Page 150 of Wild Sanctuary

Her tiny feet are clean from the bath, and the cuts stand out even more starkly against her smooth skin. Cupping her left heel in my palm, I lift it gently, then pluck an antiseptic wipe from the kit.

“Sting comin’, baby.”

She nods, eyes staying on my hands as I dab the wipe across the worst cut on the arch of her foot. I work slowly, and as gently as possible, but she doesn’t flinch, even when I know it has to burn.

“You can complain, you know. About anything. I’m takin’ requests.”

Her mouth lifts at one corner, not quite a smile, but enough.

I lay a square of gauze over the cleansed cut, then unfurl a roll of gauze to start wrapping, keeping it snug. She slides her hand from her lap into the hair at the back of my head, leaving it there to comb her fingers through soft and slow while I finish up.

“You’re staying off these for two days. Three if I can help it. Anything you need, anything at all, you point. I fetch.”

A sound somewhere between a breath and a laugh escapes her lips, and I look up to find her watching me, amusement dancing behind her eyes.

“I’m serious. You walk on there tomorrow, I’m carrying you everywhere. Bathroom included. So decide what you want to do with that.”

“And here I thought I was the bossy one.” Her tone is dry as she quirks a brow.

“You can be the bossy one in this bed all you want. You were the last time, Daisy-girl, and I can’t say I minded.” A real smile lights her face, and I reach up to run my left knuckles down her cheek before palming the side of her neck. “But when it comes to keepin’ you in one piece, the boss is me.”

Her smile reaches her eyes, and I return a soft one of my own before I let my hand drop, and pick another antiseptic wipe up.

I move to her right foot, repeating the process just as slowly. By the time I tape the last edge of gauze down, her thumb is moving back and forth across my temple, brushing my hair off my brow with each pass.

Sitting back on my heels, I look up at her. She slides her hand out of my hair to palm my cheek, ghosting the pad of her thumb over the cut on my cheekbone.

“Thank you.”

I shake my head. “Don’t thank me, baby. Don’t ever thank me for this.” Then I push to stand, lift her off the bed. The damp towel loosens around her, and I let it fall to the floor, then lay her down on the cool sheet. She makes a small sound of contentment when her back finds it. My own towel goes before I climb in beside her.

After today, I need nothing between us.

She comes to me before I’ve settled. Her shoulder fits into the hollow of mine, her head goes under my chin, and her hand comes up to hover a fraction above the bruising across my ribs before she lets it land lightly.

I press my mouth to the top of her head and murmur against her damp hair, “Daisy-girl.”

Her response is a sleepy, “Mm.”

My arms tighten around her, ever so slightly. “No one will ever hurt you again. Not a man. Not a memory. Not one bad dream. Not while I’m breathin’.”

She lifts her head, and I can see her chin is doing the thing it does when she is trying to stay strong.

“I mean it, baby. Every word.”

“I know you do.” Her hand slides up from my ribs and settles flat over my heart.

For a moment, I just look at her.

Damp hair combed back from her face as the lamp catches the amber flecks in her eyes. The small bones of her shoulders bare above the sheet, while her hand rests warm and steady right over the place that has belonged to her for years.

Daisy Monroe is in bed with me, in the house where we met, here in Blackstone Creek. Her hand is over my heart, and she is looking at me like she has been waiting for me her whole life, when the truth of it is the other way around.

“I love you.” The words are out before I’ve even thought them and she stills on a sharp inhalation. “I love you, Daisy. I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve had the right to. I’ve turned every other way I could think of for the last six years to keep from sayin’ it out loud, and then this morning I almost lost you, and there isn’t a goddamn thing left in me that’s willing to keep quiet about it for one more day.”

A tear breaks loose down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb, dragging it across the freckles there.

“You walk into a room and the air changes. You’ve done that since you were twenty years old in a red dress, and I haven’t been the same man since. I have been yours, Daisy-girl. Whether you knew it or not. Whether I let myself say it or not. I have been yours.”