her tightening around me, getting close. My hand slides between us and finds her clit, presses hard circles.
"Come on, darlin'. Let me feel it."
She breaks apart with a cry that's my name and something else. The sensation of her coming around me drags my own orgasm out and I follow her over, groaning into her shoulder, hips stuttering.
We collapse together breathing like we ran miles.
For a while we just lie there. My weight on her, her hands in my hair, both of us trying to come down. Eventually I shift to lie beside her and pull her into my chest.
"I love you," I say into her hair.
She goes completely still. Then lifts her head to look at me. "What?"
"I love you. I know it's fast. I know it doesn't make sense. But I love you and I needed to say it before you decided anything permanent."
Her eyes are wide. "Chuck—"
"You don't have to say it back. I'm not asking you to. Just needed you to know." I touch her face. "Three days ago, I met you at a bar and thought we'd have one night. Now you're the first person I've wanted to stay for in twenty-five years. That's not nothing. That's everything."
She's quiet for a long moment and I can see her processing, working through it. Then she says, "I love you too."
My chest does something. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She smiles despite the split lip. "I don't know how it happened so fast or why it feels this certain when we barely know each other. But I love you. And I'm staying. And we're going to figure out what that looks like together."
I pull her close and kiss her again. Softer this time, thorough, tasting her and the decision and everything it means.
When we break apart she says, "What happens now?"
"Now we sleep. Then we wake up and figure out logistics. Your work, my work, where you'll live, all of it. But right now, I just want to hold you and know you're safe."
"Okay."
We pull the sheet over us, and she curls into my side like she was made for the space. My hand rests on her hip, and I think about how three days ago this was empty and now it's full and I don't know how I got here but I'm grateful anyway.
"Chuck?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for coming back."
"Always will, darlin'. Long as you're here waiting, I'll always come back."
She presses her face against my chest and her breathing evens out within minutes. Exhaustion finally catching up.
I lie there awake a while longer, listening to her breathe, feeling her heartbeat against my ribs. Crane is dead. Marrow is gone. The war is over
And somehow in the middle of ending all that, I found something worth staying for.
I close my eyes and let myself drift, knowing when I wake up, she'll still be here.
Tomorrow we'll figure out the details. How she tells her nonprofit she's establishing a home base in Bloomfield.
How we find a place that's actually ours instead of my temporary rental.
How we build a life from three days of certainty and violence and love that doesn't make sense but is real anyway.
But right now, this is enough.
Her in my arms. Both of us alive. Both of us choosing this.
The rest we'll figure out as we go.