While pretending tears aren’t close to wetting my cheeks, I cover his hand with mine, holding it hostage to my chest before wordlessly thanking him for everything he’s done. This crewwasn’t the syndicate that has Kendall, but he gave thirty-eight families closure. He freed them from a pain that’s sometimes worse than grief. They don’t have to wonder anymore. Now that they have answers, they can start to move forward.
Crew and I can’t do that yet. We’re still stuck in this debilitating spiral of not knowing. We will find answers. I know we will. I just need to keep karma’s balance sheet even, and I know the perfect way to do that.
“Cameron called the driver during my attack. That’s why we were still in the alleyway instead of on the freeway.” I loathe defending this woman at all, especially to Grayson, but morals don’t allow a smidge of discrepancy. “She tried to talk him out of taking me. She said that she believed you when you said you loved me, and that it would only make matters worse for them since you wouldn’t stop until you found me. She said you’re always super protective of your little projects.” I take a breather before continuing. “He ignored her warning.” Pride swells in my chest, squashing some of the unease sitting there. “That was the second time he underestimated someone solely because of their gender.”
My response to his denial of Cameron’s suggestion occurred so fast that even with the memory fully formed in my head, it is still a blur. I was barely conscious after being dragged down the alleyway by my hair, the driver too furious about the loss of two members of his crew to act nonchalantly. He threw his fist into my stomach, folding me in two, before he told the elderly lady to find her own way out of the mess she had apparently created.
When he kicked me, I groaned, and her cries for him to return and free her were lost.
“How the fuck didn’t you go down after that hit?” He sneered as he shoved me into the SUV’s back seat, which was parked in a loading zone. “Not only did you get back up, but you alsokilled Samuel before taking off after my mother, who ran like a coward.”
His disrespect for his mother immediately made me defensive. If a man doesn’t respect his mother, he doesn’t respect anyone. I was as good as dead.
I fended off a man pointing a gun at me by kicking him in the face. The cardboard lining a homeless camp didn’t cushion my fall, but it hardened my knuckles in preparation for a fight.
That time, I landed a few hits before the driver smashed my head into the open rear door. It stole the air from my lungs as ruefully as a tire wrench rocketed my brain against my skull, and it kept me down long enough to both surveil the area and overhear Cameron’s call.
The equipment at my feet announced my son would survive the night, but my life was never up for negotiation.
I’d almost accepted my destiny, but the driver’s mocking laughter at Grayson’s next seventeen years of misery reignited my will to fight.
Quicker than he could blink, I removed a relic gun from the hip of the goon next to me and fired it at him. He didn’t die immediately. Sometime between the multiple misfires I aimed at the driver’s head, and me using the butt of the gun to strike the driver across the temple firm enough to render him unconscious, he flung open the door of the SUV and crawled three feet before he eventually succumbed to his injury.
I had only recently regained ownership of my bureau-assigned weapon when Grayson arrived on the scene. You know everything that happened after that, and so does Grayson. The pain in his eyes when he stares at me announces the alleyway was as wired up as Cameron’s apartment that night. He knows everything—including how I spied on his fight with Cameron. He doesn’t appear angry, though. Actually, he looks relieved.
His voice croaks with emotions when he whispers, “You scared the shit out of me, freckles. I thought I had finally run out of genie wishes.” His laugh is unhinged. “But I still begged. Right there, in the ICU with your blood on my hands, and my heart in my throat, I begged you to come back so I’d have the chance to tell you I love you in person instead of you only hearing it through a device.”
His thumb strokes my cheeks, which are stained from remembering how I felt when he didn’t deny Cameron’s accusation that he loved me, before he upholds his pledge like life is too short to waste a single second.
After how much time we’ve had stolen from us, it is.
“I love you, freckles.”
Hearing it again is just as good, if not better than the first time. You can’t deny the honesty in his tone this up close and personal, so I won’t bring up the sheer admiration in his eyes as he looks down at me.
He loves me.
Grayson Rogers loves me!
I squeal like a child before sharing words I haven’t spoken to anyone in thirteen long years. “I love you too.” I smile through the tears I can’t stop shedding. “I have for a long time.”
His surprised expression is funny.
How could he not understand his appeal?
Remembering the driver and Cameron’s hateful words that night strikes my heart with pain. If he watched the footage, then he heard every horrible lie.
“There’s no shame in loving someone who doesn’t know how to love you back, Grayson. Giving someone that level of love and respect and expecting nothing in return is the most selfless act there is. You’re not demanding time they can’t promise to devote solely to you. Being happy to acceptanypart they can share untilthey can give you more is love. That is true love, and it is worth treasuring.”
My last three sentences resonate more with his relationship with me than with Cameron, but I’m glad I couldn’t hold them back when they clear away some of the hurt in Grayson’s eyes.
I love this man. I just don’t know how to love him the way he deserves to be loved. So much of my time and focus is on bringing Kendall home that everyone else only gets a part of me. They never get all of me.
I wish that were enough, especially for this man, but I also understand that he may need more.
“But I know what I’m offering may not be good eno?—”
“Don’t,” Grayson interrupts. “Don’t you dare try to make out that you’re not worthy of being loved because you selflessly place everyone else first. You are worthy, Mace. You are so fucking worthy. Nothing you could say or do will change how I feel about you.” His absolute certainty makes my heart burst. “I love you, and that’s all that matters. I’ll love you when you crawl into bed at two a.m. because your report took longer to compile than you ever thought possible. I’ll love you when your hair is gray and your face is full of wrinkles.” He takes a moment to leer at my worry that that is closer than he realizes before he continues. “And I’ll love you even when I’m exhausted because our son keeps me awake at all hours of the night with the demands of his ravenous tummy.”
