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“I knew nothing of the sort until I went out there.”
“I could have gotten you killed. I was terrified when I heard that gunshot.”
He steps to me and rests his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t die easily, baby. Believe me, I don’t. I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re going to get answers from Edward and end this hell.”
“Are you sure he’s secure?”
“I drugged him and for a reason. I need sleep, and I need time with the woman I was supposed to call my wife, or she’ll never end up my wife. And don’t reply to that. I made a decision out there in the snow. I’m going to ask again. I’m going to convince you to marry me, even if I have to start all over again.” He kisses my hand. “Hungry?”
My heart is a little too happy with those words, considering how we got here, and my stomach is a ball of nerves. “How do we eat when we could be attacked at any moment?”
“We’re not going to be attacked at any moment.”
“But Edward’s behavior was odd, right?”
“He clearly has a death wish and is too much of a coward to do it himself.”
“But he called you in advance. You said he didn’t want to get his head blown off. I know you know that. Don’t coddle me. Don’t lie to me again. Not even to protect me. And clearly, I’m still angry.”
His hands settle on my waist. “No coddling. No lies. And you have every right to be angry. I don’t have one ounce of understanding as to what the fuck that was that he pulled here tonight. But I promise you, I will when he wakes up.”
“You can’t make him talk.”
“I can make him talk.”
“How?” I ask.
“He cares about a woman in Mexico.”
I swallow hard. “You’ll threaten her?”
“I’ll do what I need to do.”
“And he’ll believe you’ll hurt her.”
“Yes. He will.”
“I thought—”
“I won’t kill her. That’s not who I am.”
“But he believes you are?”
“Because it’s who he is. Baby, I’m a killer, but I’m not that killer. Why don’t we put a frozen pizza in the oven and eat? I know how you love frozen pizza.”
His understanding of my hate for frozen pizza reminds me of just how well he knows me. He gets me, but do I get him? It’s hard to process how we could be the same two people we were when he’s the person who threatens a life, and others believe he means business. “I don’t think I can eat.”
“I have peanut butter and jelly.”
“Hot chocolate? Maybe we can really drink it this time?”
“Hot chocolate it is,” he says, his voice hitching with worry.
A few minutes later, we sit down on the couch and stare at the fire, sipping our hot chocolates. Long minutes pass in silence, the kind of silence that’s always been safe with him. He feels safe, and it’s confusing. He sets his mug down and takes mine, turning to face me. “I know you’re scared.”
He’s right. I am. “I want this storm to be over. I want to leave this cabin.”
“And we will. As soon as the roads clear.”
