“But…” I want to find this woman and tell her how stupid she was. Except…if she’d stayed, this amazing man wouldn’t be here with me.
“Some people aren’t meant for one another, darlin’. I changed. She didn’t. I forgave her a long time ago. And she forgave me, too. We talk once a year or so. She remarried. Has two kids and her own yoga studio out in Framingham.”
There’s a knock at the outer door of the suite. “Room Service!” a female voice calls.
“I’ll get it.” Scrambling out of the tub, I reach for the fluffy white robe hanging on a wall hook.
“Evianna. Tell them to wait. Don’t open the door without me.” His command stops me in my tracks, and the reality of where we are—and why—hits me.
“O-okay,” I stammer, then duck my head into the main room. “Just a minute, please.”
By the time I get back to the bathroom, Dax has a towel wrapped around his waist. Water glistens all along his sculpted chest, and I wonder if he has any idea just how sexy he is—scars and all.
“There’s a robe. Here.” Handing it to him, I let my fingers rest on his for a breath longer than necessary. “I’m sorry about…Lucy. But…Dax?”
His eyes shimmer behind his glasses, and he presses his lips together in a thin line.
“I know who you are. And I’m here. With you. For as long as…for as long as you’ll have me.”
Another three raps on the door force us apart, and Dax shrugs into his robe, then takes my arm so I can lead him back into the main room. Before he opens the door, he tips my chin up so I can look into his pale blue eyes. “You’re…my light, Evianna. I don’t know how else to say it. You…chase some of the darkness away.”
27
Evianna
I rearrange our food, dividing up the sandwich and steak between us. Dax feels around the edges of his plate, and I stop with a wedge of club sandwich partway to my mouth. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. The sandwich is at nine o’clock. Steak at three. Fries are on the plate between us. Um…two o’clock.”
He swallows hard. “Thanks.”
“You hate asking for help, don’t you?”
Picking up the steak knife, he uses his fork to find the strip of meat, then starts cutting. “With something as simple as eating? Yeah. How many people do you know who can’t manage to get food from their plate to their mouths?”
When I force the bite of sandwich down, I clear my throat. “My mom can’t.”
He freezes, then turns slowly to face me. Waiting.
“She has ALS. She’s bedridden, can barely speak, and while she can still swallow—for now—most of her meals are through a feeding tube. When I visit her, I usually bring her a chocolate milkshake, and if I spoon feed her, she can manage a small amount of it.”
“Fuck, Evianna. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. She’s…in Boston?”
I pour us both some wine, needing the distraction. “Yes. There’s an excellent long-term care facility in Watertown. Close enough I can usually manage to see her every couple of days.”
“You’ve been with me since Monday, darlin’. It’s almost Friday. Won’t she be worried?” Dax returns to slicing the steak, but his movements are more deliberate now. Calmer. And some of the anger I sensed when I described his plate has faded away.
“We email. She knows about Alfie’s launch, and I promised her I’d see her this weekend.” Risking a glance at Dax, I ball my hands into fists, unsure I want to hear his next response. “I can go in the evening. So Ronan can take me. Or Vasquez. If…you want…”
The knife clatters to the table, and Dax has my hands in his before I register the movement. “I can’t protect you alone, Evianna. But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you out of my sight—you know what I mean—until we know who’s after you and stop them. And…if it’s okay…I’d like to meet your mom. I…I’m with you too, darlin’. I should have said it before. I’m with you too.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I choke back a sob. “I didn’t realize how much I needed…” Burying my face in the soft terry of his robe, I let myself break, knowing with him at my side, I can find a way to put myself back together.
Half an hour later, the dishes set outside the door, I plop the answering machine down in front of me. “All right, Kyle. Let’s see just how much of a movie buff you are.”
“Huh?” Dax furrows his brow, a stack of the notebook pages in his hand.
“Sneakers was like…the geeky movie of the 90s. Robert Redford, Sidney Poitier, David Strathairn, Dan Aykroyd, Ben Kingsley…oh, and River Phoenix. You never saw it?”
“No. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up. Movies…well…I saw Jurassic Park and Independence Day…that’s about all until I was in college.”
