Page 120 of Delicate Escape

Fatigue hitme like a Mack truck as Shep carried me into the kitchen. “I can walk.”

“Nope,” he muttered.

“Shep…”

“Just give me this, Thorn. Need to know you’re okay.”

A sigh left my lips, but I burrowed my face into his neck. It was more than just knowing I was okay. Shep wanted to make sure I wasn’t bailing on him. A stab of guilt hit me straight in the solar plexus.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered against his neck. “I promise.”

Shep slowly lowered me into a chair at the kitchen table. As he released me, his hands came to my face, and his thumbs ghosted under my eyes as if searching for any remnants of tears. Then they trailed lower, over the curve of my cheeks, one to my bottom lip and the other down my neck. It was as if he was memorizing the feel of me.

“I know.”

His gaze flicked down to my lap, and hefrowned. He grabbed one of my hands, lifting it for his inspection. There were smears of blood on my palms, along with crescent moon-shaped wounds. “What happened?” His finger ghosted—featherlight—over the injuries.

I winced. “I think I did it when Brendan came into the bakery. I didn’t realize I’d broken the skin.”

A muscle along Shep’s jaw fluttered wildly. “Stay here.”

His voice had gone gruff, all Mr. Control. But I didn’t argue. I was too exhausted to move anyway.

A few seconds later, Shep reappeared with countless items in his arms. He set them on the table and then moved to the sink to wash his hands.

I studied the array of goods. Hydrogen peroxide, ointment, Band-Aids, gauze, tape. “It’s not that bad. I can just wash my hands?—”

Shep turned to me as he dried his hands, cutting off my words with a look. “We don’t want them to get infected. And if I remember correctly, you did the same thing for me.”

I snapped my mouth closed as he strode across the small kitchen and pulled out a second chair. The scent of cedar and sawdust swirled around me, soothing more than any ointment ever would. Because it was Shep.

Sitting, he picked up a piece of gauze and coated it in hydrogen peroxide. Then he took one of my hands in his, palm up, and studied the wounds. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“Shep—”

He swept the gauze across my palm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You can’t be with me every moment of every day,” I said softly.

“I want to be.”

“Shepard…”

The use of his full name had Shep looking up.

“That’s not the answer. Being together twenty-four-seven isn’t healthy for either of us.”

His mouth turned down in a frown. “I don’t want him to blindside you again. Don’t want him to get you alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. And I never will be. Because I carry you here.” I pressed my free hand to my heart, not caring if I got blood on myshirt. “You’ve made me realize my own strength, my bravery. You’ve made me a fighter.”

“Thorn,” he whispered.

“It’s true. And I know Brendan. He won’t risk doing something publicly. He’ll do it behind the scenes.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Shep gritted out.

“You can’t control what he does or doesn’t do. We just have to deal with whatever happens.”

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