She captured my hand, pressing a kiss to the palm. “Thank you.”
I smiled at her gesture. She wasn’t given to overtly sweet displays of affection. At least she hadn’t been before.
“Can you eat?” I asked. “Charly sent a casserole. It smells great.”
She hesitated.
“Please. You need to eat. Just a little. I need you strong.”
“I can’t believe…”
“What?” I asked. “You can’t believe what?”
“That you’re still here. I was sure…” Again, she trailed off.
“Sure I’d walk? Why? Why would I blame you for something that wasn’t your fault?”
She didn’t answer for a minute. “My mother blamed me all my life. Carl blamed me.”
“And they were both wrong. I’m not them. And none of this—those pictures, him drugging you—was your fault. It’s all on him. He is the guilty party here. All I’m concerned about is getting you stronger and helping you move past it.”
“I hope I can.”
“If he makes trouble, you have backup now. Me. Maxx. All of us.”
“Charly told Maxx?”
“Yes. He is almost as angry as I am.”
“She didn’t–she didn’t show him the pictures, did she?”
“No. And no one will see them. God knows I don’t want to.”
“I don’t want you to either. They make me feel ill.”
“My reaction would be slightly different.”
“What?”
I leaned over, cupping her face. “I would be furious that someone touched you without permission. Jealous as hell that a stranger knew how soft your skin was. I would want to rip him limb from limb for being part of such a despicable act.”
“I don’t remember any of it.”
I stood, pulling her up with me. “Good. I don’t want those memories in your head. Only good thoughts, Shutterbug. Me. You. Us together. That’s it.” I tugged her to the table. “Now, let’s eat.”
Her appetite was off, but I got her to eat a little. Drink some water and a cup of tea. She looked weary, and after we ate, I coaxed her back to the sofa, and she curled up with her head on my lap. I stroked her short hair, feeling her begin to lose the tension and relax.
“I love your hair,” I murmured.
“Really?”
“I like how sexy it looks on you. How soft it is when I touch it.”
“Carl once told me I looked like a boy.”
I snorted. “Carl’s an incompetent imbecile. His opinion means nothing.”
“My mom kept it short when I was a kid. She didn’t have much time for me, so it was easier. And I got used to it.” She laughed, the sound sad. “I mean, really short. Like a crew cut. I keep it a little longer now.”
I pictured her as a kid. Cropped hair, big, wistful blue eyes, scrawny, and sad. I hated that image as much as I hated the thought of seeing a picture of her with another man.
“I love it,” I repeated, running my fingers through the silky tresses repeatedly. She sighed, and her eyes drifted shut. She let out a long sigh as she slipped into sleep. I didn’t stop caressing her, wanting her to stay sleeping.
After a while, she shifted, rolling so she was tucked tight to me, her face buried into my stomach. I touched her cheek, and her hand fluttered up, grasping mine and holding it as she slumbered. I smiled in amusement at her. My phone vibrated, and I used my free hand to swipe up the message from Stefano.
Stefano: I heard. Are we hunting?
I typed back my reply.
Me: No. Protecting.
His reply was swift.
Stefano: Anything you need. Anything. You don’t even have to ask.
I didn’t have to reply. I knew what he meant. He understood what it meant when the woman you loved was in trouble or hurting. He would help in any way he could. He and Maxx, even Chase, would stand beside me.
I looked down at Kelly, nestled into me, trusting me. She had no idea how to ask for help. She expected nothing from anyone because that was how she had been treated all her life. The only person she could ever rely on besides herself was Charly.
That had changed now. And tomorrow would be the start of a new way of life for her.
And I planned on being part of that life.
I stood carefully, taking her with me. She didn’t stir as I carried her to her bed and tucked her in. I slipped off my jeans then reached for the light. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked panicked to find herself in bed.
“Brett?” she gasped. “No—please don’t go.”
“I’m not,” I assured her, sliding in beside her and tugging her to my chest. “I’m right here, Shutterbug.”
“Oh,” she sighed, patting me, already drifting back to sleep. “Good. Stay.”
“Not going anywhere,” I replied.
I pressed a kiss to her head. “And neither are you.”
“Okay,” she mumbled. “Okay.”
KELLY
The sun was barely rising when I woke up. I was warm and content. Wrapped in a pair of strong arms, the heat of Brett’s skin soaking into me. Carefully, I tilted up my head, peering at him. Asleep, he was relaxed, the tension he often carried in his jaw gone. He had a dimple in the middle of his chin you only saw when he smiled or when he slept. As if it knew only to come out during those times. His hair was a mess, the curls he tamed so ruthlessly appearing like his dimple in secrecy. The scruff on his jaw was lighter than his hair color, glinting gold in the early morning light.