Page 180 of Ruthless Claim

Up close I can see the small cuts on her hands from the glass, the shadows under her eyes.

I wait for the familiar feeling of self-loathing to hit, but I’m surprised that instead of hatred for myself I’m relieved that it could have been so much worse.

I’m thankful it’s not.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, placing my hand over hers.

She glances at our joined hands but doesn’t pull away. “For what?”

“For all of it.” I turn to face her. My shoulder stings like a motherfucker but I don’t care. “For lying to you. For not trusting you. For calling you jealous and irrational when you were trying to protect us.” I take a breath. “For almost losing you because I was too proud to admit I was wrong.”

She’s quiet for a long moment and her fingers flex under my hand. “You covered me,” she says softly. “When the shooting started. You didn’t even hesitate.”

“Of course I didn’t.” Doesn’t she realize I would do anything to protect her, including sacrificing my own life?

She glances at me. “You could have been killed.”

“So could you,” I argue. “I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

She turns and looks at me fully. Her dark eyes are tired, but there’s also a resolve in them. “I was so angry at you,” she admits. “For weeks. I didn’t know if we were going to survive this.”

I can’t fight the flinch. I did that. “I know.”

“But when that window exploded and you covered me—” She stops, her throat moving as she struggles to vocalize her thoughts. “I realized that whatever mistakes you made, whatever lies you told—you—you love me. And you’d die to protect me.”

I nod. “In a heartbeat,” I tell her fiercely.

“That doesn’t make the lies okay,” she points out.

“I know,” I sigh. If she’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her.

“And it doesn’t mean I’m not still hurt,” she continues, further twisting the knife even though I know I deserve it.

I nod again. “I know that too.”

She moves her hand and laces our fingers together.

I look down at our joined hands, her small cuts and my bruised knuckles, and I think about how many times today I could have lost this and didn’t.

“But it means we have something worth fighting for,” she says quietly. “Worth saving.”

Weeks of tension seemingly release from my body, and it takes everything in me to not sag in relief. “So we’re okay?” I ask, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.

She gives me a small smile. “We’re not okay yet,” she says gently, playing with my fingers. “But we’re going to be. Eventually.”

I reach up with my free hand and push her hair back from her face, careful around the goose egg, tucking it behind her ear. She leans into it slightly, her cheek warm against my palm and my breath catches in my throat.

“Okay,” I say quietly, feeling like this is a sacred moment. “I can live with that.”

We eventually lay down in bed with her head on my good shoulder.

I pull her into me so she can lay her head on my chest, our legs tangling together.

She tucks herself into my side, arm around my waist, and I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in.

Claire Murphy is somewhere out there. Whoever hired her is watching and waiting and still holding cards I haven’t seen. Connor is furious.

Tomorrow there will be a hundred things to deal with.