He helped me into bed and then took his clothes off. I enjoyed the view. I might not be perfect anymore, but he was. In fact, his scars and tats made him look even more perfect somehow, if that made sense.
Maybe I will get a tattoo, I thought. Maybe a big one that will cover my scars.
He climbed into bed beside me. I turned my head to look at him. For now, I could only lie on my back until my wounds healed completely. But someday, I’d be able to snuggle up to his big warm body again.
“Shh . . . don’t move, sweetheart.”
He leaned over me and pressed a kiss to my lips. And then my forehead.
“Get some rest.”
He took my hand, rubbing his thumb across the back. He stroked it softly while I fell asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Shane
I watched as Parker navigated the kitchen with ease, resting her cane against the cabinets while she worked. She didn’t even really need it anymore, but I wanted her to proceed cautiously for a few more weeks at least.
The thought of anything happening to her tore me up inside on a constant basis.
But my girl could not be kept down. She was plucky and had told me she wasn’t going to live in a glass cage. I had told her, “Fair enough, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Today, she was determined to cook something herself. I hadn’t let her lift a finger in the month after her attack. But this morning, she was determined to make us a frittata. She’d read the recipe online and even borrowed some spices from Mason to make it extra-spicy. Shorty had come by last week and taught her how to chop food.
It was exactly the kind of thing her mother had never bothered to show her. That woman didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. Just the thought of Parker growing up in that cold house, with that joke of a mother, set my blood boiling. But she had people now. People who looked out for her. Not just me, thank God. She had Mason and Michelle and Cain and Kelly and Cass and Connor. Hell, she even had a pre-teen watchdog and Preacher keeping an eye on her.
Didn’t matter that they weren’t blood. They were family now. They loved her.
And she had me. She would always have me, I vowed for the hundredth time. I watched her hungrily as she worked, starved for her touch. She had me whether she wanted me or not.
She’d been so quiet since the accident. So shy. It was too soon for her to go back to work, but she’d gotten herself set up with some online classes. She had finished her high school equivalency exam with flying colors. Now she was starting college part-time online.
I’d strong-armed her into letting me pay for it. She’d been worried about money since I ran the club and didn’t have a day job.
I hadn’t told her about the money yet. About the massive stock portfolio my parents had left Billy and me when they’d died way too young. Or the cottage by the beach in Rhode Island. I’d left the house empty all these years instead of renting it out. I didn’t have the heart. I paid for the cottage to be looked after, but it was just sitting there, empty, if not neglected.
I’ll take her there this summer, I thought suddenly. Maybe Parker would enjoy a change of scenery. Lord knew, I needed the distraction.
Even with all my worries, being close and not touching her was driving me slowly insane.
We still had slept together every night, but we hadn’t slept together yet. I wanted her desperately. More than ever. But I sensed that she wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t going to push it.
It wasn’t as if she wasn’t loving to me. She was. But I had a terrible feeling that Smith’s attack had reopened old wounds. Wounds left by her horrible family, her monstrous stepfather and the unfeeling mother who didn’t deserve to lick Parker’s boots.
She’d been hurt so many times. I couldn’t imagine how to help her heal. I would do whatever it took, but from my experience, letting someone be and just being there for them were the best way.
So I gave her time, if not space. I didn’t push her to talk or share physical affection. I wouldn’t give her more space than that, though. I couldn’t. Even if the best thing for her would be to let her go.
I was too selfish to do that.
So she was cooking while I watched anxiously, worried that she wouldn’t tell me if she got tired. Or tell me that she needed to sit down. It seemed too soon to me, but maybe I was being ridiculous. Her doctor had said she could return to normal activity as long as she kept it below fifty percent of what she used to do. She was itching to get back to work, but I’d put my foot down, with Mason’s support.