Page 61 of Nick
Sarah hesitated, a flicker of resistance in her expressive brown eyes before she relented, tipping two pills into her palm and swallowing them dry.She winced, and Nick felt the echo of her pain like a phantom ache in his own chest.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, a gesture meant to steady rather than confine, and led her to the bathroom, where he turned the shower on, waiting for the water to heat up before he urged her into the space.
She stood under the spray, shoulders hunched, the water tracing rivulets down her bruised and broken skin.She glanced at him through the mist, a flicker of a spark lighting her eyes.“Don’t get any ideas, Reagan,” she teased, a shadow of a smile flirting with her lips.“I’m not up for shower sex.”
“Wasn’t thinking it,” Nick lied, stepping into the heat of the water.
He reached for the soap, his movements deliberate, avoiding the more tender areas marred by dark purples and reds.Gently, he ran a cloth along her arm, the muscles beneath flinching at the contact.
“Sorry,” he muttered each time she tensed, feeling the sting as if it was his own flesh.
“Stop apologizing,” she said.“It’s not your fault.”
But it was.Every bruise was a word unspoken, every cut a path he hadn’t taken.He trailed his fingers with care, cleaning away blood and grime, wishing he could do the same for the past.
“Does that hurt?”The steady drumming of the water almost drowned out his voice.
“Less than losing you did,” she said, her voice cracking with truth that neither of them could escape.
Nick’s hands stilled, her admission touching something deep inside him.And as they stood there, the water washing away layers of pain and regret, Nick understood that no matter how far they had strayed, their paths were forever intertwined.
In her room, Sarah moved gingerly through the dim light, her steps cautious and laden with pain.
“Easy,” he murmured, his voice carrying all the protective ferocity of his wolf.His hands hovered at her back, ready to support her.She eased onto the mattress, the simple act a battle against the cuts and bruises.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the words wrapped in the exhaustion that seemed to sink into her bones.Her eyes fluttered closed.
Nick remained standing, his body coiled tight.
As if she felt his stare, Sarah’s eyes opened once more.“Nick,” she began, her voice barely above a breath, “I need you to know—I love you.”
He froze in place.
“I never stopped,” she continued, her words trailing off as her eyes drifted shut again and her breathing slowed.
Something fierce and tender unfurled within him, an acknowledgment of the bond that no betrayal, no distance could sever.He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand finding hers beneath the covers.Their fingers intertwined.
“Rest now,” he said, his voice a growl softened by the depth of his own emotion.“I’ve got you.”
“Nick…” She grasped his hand tighter.
“Shh, you need to rest,” he murmured.
“No.I have to tell you…” Sarah’s voice was strained and urgent.“Back then… I couldn’t let you be tortured because of me.”
The words hit Nick like a claw swipe across his gut.
His jaw clenched as images of that dark time surged in his mind—the suspicion, the betrayal, the raw fear.
He’d been a breath away from torture at Vincent’s hands—a cruel game for the alpha’s twisted satisfaction—and he’d never known it.
“You did what you thought you had to do.”
“And Vincent would have destroyed Javi too—I couldn’t let that monster touch what we created.”
The protective instincts that always simmered within him flared hot and fierce.Their child.The reality of it sank its teeth into him, the idea that something so precious had been threatened because of Vincent’s cruelty.“He’ll never touch anything of ours again.”
Sarah’s gaze held his, a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness.In that moment, Nick felt their shared history, the love and loss, coil tight around his heart.
