He glances down at himself again and grimaces.“Yeah.”
“I’ll help.”
His eyes heat for half a second before concern wins.“You’re exhausted.”
“I’m not suggesting anything fun,” I say, rolling my eyes.“I mean, I’ll help clean your cuts.”
“I heal fast.”
“And I love you, so let me take care of you.”
He freezes again.I’m starting to like the power those three words have over him.
Then he nods slowly.“Okay.”
We make it to the bathroom, and I help him wash the blood away.
It should scare me, watching red swirl down the drain.Some of it does.I’m not numb.I know tonight will come back to me in dreams.I know I’ll hear the van door slam in my head for a while.I know healing won’t be as simple as being rescued, but Cooper lets me touch him.Lets me clean the cuts that are already knitting together.Lets me fuss even though he could probably walk off a bullet wound.
Afterward, we crawl into bed.
Our bed.
My things are still scattered between rooms, the suitcase still open, the future still uncertain in so many ways, but Cooper pulls me against him, careful of my bruises, and I rest my head over his heart.
“I love you,” he whispers into the dark.
I smile against his chest.“I love you too.”
His arms tighten.
Outside, the woods are quiet again.The cult is gone, or close to it.The danger that chased me here has finally met something more dangerous than itself, and tomorrow, I’ll finish moving my things into Cooper’s room.
Our room.
Our home.
For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep believing that tomorrow is the start of something good.
It’s the start of forever.
11
Cooper
Five Years Later…
I wakeup with a tiny foot in my ribs.
Not Landry’s.Landry’s feet are currently tucked between my calves because she claims I’m “basically a furnace,” and marriage means she gets permanent access to my body heat.I have no problem with that.I have no problem with anything that keeps my mate close.
The foot in my ribs belongs to our daughter.Our three-year-old, wild-haired, stubborn-as-hell daughter, who somehow climbed into our bed in the middle of the night without waking either of us.That shouldn’t be possible.I’m a wolf shifter.I can hear a squirrel sneeze half a mile away, but Mia has inherited her mother’s ability to make me useless.
She’s sprawled sideways between us, one arm thrown over Landry’s stomach, one leg digging into me, her dark curls all over my pillow.She looks peaceful.Sweet.Completely innocent.
She is not.
Last night, she tried to convince me that cookies count as dinner because they have eggs in them.I almost agreed.Landry did not.
