Page 98 of Rooster

"I thought he was you," I repeat, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You did absolutely nothing wrong, baby. Hear me when I say that, please."

"He put his fingers inside of me," I spit on a sob that racks my entire body.

He pulls me to his chest, and I don't hesitate to bury my nose in his shirt, the scent of him familiar and healing.

"I'll fucking kill him myself."

He holds me to him, squeezing me harder when I wrap my arms around his waist and cry in his arms.

"I'm so sorry for the things he’s done to you, to us, and for the damage he’s caused. I can only imagine you wish you'd never met me."

I pull my head back, angling my chin up so I can look into his eyes, getting a little lost in his touch when he pushes a lock of hair behind my ear.

"I thought you'd hate me for what I let happen," I whisper.

"Hate you? Never, Morgan. He hurt you. That's on him, not on you. And to make things fucking worse," he says. "I hurt you."

I shake my head. "Hehurtus. That's the only way I can look at it. I'm so sorry."

"He's my brother. I'm the one who is sorry."

"How about no more apologies for things we can't control," I offer as I lift my hand and swipe at the tears that continue to roll down my face.

"I'd like that," he says, capturing my hand and bringing it to his mouth.

"I can't believe he was able to fool me," I whisper, pressing my palm to his cheek. "The two of you couldn't be any more different."

"If we're lucky, we'll never have to worry about him again."

"He's your brother."

"He went too far. The man I want in my life doesn't exist. I've accepted that."

I go easily when he pulls me to his chest, once again burying my nose in his t-shirt. His familiar scent washes over me, giving me more comfort than I even have the strength and courage to ask for right now.

"I want to build a life with you, Morgan Spence," he whispers into my hair, making me smile against his chest.

"I want that, too," I manage, my throat threatening to clog with emotions. "I'd like to start that journey with a shower."

He takes a step back, reaching for my hand before guiding me to his en suite.

"Let me get it started for you," he offers, but I cling to his hand when he tries to take a step away.

"I don't want to let him come between us. Join me?" I ask, not knowing what his answer will be.

"I don't expect that," he says, his eyes searching mine. "If you need time, I'll wait—"

"I need you with me," I assure him.

I release his hand and begin to work open the buttons on my blouse, and much to his credit, he gives me a soft, gentle smile before turning the water on.

He doesn't stare at me as I undress. He simply begins to pull his clothes off as well.

I have his undivided attention once we step inside the shower. He runs soft, gentle hands all over my body, spreading shower gel first and then rinsing it away. He urges my head back under the spray before washing my hair. There's so much care and love in his hands and actions that it's as if what happened tonight is already beginning to fade, and I'm grateful to have found a man who will forgive the things I've done.

I have no doubt he'll never mention it again if I ask him not to, and I know he'll talk about it a million times if it's what I need from him. I have every intention of being the exact same for him.

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