I stop dead and glare down at her. “Problem?”
She shakes her head. “No problem.”
“Didn’t think so.” The mention of her father woke the monster. It’s digging trenches in my brain. Clawing to get out. Got me itching for battle. My fist wants to hit something. To shatter bone. I want to hurt someone the way she was hurt. To put that suffering on someone else.
After I help Jamie in the van, I step up behind her and settle her between my legs. When I wrap my arms around her, her body relaxes against mine. My God, she’s so frail, and here I am, all bulky and shit. I’m scared one wrong move and I’ll crack her in half. But then I remember she’s sturdy. Withstood storms that would have taken out most people. If she can get knocked down and somehow stand back up all those times, she can handle a big bastard like me.
And God, she smells good.
I loosen my arms, giving her the chance to move away. “I stink. You can sit over there.”
She hunkers in against me. “I like it here if you don’t mind.”
No, I for damn sure don’t mind. I give her a little squeeze. “It’s all good.”
Malice slides in behind the wheel. “If you’re done acting like we’re not in a hurry, I’d like to get the fuck home.”
Jester climbs into the passenger seat. “Malice is on his man-struation.”
“The stress has us all punchy,” Jamie adds as an excuse.
How very diplomatic of her. “Nah, Malice is just a grumpy motherfucker.”
And then we’re off up Interstate 95, putting more miles between us and Florida.
“Despite being a tyrant who makes my decisions for me, how are you feeling?” Jamie’s words are an intimate whisper.
“Better.”
She wriggles in my arms, positioning herself to face me. Her hand comes up toward my forehead. “You aren’t warm.”
“No shit.” I dodge her touch. “I’m fine.”
“God, Wraith, I was just checking.”
When she reaches for me again, I lace my fingers through hers and pin her hand at her side. “Fucking stop.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“Don’t play doctor.”
“Pardon me for being concerned.” Pantera’s “Cemetery Gates” whispers from the speakers. Malice and Jester might as well be a million miles away, with Jamie and me lost in our own world. “I’ve missed you.”
Fuck.
If I were standing, those three words would have put me on my knees.
I want to say it back because Ihavemissed her. Missed her too fucking much. I spent years driving myself crazy waiting for her to come home. Malice’s aggression toward her has nothing to do with her being Crane’s wife, and everything to do with my friends pulling me out of my funk after her Houdini act wrecked me. But, after what I’d survived, all that bullshit is water under the proverbial bridge. From this point on, there’s before Gomorrah and after Gomorrah. And the before years are a faded memory, lived by someone who no longer exists. He’s not dead, just no longer alive—if that makes any sense. That man, that guy, he’s not me anymore. Can’t be me because the suffering I endured did something to my brain, to the structure of my soul, that can’t be undone.
Still, I can’t say to back to her. The words die in my throat.
But I do say, “You don’t have to stay with me.”
Because I won’t hold her captive—for obvious reasons.
“I know.”
I’m staring at Jamie’s mouth, and as I lower my head for a taste of her lips…
