Chapter 22 #3
Honestly, if this were anyone else, I’d be shoveling in the popcorn and enjoying the show. Amused as hell. But right now, I wasn’t amused. My heart was caged in my throat and struggling to beat as I waited on pins and needles for his response. For forgiveness.
Something I never thought I’d ever want or ask for.
“You got me creamer?” Rett asked, staring down at the two boxes.
“Mm.” I agreed and lifted the one in my right hand. “Hazelnut because that seems to be your go-to,” I explained, then held up my left hand. “And vanilla caramel because I know you don’t even like the hazelnut, and I wanted you to have something bougie.”
If coffee creamer could even be bougie.
This is what my life had become.
“There’s fifty in each box,” he said, still staring. But then his attention shifted, pinning me in place and making me think, Life has never been better.
“You got me fifty hugs.”
Yep. I was down bad. Bad. That cotton candy that made up my heart? It was princess pink.
“I can get you more.” I started, realizing fifty was nowhere near enough.
He plowed into me, the air knocked from my lungs. He squeezed hard, molding himself around me while burying his face in my chest. “Thank you, Hiro. Thank you so much.”
Something inside me loosened, no longer on pins and needles.
Before I could do much, he grabbed both boxes and hugged them into his chest with luminous eyes. “I’ve never had vanilla caramel before. That’s the fancy kind.”
“Only the best for you, baby.”
It had come to my attention that I was going to continue calling him by the B-word.
A word I’d totally refused to use until now.
Calling someone baby made me vulnerable and gave the recipient a certain type of power.
In case you hadn’t noticed, I was a total powermonger.
Must have all the power at all times. Giving up even a little in my world was basically committing suicide.
Yet here I was, babying like I’d never babied before. As if “Pip” wasn’t bad enough. Pretty sure I’d heard “kitten” slip out earlier too.
Hell. I might as well start writing poetry on my notes app.
What was even worse? It didn’t feel as dire as I knew it could be. In that moment, I totally understood why Kieran told me if he was wrong about Haz, I would have to put him down.
And he didn’t mean for a nap.
Our world was ride-or-die. Trust and loyalty were premium, more valuable than any weapon.
That was why, for the last ten years, there were only the two of us.
It was why I was in this life at all. Letting in someone else made me vulnerable and, in extension, would make Kieran vulnerable too.
It was why he was so concerned about Rett being an addict.
Turned out Kieran’s instincts were right about Haz.
But what if mine weren’t right about Rett?
And if they were right, that meant I’d be dragging someone soft and innocent into this life. A life where the only exit was death.
So let me sum this up. If I was right, death for Rett. If I was wrong, death for me.
The only solution was to walk away. Which I did. It damn near killed me, but I’d done it.
I wasn’t sure I could do it again.
“I’m sick.”
The two words shattered everything. All my internal conflict lay scattered around me in shards.
My head snapped up, eyes locking onto his pale, wary face.
“What?” I asked, voice gravelly.
“That’s why I asked Tommy for those pills.”
A tornado of thoughts and emotions sent me whirling. Of everything he could have said, this was the last thing I expected. I shook my head, trying to clear it even a little. “You mean like last time? You had a fever and some kinda flu.”
I’d taken care of him then, and I could do it now.
“Yes—I mean, no.” He shook his head.
“Which is it?” I asked, growing impatient.
“I’m sure that’s why I was sick last time. I mean, I’d been shoveling all that snow, and I was rundown—”
“What snow?” I burst out. I didn’t know about any snow.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t!” I said, grasping him by the arms to give him a little shake. Between us, the boxes of creamer rattled. “Everything about you matters.”
His body sort of slumped like a battery draining right in my hands.
“C’mon,” I murmured, picking him up. “Put that on the counter.”
“No way!” he argued, hugging the boxes against his chest.
Fucking creamer.
I went back to the couch and sat down with him in my lap, his sock-covered feet falling onto the cushion beside us.
“It’s the kind of sick that doesn’t get better. It’s chronic.”
My heart clenched. It clenched so hard I think it cracked.
I gathered him close, as if I could heal whatever ailed him with my strong will alone. “I don’t care,” I told him—hell, the entire universe. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it,” I swore. I’ll deal with it. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m with you now. I’m all in.”
He pulled back enough that I could see the disbelief and hope warring deep in his silvery eyes. “What?”
“You’re mine.” I claimed him. “I’m never letting you go.”
Decision made. Conflict resolved. Consequences pending…
If loving him ended up killing me, I’d at least make sure he survived.