“I’m sorry that?—”
I grab her, pulling her down onto my lap. “Shh, I don’t want to hear it. I’d take fifty more hits if I needed to. You have to know, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to prove that I deserve you. I don’t, so I’ll have to spend forever trying.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat when her soft hand cups my aching jaw. She’s so perfect, so pure.
“I hope you’re able to get over that feeling sometime, sooner rather than later.” She trails her fingers down over my chest, a few inches away from the burned pink flesh. “Why did you let them do this?” she whispers.
I look down at the brand, feeling a sense of pride over it. “Because I need you to know that I’ll do anything to make you mine.”
She blinks back tears, shaking her head. “I thought you wanted to be a lonely, brooding bachelor forever.”
“I did. For a long time, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew that if I let go with you, if I let myself love you, that’d be it. I’m bound to lose you one day. You have ultimate control over me, my heart, my life. I’ve already lost everyone else.”
“So … what changed? That’s still true. Anything can happen.”
She’s tracing her finger over my collarbone. The morning sun is streaming through the oak trees lining the fence where cows are grazing on the other side.
“I’ve realized living without you is a thousand times more painful. If I lose you one day, at least I’ll get to keep the memories of waking up to you, of making you scream my name, of watching vampire movies with you, and the smell of cinnamon all over my house. But I was convinced you being with me wasn’t what was best for you, up until last night. That’s when I realized that you might need an unhinged man who’s willing to kill to protect you. And you might be the only woman who wouldn’t run to the police station after witnessing what I did last night.”
She releases a shaky exhale. “I don’t want you to ever have to do that again.”
“You’ll never have to see it again, even if I do.”
36
DOLLY
We get to the cabin the day before Thanksgiving. I just spent five blissful nights of sleeping in Sam’s bed, listening to him whisper dirty fantasies in my ear, and watching the entireTwilightseries with him. Every day, I baked him something new and brought him lunch out to the pasture around noon. I wore a different dress every time. He didn’t hide his approval for a second, and feeling his eyes on me without an ounce of restraint was a heady, addictive feeling.
I’m in heaven. The only thing missing is him labeling what we are. I never knew I’d be the type of girl who needed that, but I do. I really, really do.
When we pull up to the cabin in Jackson Hole, I gaze in awe at the winter wonderland laid out before us. The cabin is built into the side of the mountain, surrounded by towering pine trees and tall banks of fluffy white snow. The modern cabin is made of dark wood-stain siding and has a deep emerald metal roof, large black-framed windows, and a massive porch stretching out, built to overlook the snowy, tree-dotted valley stretching below.
We piled into two Escalades at the private airport we landed in after taking Monroe’s private jet to Wyoming. When we travel with her, we always take the jet, or she’ll be bombarded with fansat the airport. It’s become a much more normal feeling, but at first, we all felt a little awestruck.
Bonnie and Birdie squeal in delight when Holden lifts them out of their car seats and sets them free to explore. He trails after them. Cash walks up to the front door and punches in the code to get the key out of the box. Sam, Duke, and Sterling start grabbing the bags while Monroe, Rosie, and I wait for him to open the door. Pops follows after us. Once Cash gets the key out and twists open the knob, we file inside, where it’s thankfully already warm.
“I need to make sure the grocery delivery service sent everything,” Rosie says, stepping toward the kitchen.
Monroe and I follow. We all got together yesterday to order the food and have it delivered before we arrived. Monroe doesn’t cook, so she insists on paying the grocery bill and keeping everyone’s glass filled. She’s always entertaining to have around, and if I ask her to do something simple, like peel potatoes, she gladly will.
“Dolly, I’m dying here. We’ve barely heard from you! I needdetails,” she gushes, grabbing my arm with one hand and a bottle of merlot with the other.
I already know it’s the good stuff. This girl never skimps on the wine budget. The doctor released me to start drinking in moderation, but encouraged me to stick to mostly red wines or light beer, no liquor.
Rosie is tallying up cans of green beans, but she nods enthusiastically. “Agreed!”
I search the sleek black upper cabinets for wineglasses. This kitchen is monstrous, but I finally find them next to a row of open wooden shelves, lined with clear glass jars with seasonings, coffee beans, pasta, and coffee grounds.
“I have no idea what we are. He hasn’t labeled anything. He … we’ve been having sex, like, multiple times a day, and I’velearned a lot in the past five days. I’m … I mean, of course, I’m in love with him. But I don’t know where he’s at.”
Monroe pours three generous glasses so full that she uses the entire bottle. She hands Rosie and me each a glass.
“Has he said anything about making you his woman? Or making perfect little babies together?”
