Page 55 of The Trust We Broke
We’re back where we were always meant to be.
The two of us.
Taking care of each other.
Steam starts to swirl around us. Zach must be melting in all his winter riding gear.
And yet, I shake.
Can’t decide if it’s because I got cold on the ride back to the apartment in my sweaty workout clothes, or it’s the presence of Zach, and the prospect that he’s about to undress me, causing me to shiver.
At least, that’s what I think he intends to do.
He glares at me, but beneath it, I feel the intensity of the way he always used to look at me. The soul-deep loneliness I’ve felt all these years bubbles to the surface, but it isn’t a good enough reason to capitulate and lean into him.
He folds his arms across his chest. “Not going anywhere, Luce.”
“Do I have to call Greer to ask her to get Butcher or someone to come talk some sense into you?” I reach for my armband to grab my phone and realize it’s no longer there.
It must have fallen out when I fell.
“Shit, my phone.”
I pat down my running jacket pockets, even though I know damn well it was in my armband.
Grudge slides his phone from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and dials a number before placing it to his ear. “Catfish, do me a favor, please. Go back with some prospects to where Lucy fell. She lost her phone down the embankment somewhere.” There’s a pause. “Yeah. Holler when you find it.”
He hangs up and slides the phone back into his pocket, then turns off the hot water to the tub.
When he’s done, he grips my chin and holds my face tilted up to him. I have to crane my neck to look up that far, given how close he is to me. He smells of leather and fresh air.
“You and me have got a shit ton we need to say to each other. Arguably, you should have said it the day before you sent those divorce papers. And we’re going to have that reckoning whether you want it or not, if you insist on sticking around.” His hand goes to the bump on the side of my head. “But I’m not so much of a monster that I’m going to make you do it now. So, you’re going to let me get you into that tub and stay here for a while so you can sleep, and I don’t have to worry about whether you are in here alone, dying from a brain bleed.”
I open my mouth to fight back, but I know I’m not going to win this. And if I were being objective and smart instead of emotional and a coward, I’d realize what he’s saying makes sense.
I should tell him about the files, but I can’t tell him now, when I’m chilled to the bone, hurting, and unable to think clearly.
There was always something in Zach’s tone that told me whether there was room to maneuver. I could always read between the lines; maybe it’s what makes me a good defense attorney. What people say is literally the tip of the iceberg.
Beneath the surface, though, is body language and intuition and the ability to look for nuance.
And I always knew when I’d pushed him too far.
His hand moves to my arm and gently removes the sleeve I put my phone in.
Then, he unzips my running jacket painfully slowly. I glance at his hand, and it’s hard to explain to myself the sudden spring of tears.
His knuckles now say LUCK, not LUCE.
You can’t get my name on your knuckles. It’s going to hurt.
He looked at me so sincerely, it drove a spike through my heart.
Everything I do is for you, for us. If it takes a few moments of pain to make that clear to everyone, it’s worth it.
I sat next to him, holding his other hand while he had it done. The tattoo artist grinned at the two of us. It was clear Grudge didn’t need emotional support from me. He was already covered in ink and knew what to expect, but he let me hover, checking he was okay after every single letter.
And he let me care for it when we got home. While Grudge already knew what he was doing to take care of new ink, I’d searched it up online and insisted on being the one to wash it gently and apply the lotion the tattoo artist recommended to help it heal.
