Page 91 of Savage Heart

They’d come home from the clubhouse, ordered pizza from Gino’s, and ate while watchingThe Beekeeper. Trouble loved the action, Liz loved looking at Jason Statham, and Erika just enjoyed being cuddled by her daddy. It was a simple, normal evening—even if its beginning was terrible.

That day had begun with so much excitement and anticipation for an evening of relaxation and then amazing sex with a man who’d done the impossible; earned her forgiveness. She would be the first to admit that when they’d reunited two years ago, she’d been determined to treat him like the plague, keeping her distance and making sure all of her vulnerable parts were securely covered. And for the next two years, he’d done an amazing job of pissing her off, hurting her pride, and kicking at the pieces of her broken heart still lying on the floor. He’d used Amelia to push her back, keep up the animosity, and—as he admitted—hurt her…because he was hurting. For sure, that was an asshole move. But then…after her attack, he’d changed. He’d gone from asshole Trouble to Erik, the man she loved. He’d shown his soft belly, waiting for the deciding blow, knowing that he’d been in the wrong and deserved whatever damage she did to him.

But—God—she was tired of being on the attack, of being on the alert, of being strong and fierce and impenetrable—when what she really was, was betrayed, scared, and uncertain. She put on armor each and every day, determined to protect herself from the slings and arrows of hurt that Trouble shot her way. And when he put down the bow, threw open his arms, and made himself a target of her disdain…she’d wanted nothing more than to pull off that armor, drop it, and run into his embrace.

And now…they were here, in bed, together.

A family.

“You okay, baby?” Trouble’s sleep thickened voice rasped, intruding on Liz’s thoughts. His eyes were dark, filled with tender concern.

She offered him a soft smile. “Yeah, just thinking,” she admitted on a whisper.

“About what?” Between them, Erika shifted in her sleep, grunting against her father’s chest. Liz couldn’t help but grin,and Trouble’s smile was so adoring, Liz felt the warmth of it in her atoms.

“Let me put her to bed, then I’ll come back,” Trouble murmured, kissing Erika’s head. “You get ready for bed, then, when I get back, we’ll talk.”

Liz didn’t need to ask what he wanted to talk about; there was almost too much to say, but it needed to be done if she wanted to move forward.

And she did.

She wanted to move forward with Trouble.

There were just some things that she needed to get off her chest first.

She watched as Trouble slid from the bed, and gently, carefully picked up their daughter, cradling her like princess cut crystal against his chest. He looked down at her, his gaze overflowing with fierce love, and Liz knew she was making the right choice—for Erika and for herself.

Trouble quietly left the room to put Erika in her bed, and Liz hurried to change into her pajamas, wash her face, brush her teeth, and spend five minutes staring at herself in the mirror, trying not to break down.

She’d stabbed a man that afternoon. Slid the blade right between his fourth and fifth ribs with the intent to cause exsanguination—she’d wanted him to die, and the last thing on her mind in that moment was her oath as a doctor. He was holding her hostage, had every intent to harm her, and had threatened her daughter. No one threatened her daughter! And she knew that, even if she did as Danil Oblek wanted, her life was over. It didn’t matter if he didn’t kill her, the promise of pain and violation in his eyes, told her that she was going towishhe’d kill her.

“I did what I had to do….” To save herself…and her daughter.

But no matter how many times she said that, thought that, it didn’t stop her mind from replaying how it felt to sink that scalpel into his side, or the sound it made as it went in, or the soundhemade as the pain registered…. She’d done that. To another human being.

What did that make her?

Shaking, unable to look herself in the eye, she turned away from the mirror. The sob she’d been holding in for hours finally broke free, and with it a cascade of tears.

One second, she was alone, and the next she was wrapped in familiar strong arms.

“Oh, baby…that’s it…let it all out, I’ll hold you while you let it go.” Murmuring into her hair, he squeezed her, holding her against his chest as he slid them to the bathroom floor. He rocked her, murmuring soft, reassuring words as she fell to pieces.

She didn’t know how long they sat like that, the floor growing harder and colder under her ass, but eventually, the tears stopped.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trouble asked, his voice gentle, not a hint of judgement to be heard.

Knowing she had to “let it all out” she nodded.

“Right, then, let’s get up off this hard ass floor. I think there’s the stuff for my world-famous Texas Hot Chocolate in the cupboards. I’ll whip up a batch while you settle into the couch, and then you can talk until my ear falls off—how does that sound?”

She cracked a smile, her cheeks hurting from the tear chaffing. “That sounds perfect.”

He helped her to her feet, leading her out to the living room with a hand on her lower back. It felt right to have his hand there, to have been in his arms while her world fell apart.

Trouble left her on the couch and headed into the kitchen, and while she waited for his world-famous hot chocolate, her gaze landed on the new pictures on his entertainment center. There were three of them. One was a picture of her and Erika that she’d taken on the first school field trip to the Grand Canyon, the spell-binding natural wonder in the background. The next picture was of Erika standing next to the wax figure of Taylor Swift at Madame Tussaud’s; Erika’s smile was so big, it barely fit in the frame. The last picture was one she hadn’t expected…it was of her, standing in the clubhouse medical room. She was dressed in her usual pencil skirt, silk blouse, and 4-inch heels, and she wasn’t looking at the camera. The picture had been taken when she had no idea Trouble had been standing there. In the picture, her eyes were closed, and there was a soft, sweet smile on her face. She remembered, then, that she’d just listened to a voicemail from Erika, in which she’d gone on and on about her day at school, until the message cut her off. Her girl knew how to fill up any silence with endearing monologue.

But why did Trouble have a picture of her like that?

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