Page 169 of Save Me

“And no one or nothing will ever change that. But sometimes you have to let her fall or fly on her own.” She pins me with a glare. “Without threatening to kill the person who hurt her.”

“It wasn’t a threat,” I reply, meeting her stare for stare in the eyes that always cause my heartbeat to quicken. “Threats are for liars. I would kill him.”

She shakes her head. “But you’ll hurt her in the process. Is that what you want?”

She always knows what to say, to send the arrow straight to my heart.

I turn my head and stare at nothing.

“Did you see her face?” I ask, looking at my wife again.

She nods. “I did.”

I push out a heavy breath. “She’s going to marry him.”

“Probably,” Patience agrees. We both know there’s probably nothing about it. “Just like that night we first met him, he can’t take his eyes off her.”

I saw that, too.

“I still don’t like the fucker,” I grunt.

Patience lets out a laugh while wrapping her arms around me. The tightness in my chest lessens.

My wife lays her head on my chest, and for the first time since I saw Kennedy crying, my anger subsides.

I grunt because Dae Kim isn’t done winning me over, yet. If he wants to marry my daughter, there’s one thing left he has to prove.

I sigh. “I still have Stasi.”

Patience’s head pops up, and she gives me a confused look before her eyes narrow.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I tell her. “I have a signed contract from Anastasia that says she’ll never get married and leave us.”

She sucks her teeth. “You do remember she was seven when she wrote that, don’t you?”

I wave her off with one hand while keeping my other arm around her waist. “Doesn’t matter. It’s legally binding. I have lawyers who’ll see that it’s upheld.”

“You’re fucking insane,” she gripes. “My poor babies.”

I pin her with a look, but the front door opens.

“Anyone home?” Stasi, our youngest, yells as soon as she enters. It’s a normal ritual for her.

She spent the night at a friend’s and has no idea what happened with Kennedy, so we choose to keep it that way for the time being.

“Hi, baby.” Patience pulls out of my hold to meet our seventeen-year-old at the entranceway.

“Hey, Mommy. Daddy, you’re home today?” she asks, kicking off her shoes while her hair, with bright pink highlights, whips around as she moves.

“I am.” I pull her into my arms. “And you’re never leaving the house again.”

“What?”

“Aaron!”

They say in unison. I ignore them and hold onto my youngest baby girl.

“What did I do?” she asks, her words coming out muffled since I have her face pressed against my chest.

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