“And you don’t know where he is now?”
“No,” She lies, “He ran after Dean caught him.”
“But you haven’t called the police?” Shelly presses.
Sloane shakes her head.
There’s a long pause. “Good, let him rot wherever he is.”
Sloane’s brows shoot up. “What?”
“You think you know someone,” Shelly grumbles, “Then they turn out to be evil pieces of shit. I’m so sorry I didn’t see this sooner, Sloane.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sloane squeezes her hand.
“It’s really good to see you,” Shelly whispers to her sister, “I’ve missed you.”
Sensing the conversation is turning lighter between them, and Sloane deserving some alone time with the family she had to leave, I exit the room, heading toward the spare room where Lily is napping.
Sloane curls into me, her head resting in the soft spot between my shoulder and neck as her fingers trace lines up my abdomen. The bruising on her face is severe. A couple of cracked ribs and a broken nose that causes her problems, as well as the shallow cut on her throat. Every time I see her, I want to turn back time and kill him all over again.
But he can never hurt her again, he’s buried in an unmarked grave somewhere along the highway, erased from existence.
“What are you thinking about?” She whispers.
“That I almost lost you before I’d ever really had you,” I admit, staring toward the ceiling.
“Dean,” She turns her face to me, and I meet her eyes, flinching at the sight of those bruises on her face.
“Lily would have lost you too,” I say.
Her blue eyes bounce between mine, lips parting, but she doesn’t speak.
“And life would have ended for me.”
She jerks up and winces, but remains propped on her hands.
“Calm down, Butterfly,” I chuckle, “It just made me realize a whole lot. Stuff I already knew, I guess.”
“Like what?” She asks.
Lifting a hand, I stroke down the side of her face that’s not still swollen and bruised. “I want you to marry me.”
“What!?” She gasps.
“Marry me,” I repeat.
She sits up and stares down at me, “Dean.”
Rolling over, I reach into the nightstand and pull out the velvet box, and then sit up. “I hadn’t figured out how I wanted to do it yet.” I tell her, “But I also don’t want to wait.”
Her eyes widen as I pull open the lid to reveal the diamond surrounded emerald platinum ring.
“Marry me, Sloane. I never wanted love; I never saw it for myself until you.”
Her fingers gingerly whisper against the green stone in the center, “This is beautiful.”
“I need your words, baby,” I rasp.
