Rocking back on my heels, my gaze sweeps across Bea’s body one more time. “You really are gorgeous. You know that, right?”
I can tell Bea wants to argue, even though I tell her that all the time. A small part of her still thinks she’s flawed, a lingering aftereffect from those assholes who made her feel like less because of her implants.
But Bea’s not less. She’s more.
She’s stronger because of what she’s been through. She’s more compassionate. And she’s one of the most determined people I’ve ever met.
That’s why she insisted on living in her own apartment in Newberg instead of moving into Blade and Arrow with me. I wanted her to. And I’ll admit, I asked her more than once during our road trip across the country if she’d reconsider.
Because selfishly, I wanted her with me. The plan we discussed pre-Mack and Greg sounded good in theory, with Bea giving herself time to deal with her fears on her own instead of relying on me.
But in reality, it made me feel sick. Bea alone in her apartment without me there to protect her? Not there to comfort her after a nightmare? Not there to check the windows and doors to make absolutely sure the security system we installed was working properly?
I hated the idea. Hated it.
But part of loving someone, I discovered, is letting go of them sometimes, even when it’s the last thing you want to do.
Bea wanted to feel like the strong woman she used to be. And selfish desires aside, I knew I had to let her do it.
So after our road trip—which went even better than I hoped, and by the end of our visit with Bea’s parents, her dad even called meson—we moved Bea into an apartment in Newberg, a torturous fifteen minute drive from B and A.
Well. More like ten, if I really push it. Which I don’t in normal circumstances. But just in case… I wanted to know how quickly I could get to her.
I stayed with Bea the first week in her new place, helping her get settled in, but the second week I moved back to my apartment here. And it was hard. Really hard.
The first night I left her alone, I ended up sitting in my car outside her apartment all night, just in case she needed me.
And that first week she was living on her own, I barely slept, my dreams replaced by nightmares that Bea was in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect her.
Then I had to go away for a job in San Francisco for four days, and that was even harder.
Not just for me, but for Bea, who ended up staying at B and A and having a sleepover with Eden, because having me hours away was too much for her.
But it’s like Bea said. Sometimes the best decisions are the hardest ones.
So we both pushed through. I spent the night at Bea’s apartment three or four times a week. We went on dates. We took day trips to Mount Hood and Vancouver and into downtown Portland so Bea could get to know the city. We got to spend time together like a normal couple instead of constantly looking over our shoulders for danger.
Okay. Bea did. I had to keep an eye out. After everything that happened, I don’t think I’ll evernotbe on guard.
And then two weeks ago, Bea told me she was ready to move in together.“If you still want me to,” she amended. “If you need more time, I understand. But I’m ready whenever you are.”
I was ready.
And with the help of my teammates, I had Bea moved into the B and A the next day.
Now we live together. My apartment—no,ourapartment—looks more like an actual home than just a place to sleep and watch TV. We have color schemes in each room with matching curtains and rugs. Bea’s cooking gear has taken over the kitchen. I wake up with her cuddled against me and when I don’t have a meeting, we usually start the day off with sex. If it’s a weekday, I’ll head to the gym to start my workout while Bea heads off to her new job at a physical therapy office in Newberg.
Which I fully vetted, for the record. Tyler ran extensive background checks on all the employees. And wemighthave snuck over there late one night to install some extra security,because when it comes to Bea’s safety, I’m not takinganychances.
There shouldn’t be anything to worry about. I keep reminding myself of that. Mack and Manny are both in prison, where they’ll stay until at least their eighties. Greg is serving a lesser sentence, helped by his father’s connections. But when he does get out, we’ll be keeping a close eye on him.
Bea feels sorry for Greg. But I don’t. He tried to kill the woman I love. He was lucky to get off as easily as he did.
“You’re the gorgeous one,” Bea replies with a smile. “Now. Let me out of these so I can go make breakfast. We have—” She glances at the clock on the bedside table. “Three hours until your mom’s supposed to arrive in Portland. And I’d like to clean the apartment before she gets here.”
As I unfasten the cuffs, I press a soft kiss to each of Bea’s wrists. “The apartmentisclean. I did the bathroom last week. And I know you cleaned the kitchen last night after dinner.”
Bea sits up and pulls the sheet around her. “That’s not mom-clean,” she says. “That’s regular clean. Moms have a special ability to see dirt. And since it’s the first time I’m meeting her in person, I want to make a good impression.”
