Page 104 of Cruel Hearts

“Okay.”

She dozes while water fills the large tub.

I owe Mel a million dollars for asking Stella to wear a bulletproof vest. I never thought of it, and once again, I’m not being realistic, not fully comprehending how much shit we’re in,how evil Ash is. She was standing just inches in front of me, and he tried to kill her.

The expression on her face when the bullet hit her will never leave my brain for as long as I’m alive, and the hollow feeling in my heart that threatened to swallow me whole while I talked to the detective will last just as long.

The tub is full of warm water, and I turn the faucet off and undress. I unpin Stella’s wig and pull the glasses off her face. She meets my eyes and flinches, the drugs and lies twisting what she knows. She’s afraid of me, and it rips me to shreds she believed my show, even though I warned her. These few days together haven’t been enough. There’s too much damage, and she’ll need time to feel secure in my love. Because of our different pasts, maybe she never did.

It’s up to me to fix that.

The bruise blooming above her left breast knocks the breath out of my lungs. Bright red in the center, it’s spreading into her breast tissue and under her arm. It looks swollen, painful, and hot to the touch. We’re lucky whoever tried to kill her used a handgun and not a rifle like the one that shot Quinn. The vest wouldn’t have kept her alive.

I carefully undress her, and she rubs my jaw. I lean into her touch like Max’s cat whenever someone runs their hand over the top of his head. I can’t remember the last time I thought to shave, but Stella likes my scruff and I don’t worry about it.

When she’s naked, I pick her up and carry her into the dark bathroom. I sink to the bottom of the enormous tub and settle her between my legs, my back against the wall. I add more hot water, and I hope a long soak will help her relax. Her head lolls against my shoulder, and she hums. That pain pill may have been too much, but I’m thankful for it if she’s not hurting. I lather a washcloth and smooth it over her shoulders, breasts,and belly. The fake blood stained her skin, and her whole body is a rainbow of painful color.

Kissing her shoulder, I mumble, “I love you, Stella. I’m sorry this happened.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, baby.”

“That’s good.”

She twists in my arms, and her lips meet mine. I gently nuzzle her mouth, holding her tightly, but hopefully not so much I’m hurting her. In these coming days, I’ll need to find a balance between keeping her safe and giving her the freedom she’ll want and need to help us.

“I thought you were dead, and I’ve never felt so lost. You can’t leave me. Not ever again. Will you promise me?”

Pain and fatigue are hazy in her eyes, but I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. She doesn’t answer me, just sighs and presses her cheek against my shoulder. Maybe it’s too much to ask now. Maybe I don’t have the right. Maybe the promises won’t mean anything until the Blacks are in prison, but I need something to look forward to. Something to keep me going.

“Will you marry me, Stella, when this is all over?”

She rubs her foot over my leg.

The minutes tick by, and I think she won’t answer. I try to convince myself that it’s okay. She told me she loves me, and that’s enough. It will have to be. I swirl my fingertips over her back and kiss the top of her head.

Finally, she draws a breath and asks, “If I say yes, will you buy me a yacht?”

Laughter bursts out of me, and water sloshes over the side of the tub. I hug her as tightly as I dare. “Stella, if you can forgive me for being a stupid asshole and love me enough to let me put a ring on your finger and promise to love you forever, I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want.”

I bury my face in the curve of her neck.

“All I want is you.” Her voice is low, sad, and wispy thin. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Seems so simple, but you keep slipping through my fingers.” She lifts a hand and lets the water dribble from her palm.

Her words chill me, and there’s nothing I can say to defend myself.

I wash her hair and slick conditioner through it. We soak until our skin prunes and the water cools. I drain the tub and so very carefully, I lift her out. Even after soaking in the warm water, she’s stiff, and I keep hold of her so she doesn’t fall.

“Do you need another pain pill?” I ask, rubbing the white terrycloth over her skin. Every inch of bruising is my fault. Everywhere the towel touches, I brush my lips.

“No. I just need to sleep.”

She doesn’t have clothes or pajamas in the room, and she crawls into bed naked. I pull the comforter up to her chin and kiss her lips. She’s sound asleep in seconds. I slide into bed next to her and turn off the bedside lamp. I text Mel and ask her to give us twelve hours, and she replies, sending a thumbs up. I owe her for keeping Stella safe, but by the time this is done, I’ll owe a lot of people a lot of things.

I toss my phone on the nightstand. Weary to the bone, I’m exhausted, but I don’t fall asleep. At least, not right away.

Instead, I think about all that we need to do and what will be on the agenda in the coming days.

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