Page 71 of Killer's Obsession
“The only thing I can promise you,” I say, holding her gaze, “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Making sure you never doubt my trust or my love.”
She nods, belief shining in her eyes.
I press another kiss to her lips, gentler this time. “Now, help your wounded old man get comfortable in this bed. I think I might have overdone it a bit.”
She laughs softly, rising to help me lie back against the pillows. “You think?”
As she fusses over me, arranging the pillows just so and pulling the covers up, I watch her with new respect.
I almost lost her. I almost lost this.
But somehow, the gods have given us another chance.
And I won’t fuck it up this time.
Epilogue
Memphis
One Month Later
“How freaking cute are these?”
I hold up one of the navy blue plates with the subtle gray pattern around the edge, turning it over in my hands to inspect the quality. I’ve never seen a more put-together bachelor pad kitchen in my life, though I suppose Pinky and I deserve all of the credit since we’re the ones who picked everything out.
“He’s got a whole aesthetic going on,” Pinky laughs, carefully arranging mugs on the hooks beneath the cabinet. “I call it ‘Modern Biker Chic.’”
I snort, reaching up to place the plate in the cabinet. “Is that even a thing?”
“It is now!” She grins, handing me another plate from the box.
We’ve been at this for hours—unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and turning Dread’s new house into a home. It’s a gorgeous place—two stories with four bedrooms and two and a half baths. The living room is spacious with big windows that let in tons of natural light, but it’s the kitchen that’s the real showstopper. Gleaming quartz countertops, a massive island with pendant lights hanging above it, and a fancy gas stove that I’m honestly a little jealous of.
“I still can’t believe he just handed over his credit card and told us to ‘make it look nice,’” I say, arranging a stack of bowls next to the plates.
Pinky rolls her eyebrows. “Men.”
“Tell me about it.” I laugh, reaching for the next box. “Killer let me have complete control over decorating our place. I asked for his input once, and he said, ‘whatever makes you happy, babe.’”
“He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who gets into picking out china patterns or curtain fabric,” Pinky winks.
She ain’t wrong. Getting his input was like pulling teeth.
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching has us both turning in time to see Killer and Dread entering the kitchen. Their arms are loaded down with boxes.
“Honey, we’re home!” Dread calls out dramatically, setting his boxes on the counter. “Tell me you ladies have made progress, because I’m about ready to pass out.”
“We’ve made tons of progress,” I tell him, gesturing around the kitchen. “What do you think?”
He looks around, nodding in approval. “Damn. Looks good. Looks like a woman lives here.”
“You gotta find one first,” Killer says with a smirk, placing the boxes in his hands beside Dread’s on the counter.
I can’t help but notice how Pinky stiffens when Killer steps closer. The easy smile I’m so used to seeing shifts to the forced one she’s adopted anytime my man is around. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I know Killer has been trying so hard to make amends for what happened that night at the clubhouse—buying her gifts, apologizing repeatedly, giving her space when she needs it. Some wounds take longer to heal than others, but this… I don’t know if this can ever be fixed.
Catching his eye across the kitchen, I can see that he notices it too. The guilt I know he feels flashes across his face before he schools his expression and turns to Dread.
“So what’s the deal with that eyesore next door?” Killer asks, changing the subject.
