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“I am.” His answer felt like it held a secret.
And I almost took a stab in the not-so-dark room, asking if that had anything to do with me.
But then his arm stretched around me and pulled me in.
“Watch your stitches,” I whispered, our mouths close.
“They’re fine. Let me have this.” His fingers tapped his chest, encouraging me to use him as a pillow. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
His chest rose and fell beneath my head, the rhythm of his steady heart in my ear.
I looked up at him, his face cast in shadows. “I didn’t think you’d be one for cuddles.”
“Only with special people.”
“I like cuddles, too.” A tear landed on his chest before I could brush it away.
He didn’t question me about the tear. He wouldn’t know it was for young Callie, who’d clung to me for comfort after her nights with Rothbart. He wouldn’t know the one that followed was for the life I’d taken in self-defense.
Remi’s arms tightened around me, his muscles flexing, and it felt nice to feel safe for once.
“You can cry tonight, my girl, but tomorrow will be a better day. A fresh start for us both, where the past stays in the past.”
I nodded, my hair tickling his jaw and causing rushing fingers to his face.
Another one of my tears fell.
Remi still didn’t ask questions.
He wouldn’t know that tear was for him and for all the time we’d missed.
Chapter 11
Remi
Ollie’s shiny shoes carried him through my room.
“Hey. . .I hate to wake you because I know you don’t ever fucking sleep, but I need you up. I’m sorry.”
He pulled back the black satin sheets, expecting the body below them to be me.
But it wasn’t, and he quickly reeled backward, his fingers covering his eyes to avoid seeing a bit of thigh.
Nothing else was on show. Cat had slept in my hoodie.,
And I liked that the hoodie was long enough to hide her intimate area because I’d neglected to give her a pair of boxers.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he had company. My apologies.”
Cat pushed herself up on the bed, sweat sticking her hair to her pretty face. Her expressive eyes found me in the doorway to the bathroom before Ollie’s did. Luckily, a white T-shirt hid my gash from his stare.
“Morning, beautiful.” The words ran out of my mouth, dodging around the buzzing of my toothbrush before I even had time to alter them.
Cat simply swallowed, watching my every move as she tucked the blankets around her legs. Her gaze briefly darted to Ollie, weighing up the threat he was, and he did look threatening at six foot two inches, with muscles bulging under his fancy suit.
I was taller by a few inches, but he was wider, and he didn’t have the cocky attitude that surrounded me. His face was always stern, always so serious.
His head turned, weighing her up, too, noting the skinny frame and the sunken eyes, asking me—no, begging me—to keep the promise I’d made eight years ago.
