Page 101 of Finding Our Reality

I slam on the brakes.

What the hell am I doing?

I drag my hands through my hair. I’m breathing so hard my chest hurts. I’m starting to hyperventilate. I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white, and I think I’m about to break my fingers.

I force myself to take slow, deep breaths. Eventually, my blood pressure equalizes.

I can’t do this. I can’t leave. Leaving is what got me into this trouble in the first place. She’s the love of my life. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing.

She’s mine. Never before. Never after. Only her.

She’s my forever.

And now, I have to make her realize that too.

Yes, we’re hurting, but we need to hurttogether. I want to support her, heal her, make her whole. If that’s even possible. If it’s not? It doesn’t matter; I’m never leaving her side again.

I jump out of the truck and slam through the front door. She’s standing in the middle of the living room, crying in Holt’s arms. They stare at me like I’m an escaped lunatic.

“Ry?”

“I told you I would never leave again. I meant it.”

Holt takes a step in my direction. For a second, it looks like he might attack me.

I’ve always liked the guy; it’d be a shame to kick his ass.

Using his better judgment, he simply nods and plants a soft kiss on Lulu’s temple before retreating to his bedroom. “I’ll give y’all some privacy.”

She wipes her eyes and sniffles. “What do you want, Ry?”

I don’t see the need for any answer but the simple truth. “You. I want you, Lulu.” I cross the distance between us and sink to my knees. Gathering her body against mine, I rub my face against her stomach. The stomach that carried our child, the stomach that’s been through more than I could ever imagine. I pepper kisses all over her blouse. It smells like dried blood and her coconut lotion.

She doesn’t move. She stands like a statue. Unmoved, unfeeling.

Come back to me. Please come back to me, Lulu.

I squeeze her tighter, wrapping my arms around her waist, her ass, her hips. “Come back to me, Lulu. Please don’t leave me. I’m here.” I nuzzle myself against her, murmuring over and over. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

When her fingers finally thread through my hair, I nearly collapse in relief.

Standing, I gently kiss her lips and wipe the moisture from her rosy cheeks.

“I can’t talk about it anymore tonight,” she says. “My heart is all plugged up.”

Mine too.

Grabbing her good hand, I pull her behind me, wordlessly leading her down the hall. I shut her bedroom door, and she stands next to the bed, watching in curiosity as I shed my clothes, stripping down to my boxer briefs. I turn down the sheets and grab one of my old Harlan T-shirts from her dresser. They’re still in the exact same place they were all of those years ago. I point to her heels. She kicks them off her feet. She doesn’t shy away when I grab her blouse and gently pull it over her head, taking extra care with her hurt arm. The plump skin of her breasts spills from the top of her satin and lace bra. She shudders when my fingers hook in the elastic waistband of her ankle pants. I push them down her legs, and my dick jumps when I feel the silkiness of her smooth skin.

Her hand covers her stomach, hiding something. I can’t help but wonder if she had a C-section. I didn’t notice a scar the other night, but I was too preoccupied in keeping my libido in control while changing her clothes.

I don’t want to upset her, so I don’t stare.

I help her step out of her pants and then trace a finger up the scar from her hip surgery. I can’t see the whole thing. It disappears underneath the edge of her pink flowered panties. With a trembling hand, she reaches up to my shoulder and rubs my own scar, following its jagged path around to my shoulder blade. She sucks in a breath, shocked by the divots, bumps, and unevenness of my skin—the particles left behind from the explosion. Her eyes never leave mine.

When she drops her hand, I motion for her to spin around. Unhooking the clasp of her bra, I watch as it falls to the floor. Her back is so smooth, the curve of her spine so alluring. What Iwouldn’t give to see her. To touch her. To graze my teeth across her brown nipples.

But I don’t.

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