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And that is why we don't kiss the wife we crave. Because this shit is not what she needs.
Fucking hell. I had to force myself to pull back. "This has nothing to do with not wanting you. I'm trying to keep you safe."
"Were you going to ask if I want to be kept safe from you, or were you just going to decide?"
I shrugged. "Sometimes we don't know what's good for us. I think this might be one of those cases."
I sat with her until she fell asleep again, all the while thinking of all the ways I could calm down my raging dick. I'd been without her for two weeks. I had bargained with every god I could think of just to let her live.
I’d made a million deals with the devil just to keep her safe. And now, she wanted to tempt fate? There was absolutely no way I was doing that. If I touched her, I wouldn't have the control I needed, and that would hurt her more. The way I saw it, I had already done enough damage.
6
Atticus
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Gwen as she fumbled with a bottle of nail polish. Her arm was wrapped in her sling, and she was trying to balance the tiny brush between her fingers, but it was clear she was struggling. I watched her for a moment longer, torn between stepping in to help and giving her the space she seemed to crave. Finally, I cleared my throat.
"What are you doing?" My voice came out rougher than I intended, but I couldn't help it. Every time I looked at her, all I could see was the moment she got shot, the blood, the panic.
Gwen glanced up at me and smiled, though I could tell it was forced. "I'm trying to paint my toenails," she said sweetly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I thought it might help me feel a bit more like myself."
The pang of guilt ripped through me. She was trying so hard to hold onto some semblance of normalcy, and here I was, hovering over her like a goddamn helicopter. I had been doing that a lot lately. Hovering, watching, waiting for something else to go wrong. I wanted to say something reassuring, but all I could think about was how close I came to losing her.
"We can call someone to do that for you," I offered, my tone more practical than comforting. It was an easy solution. Hire someone. Delegate the task. Keep her safe. But Gwen just shook her head, her smile fading slightly.
"With the security concerns, I assumed you didn't trust anyone," she said quietly.
Fuck.
She was right. I didn't trust anyone. Not after what happened. I was paranoid, constantly on edge, and it was affecting her too. I didn't want to admit it, but the fear that gnawed at my insides was consuming me. It was making me question everything and everyone. And it was pushing Gwen away.
I swallowed hard and nodded. "You're right. I don't trust anyone."
She sighed and went back to her task, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to unscrew the cap with one hand. I watched her struggle for a few more seconds before the tension became too much. I couldn't stand it anymore.
"I'll do it," I said abruptly.
Gwen looked up at me, surprise flickering in her eyes. "What?"
"I'll paint your toenails," I repeated, my voice firm. It was the least I could do. I owed her that much.
She blinked at me, clearly taken aback. "You don't have to?—"
"I want to," I interrupted. "Please, let me do this."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Okay," she said softly.
I took the nail polish from her hand and knelt down in front of her, gently lifting her foot onto my lap. My hands shook as I unscrewed the cap and dipped the brush into the polish. I couldn't remember the last time I did something so delicate, so intimate. I was used to handling contracts, weapons, making deals that could change the course of nations. But this? This was different. This was personal.
I carefully applied the polish to her toenails, concentrating on each stroke, making sure the coverage was even, that I didn't miss a spot. The silence between us was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was as if the act itself spoke volumes, more than any words could.
As I worked, I could feel the emotions bubbling up inside me, emotions I had been trying to suppress since the day she got shot. Guilt, fear, anger at myself for letting it happen, for not protecting her the way I should have. I blamed myself for everything. If I had been more vigilant, more cautious, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hurt.
I heard her sigh softly, and when I looked up, her eyes were on me, filled with a mixture of affection and concern. "Atticus," she began, her voice tender.
I shook my head, cutting her off. "Don't, Gwen. Don't try to make this better. I should have protected you. I should have seen the threat coming. I should have?—"
"Atticus," she said again, more firmly this time. "It wasn't your fault."
