Page 24 of Bound in Promise
He hasn’t kept his hands off me.
We drove Liam to the hospital while Dante kept his fingers threaded through mine the whole drive, as if I might disappear if he let go. Even as he touched me so soothingly, he gave a clear warning to Liam about what to say—and what not to say—that sent chills running down my spine. Dante’s words must have had a similar effect on Liam, since he carefully repeated the story his uncle fed him for the doctors.
It was a drug deal gone bad. Liam got roughed up and shot, end of story.
Once the doctors leave the room, Dante crisply explains to his nephew that he likely has, at most, twelve hours to get cleaned up and discharged before the cops put two and two together and find him. The hospital isn’t too far from the creep-tastic house we were holed up in. I feel my skin prickle with my own sense of urgency—Liam needs to get away, sure, but so do we. We aren’t out of the woods yet.
And if the cops do get involved, if they manage to connect me to Liam or the mess we left behind, I already know what I’ll do. I have my story ready.
I will tell the police everything Liam did to me, what he did to that poor man at the gas station, and I won’t mention my husband’s name at all.
Guess my sense of loyalty is enough for me to forget the bloodbath in that backyard.
I’ll gladly throw Liam under the bus to save my husband. I’ll protect Dante at any cost.
‘Till death do us part and all that.
We leave Liam behind at the hospital and Dante checks us into a hotel room, still keeping one hand entwined with mine. As he guides me through the door of our room, which is way nicer than the last few places I’ve seen, he turns and pulls me into his body, wrapping me in his arms. The rough scrape of his stubble against my cheek and the warmth of his chest makes my anxiety vanish. When he stares down at me with those rich brown eyes, the world melts away.
I’m safe.
I give into the comfort, the peace of his hold. The power he has over me should probably worry me, but I choose to lose myself in the wash of calm instead. Why fight it?
“How about you use my phone to text Ellie and let her know you’re okay?” Dante swipes at the screen to unlock it before handing it over. “And maybe once we’re home we’ll get together, the three of us.” He smirks. “I should probably meet her for real.”
I can’t help my dry chuckle. “I’d like that. But I don’t know if you’re ready for her.”
“Text her,” he urges.
As I tap out a quick assurance that Dante found me and that we’re spending the night at a hotel before heading back to Connecticut, I can’t quite hide the tremor in my hands. I’m exhausted, crashing hard after an hours-long adrenaline rush, and all I want is to curl up in a tight ball under the covers.
“Why don’t we get you in the shower,” he suggests, his tone rugged and a bit strained as he gently takes the phone and sets it on the nightstand. “I’ll order you something to eat.”
I’m not hungry.
The thought of food isn’t at all appetizing. Yet, if it will make Dante feel better, I’ll choke down whatever he puts in front of me. It’s the least I can do. He can’t hide the worry sketched across his face as his eyes fill with so many complicated emotions that I can’t possibly decipher them all.
“Okay.”
I don’t want any distance between us, but washing the road trip from hell off my skin sounds like heaven. Like a step back towards normal.
I turn to the bathroom, but Dante’s grip closes around my wrist. Guess he’s not done talking yet. “Why didn’t you allow the doctors to take a look at you?”
My brows snap together. Wouldn’t me needing a full exam have blown our cover, linking me to Liam and the fictional drug deal? Bad enough that I had a face full of bruises that the nurses kept trying to fuss over. I’d made up something about playing roller derby. They didn’t back off until I assured them I’d been seen by a rink medic and was following basic concussion protocol. Honestly, I plan to act like the last bit is the truth, which means resting and limiting my screen time. Easy enough to do, and better safe than sorry. “They didn’t need to.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he growls softly, and I shiver in response to his sudden and palpable anger. “You don’t have to protect Liam or anyone else. You don’t have to be ashamed or worry that I’ll feel or treat you any differently.”
Oh.
Shit.
He thinks I’ve been raped.
I swallow thickly. I should have known Dante would want to unpack all this tonight. That what he’s imagined is eating him up inside and weighing on his soul.
“I didn’t…” The words catch in my throat. How do you calmly say I almost got raped? Is there a magic phrase to keep from sparking someone’s smoldering temper while explaining that, sure, you were assaulted, but you weren’t raped? I’m still processing it myself, struggling to sort out what did and didn’t happen. The mix of relief and helplessness I feel is enough to make me want to crawl out of my own skin until everything calms down and fades to a memory. “Don’t worry about that.”
Dante glowers, and while I don’t think he means to focus his anger on me, I still feel the heat of it. “What does that mean?”
