Then she’d kissed him, and it felt like she was absolving him of all his faults and failures.
And yet still …
“Talk to me,” Nikki pressed, taking his hand and tugging him to one of the small couches that dotted the mezzanine, serving as cozy reading nooks.
“What time is it?” He’d tried to sleep, but had given up at least an hour ago. He’d stayed in bed for a while, simply watching Nikki breathe, so thankful that she was there beside him, and still fighting the fear and darkness that lingered from the reality of how close she’d come to being taken from him.
He’d finally gotten up, then gone to the girls’ room and pressed gentle kisses to each of their foreheads before coming down here, as if there was some sort of solace he could find in his memories.
“Almost three,” she said. “Come back to bed.”
“Not yet.”
She studied him, then nodded before settling on the couch beside him, still holding his hand. She kissed his fingertips.
“Did I fail her?”
The question had been weighing on him for days.
“Fail her?” Her brow furrowed. “Richter failed her. And Breckenridge killed her. All you’ve ever done is help her.”
“I took her virginity.” Grief and self-loathing washed over him.
“And you think that caused this?”
He shuddered. “I took her innocence so that Richter wouldn’t. And I killed him—I let him die—so he wouldn’t whore her out. I tried to save her. And I wonder if I only made it worse.”
“No. You know that’s not true. I know you’re hurting. But you’re not a stupid man, Damien. Don’t start acting like one.”
He flinched. Her words were harsh, but they were also true.
“I know. I’m feeling sorry for myself. For her, too.”
“I get that. But you’ve spent your whole life helping her. It’s not you, it’s her. And she broke a long time ago. Maybe she was simply sick, or maybe Richter broke something inside her. Maybe both. But you never harmed her. Just the opposite. You’re the reason she had moments of clarity. And maybe that makes it harder, because you saw her potential.”
He rubbed his temples, believing her words, but not yet feeling their power.
“Damien, look at me.” Her expression, both fierce and loving, captured him. “Sofia would be alive right now if it wasn’t for me. We both know it.”
He sat perfectly still, and she was right. He couldn’t deny it.
“So tell me the truth—do you blame me?”
He flinched, her words hitting him like a physical slap. “What? Nikki, what are you even—”
“Do you blame me?”
“Blame? God, no. Never.” He frowned as he focused on her, ignoring everything but the need to make sure Nikki understood that none of it—not one single moment of everything they’d been through—was her fault. Blame her? The idea was absurd. And he told her so.
“I believe you,” she said, her voice as soft as a rose petal. “But if you understand that, then you have to know that you can’t blame yourself either.” She reached out, gripping his upper arms as she earnestly held his gaze.
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” she continued. “Not really. It was just inside her. There was darkness there, and she fought it all her life. Sometimes she even battled it back. I think you helped her the most in keeping it down. And the other day, she fought hard enough to save me. And, Damien, she was there to save me because you saved her.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I really have been feeling sorry for myself.”
“You need to grieve, I get it. I just don’t want you to drown in it.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” he said, tugging her onto his lap. “Not with you around to save me.”
Her eyes moved as she studied his face, her lashes damp with tears. “Always,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.
And then, surrounded by his memories, he pulled her close, stripped her bare, and made love sweetly and slowly with his wife.
Epilogue
Damien stood barefoot in the surf, watching as the ashes floated on the wind before finally settling on the golden-dappled waves. In the distance, the sun sank toward the horizon, casting the sky in shades of purple and orange. This was Sofia’s favorite time of day, and as he put the lid back on the now empty urn, Damien voiced a silent goodbye to his friend.
“She loved you as best she could,” Nikki said, her voice as soft as the gentle breeze.
“You always saw her clearly.”
“And you saw her through the eyes of love and family. You didn’t fail her. She was a screwed-up woman, but she was a lot less screwed up than she would have been if you hadn’t been there all those years to help her.”
“I know. I do.” He kissed her hand. “I know it, and you helped me to believe it, too.”
“But?”
He laughed at his wife’s perceptiveness. “And yet in so many ways, I was her albatross. Her trigger.”
“That’s not your fault. You’re not Atlas. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“I don’t,” he agreed. “But I do have a very full bank account and connections to a variety of talented people. And I think that it would feel nice to help lighten someone else’s burden. To take away some of the fear and give them a little bit of hope.”
“This is what you’ve been talking to Ryan and Quincy about.”
“It is.”
“And you’re serious? A division of Stark Security?”
“You don’t like the idea?”
She studied his face, her expression so wide and open and full of love it humbled him. “On the contrary, I can’t wait to see what’s coming. But right now, will you make love to me?”
“Why?” he asked with a teasing smile, though there was nothing teasing about her answer.
“Because you’re a good man.”
The words hung for a moment in the air before the wind carried them off over the ocean. He listened to their echo as his wife drew him down to the blanket at their feet. And there, on an empty stretch of beach with the sun sinking below the horizon, he got lost in the arms of the woman he loved.
And he let himself believe her.
* * * *