I took his hand in mine. “Let’s make a pact … starting now, we learn from the past, but we stop living in it.”
His grip on me tightened. “I can do that.”
A sweet silence fell between us as we stared at our entwined hands. Then I admitted quietly, “I can’t sleep. I keep … seeing him.”
“Stay with me. I’ll hold you, watch over you.”
Nodding, I kicked off my boots and then slipped into bed. Fyfe removed his glasses, placing them on the bedside cabinet, and slid in beside me. Without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms like I’d always belonged there. I nestled against him, my good cheek pressed to his pecs, the warm weight of his hand comforting on my hip.
“Do you remember when we were kids and we all went camping? You let me stay in your tent, even though I was always making you uncomfortable with my flirting.”
Fyfe squeezed me. “I shared my tent with you because you made me laugh and you always made me feel like I was worth something. I shared my tent with you because I wanted you around.”
“Really?” I whispered, surprised, emotional too.
“I am done taking you for granted, Eilidh Adair,” he whispered in my ear. “I know the woman in my arms is the most extraordinary bloody woman I will ever have the good fortune of knowing. I promise to never let a day pass without making you feel as special as you’ve made me feel all these years.”
When I closed my eyes, tears slipped free. But they were good tears. A release. Relief.
All I could smell and feel was Fyfe.
Like the miracle I’d always thought he was, he held back my intrusive thoughts so blissful sleep could claim me.
Thirty-Three
FYFE
Lewis brushed his wet paintbrush over Callie’s nose and she squealed before chasing him with hers. Eilidh giggled at their nonsense, shaking her head before turning back to help me with the peel-and-stick mural.
It had been a couple of weeks since Peter Pryor’s attack. We’d postponed decorating the nursery because I wanted Eilidh to be a part of it, and I wanted her to feel comfortable in my home again.
Since her attack, a few things had happened.
The media descended on Ardnoch, attempting to hound Eilidh. Like always, Ardnoch rallied around one of their own and made sure the media felt so unwelcome, they fucked off onto the next big story only a few days later.
Walker shooting Peter had the bonus of apparently scaring the shit out of Cameron Phillips. He’d departed Ardnoch before his week was up. Lachlan, never one to let an abuser get away scot-free, was keeping tabs on Dr. Dick. He’d taken a job in Edinburgh. Lachlan had put him on the radar of a journalist down there who was, as we speak, digging up enough dirt to bury the bastard, at least under the scrutiny of public opinion.
As for Peter Pryor, although his attack on Eilidh took place in Scotland, many of the charges he faced had occurred in London, so he was transferred to jail down there where he’ll await his hearing in a few weeks. If the case goes to trial, and we’d been advised it most likely would, Eilidh would have to face the bastard again in about four or five months. We’d deal with that then.
Millie was almost eleven months old. HerAe’s were definitely an attempt to sayEilidhand best of all, a week ago she’d started calling meDada. I doubt I could ever articulate how it felt to hear my child’s first word. Or for that word to be the word that described her attachment to me. The magnitude of it wasn’t lost on me. Though I was still scared shitless about somehow finding a way to mess up my kid, I felt a little more confident now that I could be a good father to Millie.
My daughter had settled into daycare with Regan’s team, and we’d found a routine together. Lewis’s aunt Eredine was happy to watch Millie and Harley twice a week in the evenings so I could return to instructing my tae kwon do classes that Lewis and Callie also attended.
Eilidh had returned to writing, but I knew she stopped by the daycare for hours to see Millie, which was probably why Millie had adjusted to the change so easily. Easing Eilidh into returning to my house was a process. We’d been meeting up at Callie and Lewis’s for dinner a few nights a week or catching up for a coffee in the village.
Last week, she agreed to have dinner at my place. Callie and Lewis were there with Harley to offer support. Eilidh had been tense, pale-faced, and I’d regretted suggesting it. However, she told me she didn’t want Peter to taint a place she’d grown to love.
I loved that she’d grown to love my home.
It kept my hope afloat that despite the lack of romantic progress between us, a future together still hovered on thehorizon. I was taking it slow because she’d been through so much.
Yet looking at her now, her bruises all healed up, a smile curling her soft mouth, olive skin aglow with health as she helped me decorate my daughter’s nursery … well, it took everything within me to not order Callie and Lewis out of the room.
Eilidh’s dark curls were piled on top of her head, a few falling onto her cheeks as she moved. She wore a tank top beneath cotton dungarees. It shouldn’t be a sexy outfit, but the tank was short on her and I could see flashes of smooth tan skin. I could slip through the gaps on either side and cup her delicious arse in my hands.
I swallowed hard and returned my focus to the mural.
My need for Eilidh had grown into this hunger I’d never experienced before. I’d had time to think on why, and I assumed it was a mix of impatience to be with her now that I’d finally pulled my head out of my arse. But maybe also to quiet the guilt that had plagued me since Peter attacked her in the house I’d sworn she was safe in. Every time I thought about how close I’d come to losing her, I felt frozen to the bone. I was eager to claim her, not just so we could start our lives together with Millie, but to reassure myself she was alive, that she was mine, and that I’d be there to protect her going forward.
