My heart leaps in my chest. She wanted me to stay.
“It’s stupid. I know. I’m pathetic.” She stands and wipes her cheek. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m a mess, I know that, but I felt safe. The nightmares were gone, but then you were gone. And—” She hides her face in her hands and takes a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” I say, wrapping my hand around her wrist. I stand and pull her into my arms, embracing her small body with the safety a man can provide, that they are supposed to provide. “I left because I didn’t want to push. I didn’t want to spend the night and you wake up surprised. That’s all. It isn’t because I wanted to go, I didn’t. I love being by your side.” “Yeah?”
“Yeah, babe. Dry those tears.” I wipe the darned things away and grin. “Get in bed. Let me throw some pants on, okay?”
“Are you sure? I can go. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Are you kidding? Finding out I get to hold the woman who’s taken over every ounce of my mind? It’s a dream come true.”
She crawls on the bed, and my eyes land on her swaying ass. Her hips are wide and her ass is plump. I wish she was crawling toward me, right up my body until she sat on my cock.
My cock rolls under the towel as it grows from watching her put on an unexpected, innocent show. She has no idea how sexy she is. I hold my hands over the plumping bulge and take a few side steps to my closet as she snuggles into the fluffy white blanket and mattress. She’s so small, she almost disappears.
She sighs in content, and I shut the closet door and drop my towel. I sneer at my cock and debate giving myself a pep talk to get myself in check, but that’s fucking stupid. I don’t need to do that.
I grab a pair of gray sweatpants and open the door, then stroll to the opposite side of the bed where I usually sleep. She’s in my spot, but that’s alright. She can have it for as long as she wants. I pull the sheets back and slide into bed with her. I want to pull her close, hold her, show her she’s okay with me, but there’s a difference between falling asleep in the same bed and cuddling.
So I don’t reach for her.
I leave it up to her.
I throw my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I got myself into this situation. I look to the right, where Jolie is. On the other side of her in a drawer is a photo album full of the past with no promise of a future.
And for the first time ever, I don’t have the urge to stare at Annabeth’s picture before I fall asleep. I want to stare at Jolie.
She grumbles something and inches her way toward me. I hold my breath and don’t move. I don’t want to risk waking her and spooking her from me.
Jolie lays her head in the crook of my arm and curls her body into a ball. I know it’s a big deal that she’s choosing me.
Me.
The guy half-fucked in the head and a bit wild.
And Jolie picked me.
I drop an arm and wrap it around her shoulders, locking her against me. Safe and sound.
“Owen.” She sighs happily against my side.
I glance down to make sure she isn’t awake, and she isn’t, but she’s smiling in her sleep. Maybe … she’s dreaming of me?
One can hope.
“I got you, Jolie. You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe.” My eyes start to drift shut, and I search for the emptiness, the void in my chest that’s been there for twenty years.
It’s not there.
The wound is healing, and it’s fragile, still in the state of repair.
Finally, after twenty years, I’m able sleep knowing when I wake up, I’ll feel whole.
Seventeen
Jolie
Two weeks later