“You’re turned on by violence now?”
“I’m turned on by you.” He met my eyes. “The controlled violence was a bonus. Very primal. I wouldn’t mind caveman Derek throwing me over his shoulder.”
I laughed, and it hurt, but I didn’t care. “Noted.”
“You should get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The promise made something warm bloom inside my chest. “Ok. See you tomorrow. Goodnight, snowdrop.”
“Goodnight, Derek.” He hesitated, then added, quieter: “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.”
He ended the call, and I lay there in the dark hotel room, my face throbbing, my body exhausted, smiling like an idiot at the ceiling.
I was falling for him.
Hard and fast and completely.
36. Derek
Théo was on his iPad when I got back from my appointment.
Dr. Flores—Gabe—had bonded my chipped tooth and given me a temporary flipper for my missing tooth and it felt weird in my mouth. Foreign. My tongue kept prodding at it, testing the edges, trying to convince my brain that it belonged there. The socket was still sore but I could tell it was better than the day before. The swelling had gone down slightly, though the bruising had bloomed into spectacular shades of deep purple and sickly green.
It certainly looked worse today than yesterday, judging by Théo’s expression when I walked through the door.
He dropped the iPad onto the couch cushion and rushed over, but Aspen beat him to it, scrambling off his dog bed to demand my attention with enthusiastic tail wags and happy whines. I let my suitcase roll to a stop and bent down to give him some pets, scratching behind his ears while he tried to lick every inch of my face he could reach.
“Easy, Aspen. Daddy’s face is tender,” he scolded gently.
When I straightened up, Théo was right there, his eyes roaming over my injuries with barely concealed distress. I wrapped a reassuring arm around his waist and pulled him close. He was trembling slightly—so subtle I might have missed it if we weren’t pressed together.
“It looks worse in person,” he said quietly. He reached up like he wanted to touch my face but thought better of it, his fingers hovering an inch from my jaw.
I grabbed his hand and placed it on the uninjured side of my face. “This side’s fine. See?”
He gently stroked my stubbled cheek, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. I leaned into his touch, letting my eyes fall closed for a moment. I’d missed him. A week felt like a lifetime.
It wasn’t just the distance. I’d been on road trips before—longer ones, harder ones. I’d been away from Mackenzie for weeks at a time and never felt this pull to get back. I’d counted down the days, sure, but more out of routine than longing. More because that’s what you did when you had someone waiting.
This was different.
This was texting him from the bus and smiling at my phone like an idiot. This was FaceTiming from hotel rooms just to see his face. This was lying awake in unfamiliar beds and wishing he was there to steal the blankets.
I’d spent ten years in a relationship and never once felt the weight of absence like this.
“I missed you,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
His hand stilled on my cheek. “You saw me yesterday. On the phone.”
“Not the same.”
“No. It’s not.” He was quiet for a moment, eyes roaming my battered face.
“Aspen,” Théo said solemnly, glancing down at the dog who was now sitting at our feet, watching us with his head tilted. “We have to be good boys this week. Daddy’s hurt.”
I smiled and it hurt less this time. Progress. I wanted to kiss him but that would probably be ill-advised—my lip was still split and swollen, and the last thing I needed was to reopen the wound.
