She could see everyone together and know what it was like to truly be a part of a family. To be a part of something that would never let you go.
She was starting to understand that he would never leave, but he could sense that she was still unsure. He didn’t blame her, her past was full of people that had let her down.
But he wasn’t like that.
Never had been, and he wasn’t going to start now.
There had been a time when he didn’t think that he would ever settle down. That nobody would ever be able to deal with his shit, at least enough to be with someone like him. The life that he had lived, the things that he had done, it haunted him on the best of days.
When he had saved her, it had been the same thing. He had thought that he wasn’t good enough for her, no matter what Rosita had said. Now though he was starting to see it all differently.
He probably still wasn’t good enough for her.
A bastard like him, he didn’t deserve her.
But he wanted her.
And yes he loved her.
So he would fight for her, for them, till he was long dead and buried.
He stepped back out of her room heading for the kitchen to make some coffee. The early morning light was just starting to peak over the edges of the trees, and with the night that he’d had, he was going to need more than the one cup he had already had.
Making her one as well he carried them both back to her room. She was always an early riser, and it wouldn’t be long before she was up. He wanted to see how she was mentally before the day started.
Brave little bird.
Walking into the room he saw that she was already starting to wake. Her arms stretched up over her head, her blond hair all pillowed around her.
It was a look that he really liked.
“Morning, little bird.” She smiled at him, and he felt his heart thump.
The look on her face wasn’t one of hesitation or fear. It was one that he had never seen before.
One that he had spent the last year waiting for.
One that they both needed.
Peace.
***
He kept looking at her.
She was not so slyly peeking out from under her lashes at him, her steaming coffee in her hands. He had dragged a chair from the hallway into her room, sitting down next to her bed, while she sat leaning against the headboard.
While she had the windows out in front of her to look at, Mark had his back facing them. His eyes on her over his coffee cup. The look of concentration on his face was cute enough that she couldn’t hold in her smile.
The man was relentless.
He had brought her here to heal.
Had given her the time that she needed.
Gotten her into therapy so that she had someone to talk to.
He had helped her see that person inside of her that she wanted to be. One that wasn’t tied down by who she used to be, or who Ernesto had made her into.
