Chaos Remains (Greenstone Security 4)

I needed to yell, I needed to call to him but I couldn’t say anything around my hacking.

There was pressure at my wrist. A lot of it. To the point of pain. But I liked that. I needed it. A focus point. An anchor.

I knew who was giving me that gift of pain, and I relaxed, only slightly but enough so my coughing started to calm down.

Lance leaned forward, bringing my hand up to his mouth and laying his lips on it for half a second before his eyes met mine.

“Nathan is fine,” he said, knowing me, knowing exactly what I was trying to say. What my soul was screaming silently.

Everything in me relaxed, my heart began to slow down, I stopped gulping for air so desperately. Lance would not lie to me. If he said Nathan was fine, then there wasn’t a thing wrong with my little boy. He was safe.

My son is safe.

I chanted that for the entire time it took to get my breathing under control.

Lance watched me the whole time I did so, never breaking eye contact, never relieving the pressure on my wrist.

When I was done, breathing easily, he spoke again.

“I’m buyin’ you a ranch, goats and fuckin’ dogs,” Lance declared, forehead against mine. “And you’re not arguin’ about shit.”

I blinked. Multiple times. From the words underneath his words. The pain, the joy, the panic, the fear in his tone. “That’s a really weird thing to say to someone immediately after they become conscious,” I responded, my voice raspy and thick, like it had been after the fire.

He didn’t reply to that. “And you’re marrying me.”

I blinked again. My stomach dropped while my heart soared.

“I’m not having an argument about that either. We can have any kind of wedding you want, don’t give a fuck where it is, how many people come, if it’s officiated by a shaman—as long as the state of California recognizes that—all I care is that you’re marrying me.” He paused, not long enough for me to breathe through all the beauty he was giving me after some of the ugliest experiences of my life. “I’m adopting Nathan. As long as he wants that. As long as you want that. You want to wait, make sure I’m serious, give me time to prove I’m gonna stay, then we can do that.” He stroked my face. “I’ll prove to you, and Nathan, that you’re getting nothing less than forever with me. But at some point, I want that boy to be mine. I already consider him that. Love him. But I want it to be official. So it’s up to you, both of you when that happens. But it’s gonna happen. And we’re getting the ranch.” He paused, eyes shimmering. “You’re getting your dream, baby. No more nightmares.”

Then he kissed me.

Long, slow, tender. So unlike Lance. But at the same time, it belonged to this new, tender, vulnerable part of him.

I was not at all happy when he stopped kissing me, but I did realize that I was in a hospital bed, after almost drowning. I probably shouldn’t be making out with my boyfriend—I guess fiancé now, queue interior excited girly scream—in my hospital bed.

He didn’t move all the way back from me, just far enough so I could see his eyes, take in the face I’d been so sure I’d never see again. Emotions struggled for dominance in my body, the need to sob uncontrollably with happiness was probably going to win. I needed to hold it together, because Lance was looking at me expectantly, like he wanted some kind of response to some of the beautiful words any human being had spoken, like ever, even if they were spoken in his hard, ‘this is a forgone conclusion’ kind of way.

What did I say to that?

To the man who not only wanted to give me my dream, but was making it clear I was getting it, whether I liked it or not.

What did I say to him proposing marriage to me? To him wanting to make me his? More importantly, wanting to make my son his?

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice choked with tears.

He blinked. “Okay?” he repeated.

I nodded, because I didn’t trust myself to speak right now.

“To what?” he asked.

“All of it,” I said. “The dream.” I moved my hand upward to cup his face. “To you.”

He blinked again. Then a single tear trailed down his cheek. He pressed his forehead to mine once more. “Never been more afraid in my life, Elena,” he murmured, voice fractured. His strong man façade was falling. Cracking. I understood that he most likely had it firmly in place the entire time I’d been missing. He would have been purposeful, scary, badass.

But now, he was breaking apart. And he was doing it with me.

So I let him.