“I’ll keep it in my car from now on.” He joined me on the floor again.
“But what about the whole protection thing my dad talked about?”
“Don’t care. It’s stayin’ in my car.”
I nodded, and my lip trembled as I tucked my hair behind my ears.
Dean brought himself closer, wrapping his arms around me. The gesture was simple, but broke the fragile wall barely holding my tears back.
I cried into his chest, and he pulled me into his lap, stroking the back of my head as he let me crumble.
These tears weren’t for anything in particular. I was mentally and emotionally fried. But crying felt strangely better. A weight had been lifted from my chest.
My heart was a fraction lighter.
“I’m sorry you felt like you had to deal with this alone. I’m sorry I was so fuckin’ blind.” The complete adoration in his eyes, directed at me, was overwhelming and welcoming all at once. No one had ever loved me this much.
He gently lifted my wrist to look at the small pinch marks on my inner arm, where the blood had dried already. With a faint frown, he planted a kiss on my skin.
“You had enough going on,” I said quietly.
“Not enough that I can’t be here for you. Support goes both ways.” He brushed the back of his hand down my cheek. “Promise me you’ll call the doctor.”
“I promise.”
Dean rested his chin on the top of my head. His hand on my upper arm gently squeezed before he rubbed it in thought, huffing a solemn laugh. “I thought we had this communication shit down pat. Turns out, I was very fuckin’ wrong.”
I wiped my eyes. “I don’t think it’s necessarily bad. It just needs work… Although I do think rushing into things might’ve made ustoocomfortable.”
That didn’t come out how I wanted, and Dean pulled back to look down at me.
His brow furrowed. “Okay…”
“I mean, our relationship happened really fast with everything else going on. We sort of bonded over shared trauma… We didn’t have a lot of time to do normal couple things once we were together. Everything stacked up—”
His frown was growing deeper the more he tried to understand what I was saying.
“God, I’m butchering this explanation,” I laughed lightly. “I’m trying to say that we got closer faster than any normal couple would because of dangerous situations. But I don’t regret any of it… I’d do it all again if I could. Maybe without getting shot.”
A flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes, and the frown softened. “I think I get it… Youareokay with us, though?”
“Oh my gosh—yes, of course! We’re in too deep to go back now.”
He hooked my hair behind my ear while his expression grew lighter. Even the room seemed less closed in as our moods shifted to something more positive. Open.
“Your turn,” I said, turning in his arms so I sat between his legs, resting my back to his chest.
“My turn?”
“What do you want to communicate?”
“Oh, right.” He pondered for a second, drawing idly on the top of my thigh with his finger. Then he took a breath, and I watched as his face grew nonchalant, keeping his eyes on where his finger traced the fabric of my jeans. “I started the fire at The Den.”
My eyes popped, and I turned sideways in his arms to gauge from him if he was joking or not. But his face was calm. “I’m sorry, you what?”
Dean shrugged. “I was pissed off with myself after I left you, and The Den seemed to be the one place at the time that caused us the most pain. I waited until it was quiet, cut the power so the cameras stopped working, broke in through the back, and sprinkled gasoline through the place. The club itself burned faster than anything in the basement… Burned myself in the process.” He lifted his right hand to show me the small scar on the heel of his palm.
I took his hand to look closer as my mouth dropped open. “Dean. You told me that was a lighter burn.”
