Page 78 of Lace 'em Up

And it’s one that I continue to cling to as I slip my arms beneath Rory’s lush body, cradle her against my chest, and bring her upstairs. I don’t miss the open bottle of wine I left her, or the glass with dredges of the white next to it. I don’t miss her laptop on the coffee table, her shoes tucked beneath. I don’t miss that she’s made herself at home, nor the relief that floods through me at the thought.

Instead, I just pretend that I’m holding her carefully because she’s fragile and recovering, because she needs to be protected at all costs.

Not because she’s precious to me.

Even though?—

“No,” I mutter, and the word paired with my movements in lifting her from the sofa have her brows drawing together in an adorable frown, her head rolling slightly from side to side on my arm.

Shit.

But before I can somehow find a way to soothe her back to sleep, her lids peel back, sleepy green eyes coming to mine.

I tense, thinking about what Phillip did, thinking that it might be disorienting or scary to wake up with a big brute of a man holding her, manhandling her, manipulating her body without her permission.

“King,” she murmurs before I can apologize, can set her onto her feet.

Crack!

I almost wince as a sharp sensation lances across my chest. Not because it’s painful, necessarily, but because what I’m feeling is so raw and vulnerable and…more than a little scary.

Then her eyes slide closed again and she burrows her face into the crook of my arm and?—

She goes back to sleep.

To. Sleep.

Crack!

This time I do wince at the sharp, shuddering sensation that ricochets through my chest.

But, thankfully, she’s not awake to see it.

I dream of flowers and soft, springy summer grass cushioning my body.

Sun dancing across my closed eyes and the cool wind just barely ruffling my hair.

I dream so deeply that when I wake, I have a moment of disorientation.

I’m in that dream, that peace, the vision dominating my mind.

But then…I’m awake but living that dream.

Sunlight glints in through the open shutters of the windows, streaking across the carpet, the end of the bed…

And over the woman in my arms.

I inhale, and it’s flowers in my nose.

I flex my arms, and it’s soft curves against me.

I look down and?—

Crack!

Rory’s beautiful green eyes are open and she’s looking up at me. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” I whisper back, everything in the world going hushed.

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