Shane (Damage Control 4)
“Shane...” I draw a steadying breath. “Told you that you’re the bravest man I know. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. I promise. Even if you feel nothing for me, I—”
“Cass.” He cups my face, his dark eyes warm. “I know.”
“But you—”
“God, I love you, Cass.” His thumbs caress my cheekbones as his words slowly sink in.
“You do?”
“Damn right I do. But I’m not what you need. Complicated and difficult and lost half the time inside my head.”
“And you thought I’ll give you up at the first sign of trouble.” I lift my chin. “Well, I won’t. That’s not how it works when you give away your heart to someone.”
Silence stretches between us, and then he lets out a strangled breath.
“Dammit, Cass…” Those pretty eyes of his are filling up with shiny tears. “I won’t magically get well, you know. The flashbacks won’t just stop. I won’t stop having nightmares. There will be times when I won’t recognize you, won’t know where I am. When I’ll make you cry.”
“As long as you keep fighting.” I turn my face to kiss the palm of his hand and will him to understand that I’m serious. “As long as you don’t give up.”
“I won’t,” he says, pressing our foreheads together. “And that’s my promise to you.”
***
At some point, Seth pokes his head inside the room to ask if we’re hungry and leaves without a reply. I can’t speak right now, only hold on to Shane, and he’s also clinging to me like he can’t let go. His chin is heavy on my shoulder and mine on his, my senses drowning in his scent of salt and blood and Shane, the feel of his strong body pressed to mine—solid and strong and whole. Warm and alive.
Can’t believe he got hurt, that he came so close to serious injury—and I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. The fear, the pain, the mind-crushing panic of a return to a past from which he’s been desperately trying to escape.
He’s muttering something against my neck, his breath ruffling my hair. It takes me a long moment to make out the words.
“I’m not going crazy,” he’s whispering with something like awe in his voice. “Oh fuck, I’m not.”
“Of course you’re not,” I whisper back, tightening my embrace. “You never were. Flashbacks are a normal reaction of the mind. Told you. You’re so strong to live through this. Frigging indestructible.”
He snorts softly, relaxes his hold a little, but doesn’t deny it.
With time, I’ll make him see it. Make him believe in himself again. Not because I’m some genius or possess some supernatural ability—but because I love him, and this i
s my personal mission: to see him confident and happy, to pull down his walls and bring out the bright spirit he’s hiding inside. Bring out the boy he used to be.
Just like he’s bringing out the girl I was before Angel died and Mom convinced me she and I weren’t worth anyone’s love anymore. That I had to settle for less.
“I love you,” he says, with his uncanny ability to read my mind. “Always have.”
So I kiss him. His mouth brushes over mine, soft and sweet, and his hands caress my hair, careful. Moving in slow strokes. Showing me what he expressed already with words.
He loves me, and it’s spilling through his touch, his gestures, his gentleness. It’s not that he doesn’t want me—no, I feel the evidence of his arousal caught between us—but the violence pouring out of him every time we got hot and sweaty together before is tempered, kept under wraps.
Maybe he’s realized I’m staying, that I won’t walk away at the first sign of trouble, as I promised.
But maybe it’s more than that.
“Something changed,” I whisper against his warm lips, “right? Tonight. After fighting those men off.”
“In my dreams,” he says, “I could never fight back. Something that chick, Kayla, told me at the wedding reminded me I can. And I was lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Not everyone gets the chance to reshape their memories, yeah? Beat the demons back. And… not everyone has a home to go back to, afterward. Someone like you waiting for them.”