Turning to Nox, then back to Rock, I stand and make my way over to him. Already waiting with open arms, I all but run into his hug. He holds me tight and rocks me from side to side. I whisper, “Thank you, honey. Thank you so much.”
He kisses my hair. “Anytime, babe. Love you.”
Kissing his cheek, I utter, “Love you, too. Tell Boo I miss her. And- and that it hurts me, too.”
Rock breathes deep. “He’s got a bag full of clothes by the door. I didn’t know how today was gonna go, so…”
He trails off, and I whisper, “This is one of the best days of my life.”
And he beams.
Releasing me, he walks over to Nox who struggles to stand. Rock helps him. They man hug, but it’s not awkward or short. They grip each other tightly for a few seconds before Rock releases him and says, “Don’t give her too much shit, man. If I hear you’re giving her trouble, I’ll take care of you myself.”
Nox laughs. “Yeah, you might have to come get me when she gets sick of my ass.”
And even though it sounds like a joke, I know it isn’t. It breaks my heart. Where did the confident, assured man I loved go?
My heart tells me he’s still stuck somewhere in the rubble of the safe house.
I think it might be right.
Walking Rock to the door, I wave him off before turning to my man.
He sits on the sofa looking uncertain and almost shy. Smiling softly, I tell him, “Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be than in bed with you.” His eyes flash. I ask, “Wanna get some sleep with me?”
Reaching for his cane, he takes his time standing. Walking over to him, I wrap my arm around his waist and hold him close. The hand holding the cane shakes slightly and it makes my heart hurt. We walk down the hall to my room, and I help him out of his jacket. When I move to undo the top button of his jeans, he pulls my hand away and almost barks. “No.”
And it shocks me. So much that I step back from him with a hand on my chest.
Lifting his head, he takes one look at me, and closes his eyes on a sigh. “Been back an hour and I’m already fucking things up.” Rubbing absently at his chest, he clears his throat and explains, “I don’t like people touching my leg. Or even seeing it. It affects me a lot. So much that I suffer anxiety.”
He looks ashamed and embarrassed. And my gut rolls from the sight of him.
My hand drops to my side, and I approach him cautiously. The vein in his temple throbs, and I know he’s likely freaking out. When we meet toe-to-toe, I lift my arms and wrap them around his waist, resting my cheek on his chest. I breathe him in.
Same smell. Same everything. Almost.
Memories flood back. Silently chuckling, I ask, “Remember when I got drunk?”
He barks out a startled laugh. “Yeah. I do.” He strokes my hair. “My little hussy.” And I burst into laughter.
Suddenly, the teetering wall of awkwardness is broken.
We hold each other, laughing, and I look up into his smiling eyes. My face falls, and I speak around my thick throat. “Thought you were dead.”
His smiling eyes turn troubled. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t come earlier.”
Sniffling, I utter, “No. You did what you had to do, and I’m just grateful that I’ve got you back. I don’t care about anything else.” Reaching up, I cup his cheek, stroking his jaw with my thumb. “What I do know is that I never want to be without you ever again. So I’m doing something right now that I should’ve done when I had you.”
Stepping back from him, I kneel, and he chokes out a startled laugh. Smiling like an idiot, I ask, “Adam Christian Taylor, born March eighteenth, nineteen-eighty-four in White Deer, Texas. I love you, and I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much if you agree to marry me. I want you for life. You were never a fling or something to pass time. You mean the world to me. And I would be honored if you would be my husband.”
Face void, Nox staggers back towards the bed, sitting, leaving me kneeling in the middle of the floor.
…Awkward.
He says, “Come here, Lily,” and pats his thigh.
A little hurt at his lack of enthusiasm, I pout and stay where I am. Giving me a firm look, he pats his thigh again and says, “I said get over here, Lily.” And it’s so much like the old Nox that I stand immediately, and move over to him.
When I’m a foot away from him, he takes hold of my wrist and pulls me down onto his lap. Immediately worried about his leg, I blurt out, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
And what he says next makes me warm all over. “Been hurting a long time. You can’t see this type of hurt, though. Broken hearts don’t mend easily. And you’re not hurting me right now, baby. But even if you were, it would hurt so sweet.” Turning to face him, I kiss his lips softly and sigh. He pulls back a little. “Also, I love that you love me enough to want to marry me, but where I come from, it’s a man’s duty to ask. And I love knowing that when I’m good and ready to propose to my girl, she’ll say yes. But I don’t have a lot left to give, so please give me this, and let me do it in my own time.” He leans into my hair and murmurs, “But it’ll come soon, baby. After all this, I know I can’t live without you.”
And just like that, my hurt pride shrugs and smiles while giving me a thumbs up.
My eyes crinkle, and I place a slow kiss on his cheek. I answer softly, “Okay, honey.”
He reaches into his pocket and smiles. “Good. Because this ring has been weighing me down for three months.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth gapes, as I watch him open the red velvet box.
The white gold ring is simple and elegant, with a row of baguette diamonds across the top.
Biting my lip, I squeak and he laughs while asking, “Delilah Flynn. I love you more than I thought possible. I want to live the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.” Just about to answer, he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be the man I was before. I just want you to know that, because I’ll understand if you don’t want a damaged man as a husband.”
Not even bothering to acknowledge that last statement, I bend down as he reaches up.
Our lips meet in a slow but deep kiss and I mutter against him, “I can’t wait to be Lily Taylor.”
I feel him smile against my mouth. Pecking my lips, he asks something that makes me go rigid. “Want to meet my mom?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Parental Units
Two weeks later…
Lily
Nox drives up to the place I used to call home, and I smile remembering this is where we first met.
My fiancé didn’t like the fact that my dad and I have grown apart, so he came up with an idea that will, hopefully, bring us all together again. He requested a family dinner.
That’s right. Nox requested a family dinner.
He also filled me in on a little secret that no one knows about. His mom always knew her son was alive. And I came to know this when we went to visit her last week. I was nervous and a total mess. Nox laughed at me, “Babe, seriously. She knows all about you. I send her letters every week. She already loves you.”
I scoffed, “Oh, sure! She loves the little harlot that almost got her son killed!”
He gave me the stink eye. “Don’t ever say that again. Ever.”
Rolling my eyes, I turned my head and wore a secret smile.
Every day I was getting a piece of the old Nox back. More bossiness and less doubt. I was loving every second of rediscovering my man.
We had yet to do the deed again, but I was willing to be as patient as possible, especially after witnessing a full-blown anxiety attack that was so bad, that I had to strip him and wipe his shaking body down with a cool cloth.
It seems Nox has nightmares. He says they’re getting better, and I’m inclined to believe him because in that first week, he had three, and this week, he hasn’t had a single one.
But watching my man be all determined and strong is seriously winding me up. I can?
?t wait until we get back to the bedroom.
As soon as we exited the car, a small woman with coifed hair, dressed in a sweet, pastel pinafore dress under an apron, and wiping her hands with a dishcloth, came running out of the house screaming, “You’re here! You’re finally here!”
What shocked me even more was that this little woman basically pushed her son out of the way to scoop me up in a warm hug, and said in the best southern twang I’d ever heard, “Lily, child, I wondered when I’d be seeing you! Oh dear. The things you’ve gone through,” she clucked. “Come inside and let Mama feed you.”
Ignoring her now-laughing son, she smacked him with the dish towel, took me by the hand, and led me inside her gorgeous house in the middle of nowhere.
Trudging behind us with his cane, he called out, “Mama, you make your biscuits?”
She puffed out her chest. “Darn tootin’ I made my biscuits. Gravy too, baby.” She turned to me. “Just the way he likes ‘em,” she said, patting my hand.
We visited with Clare, who insisted I call her Mama, for two days. By the end of the visit, I was seriously sad to go. I loved having someone to talk about Nox with.
We sat for lunch that last day, and I poured some iced tea for us all. When I went to add sugar to Nox’s, he shook his head and grinned, “Sweet tea’s for pussies, babe.”
Both of us scrunching our noses at his crudeness, Clare uttered, “I know you’re not a child anymore, Adam, but you’re not too old for your mama to smack you upside the head. You’d do best to remember that.” Then she eyed her son as she said, “Pass me the sugar, sugar. Mama likes her tea sweet. And I’m no pussy, thank you very much.”
Later that day, Clare and I sat out on the porch while Nox rested. He was still at the stage of becoming exhausted pretty quickly, and the travelling really took it out of him.