Page 44 of Wait in the Truck
At that point, all I can do is hold onto the stallion beneath me as he groans his pleasure in a rough, gritty, raw voice. “Sage!”
I collapse against his chest, my heart thundering in time with his. Strong arms band around me, holding me tightly to him. At my temple, he whispers gruffly, “Are you okay?”
I take a few moments to breathe, finally looking up with a nod, only to feel wetness slip from the corner of my eye.
“Baby?” He freezes in place. “Talk to me, Sage.” He pauses, a horrified look in his eyes. “I ca—” A harsh exhale takes the place of whatever he was about to say as he shifts, moving his hands back to my hips and beginning to lift me from his still-hard erection.
“No. Wait.” I shake my head, wiping the moisturefrom my cheek. “I’m just emotional. I’m okay. I don’t want this to be over yet.” I wet my lips as he narrows his eyes.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” With a shuddery intake of breath, I make myself at home again on his chest. “Hold me, Kade?”
“You got it. You never have to ask. And, Sage, even if your tears fall as often as rain, I will be here. For you. You’remygirl now. You hear me?Mine.”
A wet chuckle leaves my lips, and I press a kiss to his chest. “I like the sound of that.”
“Get used to it.” The words rumbles up his throat. “I know you like to handle shit on your own. But make me a promise—tell me if there’s ever another problem.” I nod as he continues, “You can’t have gone through what you did and come out the other side without being plenty strong. But at the same time, I need you to know you have me, and while you can take care of things on your own, you don’t fucking have to. Not with me around.”
KADE
24
I’mnervous as fuck to take Sage back to Lilac Meadows. She hasn’t said a word since we left my house. Her silence isn’t just quiet—it’s thick, suffocating, wrapping around us like a noose. She’s rigid in her seat, back straight, legs pressed together. I get the impression she’s trying to brace herself; steeling her mind so the weight of what we’re driving toward won’t crush her. Her fingers curl tight around the door handle, her grip so white-knuckled it looks like her bones might push through the skin. With her jaw locked and muscles clenched, she stares straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the house in the distance. The house where she killedhim.
The tension coils in my gut. I feel it creeping into my bones, stirring something low in my chest that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with protecting what’s mine.
Ipull the truck to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine idles, humming like a restless animal waiting for the next move. Sage doesn’t stir in her seat. She doesn’t unbuckle, doesn’t shift, doesn’t even blink. Her breathing is measured control, but I see she’s fighting for it. It’s in how her chest rises just a little too fast, and the way her throat works when she swallows.
She’s unraveling, but she won’t let herself fall apart.Not yet.
I follow her gaze to her bedroom window. She’s reliving it, every detailed second of Ridge Everett taking his last breath. Even though he’s gone, she’s still petrified, haunted by the place where she claimed the last lease of life from the man who caused her nothing but pain.
My jaw tightens. If she asked me to, I’d light this place on fire and then piss on the ashes. Or maybe I’d make it suffer first. Draw it out. Let it feel the same kind of slow, creeping dread Sage does every time she lays eyes on it. Probably not normal to fantasize about brutalizing a fucking building, but hey—I never claimed to be a normal guy.
I unbuckle my seat belt, lean toward her, and tip her chin up, forcing her to look at me instead. My fingers linger on her jaw, my thumb tracing the edge of her cheekbone, grounding her back in the present, back to me.
“We’re not staying in that fucking house.” The wordsare low, firm, and undeniable.At least not yet. I’ll hold her hand while she takes baby steps.
Sage blinks up at me, the slightest furrow between her brows. Almost as if she’d expected me to force her to go inside. Little does she know I’d never make her face something she’s not ready to.
“We’ll sleep in the barn. That way, we’re here, but you’re a little more comfortable.”Well, as comfortable as one can be next to the murder house.
The breath she releases is shaky, but it’s there. Her shoulders lose some of the tension, and her fingers unclench from the door handle.Good girl, Wildflower.
I kill the engine and the sudden silence presses in around us. The barn looms ahead, dark and familiar, a stark contrast to the building next to it. My door creaks when I shove it open, the hinges whining in protest. Gravel crunches under my boots as I round the truck.
She doesn’t look at me through the window, but I can see her fingers twitch against her lap, like she’s debating whether to move.
I reach for the handle and pull the door open. Crouching slightly, I level my gaze with hers. Sounds of her shallow breathing fill the cab as her eyes flicker to mine before darting away again.
I extend a hand. No words. Just the silent command that says,Come here.
She hesitates, just for a second, before slipping herhand into mine. It’s cold, though her grip is tight. I don’t let go as I guide her out until her boots hit the ground.
She stares at the barn. The towering wooden beams give way to the heavy doors that are slightly ajar, like an open invitation.
My palm finds the small of her back. Each step is calculated, like she’s expecting the ground to shift under her feet. The scent of hay, dust, and something else—something older, something that’s lived in these wooden bones for decades—settles around us. It’s quiet but not empty. Not hollow. This barn has seen Sage at her worst, and now it’s seeing her raw, tormented, but still standing.
