It hurts.
I know I was warned that Justin had the right or whatever in their world to do this to Goose, to even kill him if he wanted to, for being with me, but it doesn’t make the idea of it, the pain of seeing it come to fruition, any less.
I hurry to the bathroom to gather my first-aid supplies and some clean towels. I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to wound care, but I can wash the blood off and put some antibacterial cream on whatever is bleeding, then slap Band-Aids any and everywhere I can.
After filling a bowl with hot water, I make my way back to the living room. I’m surprised to see that Goose is leaning against my sofa, his cut and shirt on the sofa behind him, his legsstretched out in front of him, and his chin dropped with his eyes closed.
“You’re a mess of a man,” I whisper.
Sinking onto my knees next to him with my supplies, I begin to work on him. He hisses every time the warm towel touches his skin. I blot as gently as I can, wondering how the hell this became my life.
“I want this to work, Cidney.”
“But?” I ask, refusing to make eye contact.
I’m not sure if I can look at him when we’re talking about this. My focus needs to remain on his wounds, and I keep it there as I work, my attempt to distract myself all over again, but in a different way.
“No but. I just want this to work.”
My lips curve up into a grin before I flick my gaze up to meet his. Even though I can still feel abuthanging in the air, he doesn’t say anything else.
“So what happens next?” I ask.
I hate that he’s swollen and bloody, that his face and body are bruised, but I can’t deny that this moment also makes me happy. This is a pivotal moment, and I know that everything is about to change, between us and in my life, with whatever he’s going to say next. I just hope it’s not something that will break my heart in two.
“What happens next is that you and me—we’re together now. You’re my woman and my old lady.”
I continue to clean him up while a million questions swirl around inside my head. I want to ask him all of those questions, but I don’t. I feel really stupid right now, and a little immature, too.
But god, that sounds amazing.
It’s what I want.
Be his woman.
Goose’s old lady.
Holy fucking shit.
“Goose,” I whisper.
“My fucking woman,” he rasps, but there is a sadness to his voice that I don’t understand.
“I don’t like any part of this, Goose. I really don’t.”
I feel very hesitant to be happy, to allow myself to be happy, because this doesn’t feel anything remotely like a happy situation. Before I can say anything else, he reaches out, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his side. He lets out a grunt as I land against him. His lips touch my temple.
“Just stay here with me,” he murmurs.
“Goose?”
“Trent,” he mutters. “My name is Trent, baby.”
Trent.
“What really happens next, Trent?”
He hums, not saying anything immediately. I hold my breath for a moment, then let it out slowly, shifting my head so I can look up at him. I watch as he tilts his chin slightly, his gaze shifting to find mine.
