Fix It Up (Torus Intercession 3)

“No, don’t––”

“But things got bad because I was so lost. It turns out that even when you don’t want a home, you still need one. You want one, down deep, even if you don’t want to admit that to yourself. Grounding is a necessary thing that you never believe you need when other people tell you.”

He was staring into my eyes and gutting me with his words, his own eyes so soft, brimming with tears and adoration. “Then, honey, you should keep the––”

“I didn’t know how bad everything was until you created a home for me out of nothing, giving me a place to be.”

“Don’t you understand?” I replied softly. “I just pointed you in the right direction; you did all the hard work yourself.”

“But that’s the whole thing, right? Only for you would I have ever moved, changed course, done anything when asked.”

“No,” I reminded him. “You had to listen to your manager, or he would’ve––”

“And I would have just let it happen,” he told me, “and stopped caring about everything, and then that would have been the end of me.”

I was reminded of what my boss had said, to give myself more credit. “I don’t think––”

“But I do,” he said, exhaling deeply. “I know myself, and it was you, Loc. I took steps for you. I made different choices because you asked me and for no other reason.”

“I was doing my job.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But I also know that it changed.”

“What?” I snarled defensively. “It did not.”

“No?”

“I––”

“It had to have, because I feel different, and that comes from you.”

“You’re deluded.”

He grunted in agreement. “I am, about a lot of things,” he agreed. “But not you. You, like I said before, I see very clearly, and when I do see you, talk to you, touch you, I know everything will be all right. I’m good and solid and strong.”

I shook my head.

“So yeah, I need that ring on your finger now, and God help you if you take it off.”

“Nick,” I rasped. “Honey, I don’t belong to you, and I’m not gonna stay and––”

“You know when we were fighting before,” he said, his eyes glinting in the light coming from the windows above us. “You said you were going to leave as soon as we got home.”

“And I am,” I assured him.

He chuckled. “Baby, do you listen to yourself?”

“What?”

“You’re going to leave when we get home.”

“Yeah, that’s what I have to do.”

He snorted. “Loc, if home is where we’re going after this, and you called it that, then where the hell do you think you live?”

It took a second, because his closeness, the heat rolling off him, the way he was looking at me, the way the moon shone in his hair, he was a distraction. And then it hit me. I’d called his house, home.

Shit.

“But you can ruminate on that later.”

“Pardon me?”

His smile was brilliant as he leaned in and kissed me, hard and deep, his lips clinging to mine until he pulled back.

“Couple days ago I had this epiphany and––”

“What?”

His brows rose. “Do you not know what an epiphany is?”

“Of course I know what an epiphany is,” I yelled at him.

“I figured you did,” he teased me, kissing my cheek, under my ear, then along my jaw to my mouth, which he captured again, parting my lips savagely, possessively until I kissed him back, and then he settled, seemingly calmed by my giving in. His kisses became drugged, languorous instead of fierce and claiming. Hard to say which I wanted more.

When he lifted his lips from mine, his smile was radiant.

“We need to go in,” I whimpered. “I need water.”

“Okay,” he agreed, chuckling, bending over me again. “I just want one more kiss.”

It was so much more than one.

Twelve

When we walked inside the house, my mother was in the kitchen, yawning and stretching from her afternoon cat nap, pouring herself a glass of berry-infused water.

“I know, I know,” she told me. “I’m starting dinner right now.”

“I just want the water at the moment.”

“I’ll pour you a…” She trailed off, tipping her head, looking at me. “You’re covered in dirt, you know.”

I grunted.

“Why are you—come here, I want to talk to you,” she called over to me as Nick headed to the bathroom.

Crossing the room to the kitchen, I took the glass she’d poured and offered me, and nearly drained it before I came up for air. I noted the way she was studying me. “Whaddya want, Gidge?” I said, using the name.

“Oh,” she said with a sigh. “That was thoughtful.”

I shrugged.

She reached out and put a hand on my cheek. “Promise me you’ll come back soon. I’d like to see more of you.”

“You won’t get sick of me?”

“Not in the least,” she assured me.

“You just want free labor.”

“I do enjoy that, I’m not going to lie,” she said playfully. “But it’s your company that’s the real draw.”