"You don't have to say it back," he says. "I just needed you to hear it. Because you've been sitting in this house for two years thinking you're temporary, and I need you to know you're not."
A sound tears out of me. Raw and wrecked.
"I love you." The words come out broken and sure. "I love you so much it scares me. I've loved you since you put yourself between me and those men in the parking lot, and I didn't even know your last name." His forehead drops to mine. We breathethe same air. "This isn't temporary," I whisper. "Tell me this isn't temporary."
"This is permanent." His hands frame my face. "You're my wife. You're mine. Tomorrow we're going to sit down with Malachi and give him every name you have. Every detail. Every piece of that map you've been carrying alone."
My stomach lurches. "They'll hate me."
"They won't."
"Malachi's been building this case for months, and I've been sitting on information that could have—"
"When he hears why, he'll understand. The same way I do." His thumb wipes a tear off my jaw. "You were protecting yourself. Now let us protect you."
I nod. Barely. But I nod.
He shifts, easing us until his back is flat against the wall and I'm curled in his lap, face tucked under his jaw. He reaches to the side, snagging the throw blanket off the end of the couch and pulls it over us both.
"This is going to wreck your back," I mumble against his throat.
"Don't care."
"You will at 5 a.m."
"I'll care at 5 a.m. Right now I care about this." His arms tighten. "Stay."
"I'm staying."
"Good."
The house settles around us. The heater kicks back on. A car passes outside, headlights sliding across the ceiling and gone. My eyes are swollen and burning. Throat is raw. My body feels hollowed out.
But his heart beats steady under my ear. His hand moves through my hair. His breath is warm against the top of my head, and the arm around my back hasn't loosened once.
Tomorrow will be harder. Malachi. The club. The names. The questions I'll have to answer again, without Knox's arms around me, under fluorescent lights, with people who may not forgive as fast.
But that's tomorrow. Tonight, Knox knows everything. And he's still here. Still warm. Still mine. I close my eyes and let his heartbeat carry me under.
Chapter 30
Sloane
Icomebacktomyself in pieces. I feel weight first. Solid and warm under my cheek, a wide chest rising against my palms. Then the drag of breath over the crown of my head, steady as a metronome. An arm is cinched around my waist, heavy enough that for a second my body thinks I'm pinned.
I keep my eyes closed while my brain scrambles to catch up.
There's a rug under my hip. Blanket twisted around my legs. The faint smell of coffee from yesterday clinging to his shirt along with detergent, warm skin, and Knox.
Then the rest slams in.
The way my voice shook as I told him everything. Anna on the table. My father's hand on my shoulder. The word sold. The tasteof copper and panic. Knox's arms around me on this floor, not letting go. His voice rough and fierce as he said he loved me.
My eyes fly open.
Pre-dawn gray washes over the living room, making everything look softer than it is. The lamp we never turned off throws a tired circle of light over the coffee table, catching empty mugs and the abandoned tissue box. The throw blanket is half on us, half on the rug. My cheek is pressed directly over his heart, the thump-thump beating against my skin.
I hold still.
