The former SEAL slips out the door, and I take my first good look at the woman sitting on the bed next to me. The bright pink streak is a stretchy bandage wound around her head and over her left ear. Two black eyes, a deep gash on her cheek, bruises at her throat… “Shit, Raelynn. What did they do to you?”
“I could ask you the same question, darlin’.” She takes my hand, gently touching my swollen fingers and the red welts around my wrist. “But I don’t want to. Can I just…hold you for a while?”
Lying back, I let her snuggle against my chest. “I never should have left you,” she says softly. “If I’d stayed…”
Talking hurts, but I can’t stand the guilt in her voice. “No. You saved me. Fuck. You found my father and saved him too.”
She lifts her head and brushes a tender kiss to my bruised and split lips. When she pulls back, tears glisten in her eyes. “I love you, Nash.”
Hearing her say the words should make me the happiest man in the world, but instead, all I can think about is how I almost gave up in that warehouse. “Enzo told me his men had killed you,” I manage. Tightening my arm around her waist, I stare up at the ceiling to hide my shame. “When the fire started, I figured…that was it. We were going to die, and I…I didn’t care.”
“Darlin’—”
I shake my head and find the courage to look her in the eyes. “My dad said something about my ‘friends.’ Then my ‘girl.’ That’s when I knew I had to stay alive. I had to see you again so I could tell you…I love you too.”
Raelynn
The thick brace makes every step awkward as fuck, but all that runnin’ didn’t do me any favors. I’m getting a lecture from Doc Reynolds when we get back to Seattle. He said as much this mornin’ when he called to check in.
West dropped off some new clothes for Nash an hour ago, and I help him on with his t-shirt. More than a dozen cuts and twice as many bruises cover his torso, but he was lucky. A couple of bruised ribs, two dislocated fingers, and a mild concussion. In a few weeks, he’ll be good as new. Physically, at least.
I watched him sleep for hours before I lost the battle with my heavy eyelids and passed out with my head on his chest.
“You going to tell me what happened here?” he asks, skimming a knuckle over the soot-stained pink compression wrap.
“Discharge paperwork,” Graham says, poking his head into the room. “Nash is officially sprung.”
I step back, pulling my hair over my bandaged ear.
“Shit. I interrupted something. Sorry.” The youngest member of Hidden Agenda slips back into the hall, his cheeks flushing a dark crimson.
“Is he always that…?”
“Adorable? Yes.” At his wounded look, I take Nash’s hand and bring it to my heart. “He’s gay, darlin’. And even if he weren’t, you’re the one I love.”
I can’t kiss him the way I want. Not with his bottom lip split in two places. Or all our various injuries. Still, we’re alive. Together. If only the future didn’t have more questions than answers.
Graham pushes off the wall when we emerge. “Your dad’s awake, Nash. He’s one floor up. Elevator’s this way.” The young man sticks close—West’s orders, I’m guessin’—until we reach Angelo’s room. “I’ll be out here. Take as long as you need.”
“Do you want to go in alone?” I ask, though I keep a firm grip on his uninjured hand.
“No.” Nash glances through the small window in the door. His shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to say to him. He let me believe he was dead for twenty years. And…” He cups my cheek, his thumb skating just under my eye. “I almost lost you because of it.”
The raw emotion in his voice chips away at the tenuous control I’ve fought to maintain since he was taken. He’s not wrong. But in the end, Angelo was willing to do anything to save his son.
“He made mistakes, darlin’. And he knows it. I ain’t sayin’ he deserves a father of the year award, but give him a chance to explain.”
Nash holds my gaze for so long, I start to worry, but after a heavy sigh, he nods, and we walk through the door together.
“I never should have sent you away,” Angelo says, his voice weak and raspy from the smoke. “But I didn’t know what else to do. Duncan was convinced there was a mole in his office, so getting you out of the system was the only option.”
“But why didn’t you come with me?” Nash and I sit side by side in the hard plastic visitor’s chairs. I rest my hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. He listened as his father explained how he’d survived the shooting, the 911 call, and begging Duncan to keep Nash safe.
“My father forbade it.” Angelo’s shoulders slump, and his hand shakes as he clutches the thin hospital blanket to his chest. He’s weak, and a little loopy from the amount of morphine they’re giving him. “He insisted the only way he could stop Enzo DeLuca was with my help. He said he…needed me.”
Tears glisten in Nash’s eyes. “I needed you! And you sent me to live with a stranger. I couldn’t take anything with me except Mae’s little stuffed sloth, and the only reason Frank let me keep that was because I swore I’d run away if he didn’t.”
“Nathan—Nash—I’ll regret what I did for the rest of my life. But all I can do now is try to fix my mistakes.” He turns his gaze to me. “Your boss came to see me this morning. The big one with the scars.”
