and his gaze darts to my hand. “This isn’t fake.”
He doesn’t argue.
I kneel on the ground next to him, ignoring the cold. “I know it hurts. I know you’re always actively hurting. I hate it for you.” I reach out carefully, giving him time to realize my hand is going to touch his cheek. He still flinches as I make contact, gently brushing my hand over his stubble and turning his face so he’s looking at me head-on. But he doesn’t pull away. “Give me your pain.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“It does, Rhys. Talk to me. Make love to me. Fuck me. Scream up at the sky with me. Cry with me. Break with me. So we can go ahead and put the pieces back together because I’m not going anywhere.”
His chin drops, and I use my other hand to lift his face, my hands holding his cheeks as my forehead rests against his. “Blair,” my name is a drawn-out rasp.
“I know. I can’t imagine what it was like today in the courtroom, to hear him talking about Bree. I wanted to kill him.”
He swallows tightly. “I hate that motherfucker. The way he talked about her. Like he was ready to groom her.”
I cringe, thinking about it. “I know, but she’s ours now. She’s safe.”
“So many aren’t.”
My eyes close as I rest against him. “I know.”
His eyes lift, and I pull back enough to look directly at this beautiful man. “She used to touch my leg under the table at dinner.” His teeth clench. “And other things. It was like her sick little game. Her fucking kids and husband were right there, and she would stroke my cock, like she was my lover, promising something more later.”
“What a twat.”
He snorts a quick laugh, and I swear it’s the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he presses a quick kiss to my lips. “It always put so much fear in me, like he was going to see it and beat the shit out of me. Everything he did, it was with brute force.”
It’s so hard to picture Rhys being afraid of anyone or anything. He’s so massive and strong, but thinking about his fourteen-year-old self, smaller and purposely malnourished . . . It makes me sick that there are people like them out there. “You’re strong, Rhys. You always have been.”
“I’m happy we have Bree. I’m glad she’s safe, but you’re fucked. You know that, right?”
I smile, my lips against his. “Happily.”
His head shakes, but he doesn’t move his lips from mine. “I want you to be able to touch me whenever you want to.”
“So that means I have permission?”
“Always,” he says effortlessly and lets my hand rest against his thundering heart.
“Good, but if you break,” I love the feeling of his fingers curled around the back of my neck, holding me possessively to him, “do it with me. Don’t ever run to anything else.” My head swivels, and I look over at the bottle of whiskey.
He breathes deep, his lips ghosting over mine when I look back at him. “I promise.”
I press my lips to his, and he doesn’t wince this time, just kisses me softly. “You saved Bree today.”
“You did.” He nips at my bottom lip, his voice raspy. “And you saved me a long time ago,” he breathes against my mouth.
He may think I saved him, but he gave me a purpose, saving me from a mundane, uncertain world.
Who the fuck knew that Blair was my cure-all? I mean, I'm clearly still fucked-up. Last night made that apparent. Buying that bottle of whiskey was stupid, but I just wanted to forget for a moment. To stop thinking about the horrific people that fostered me for two years.
But I knew deep down it wouldn’t help. And there she was. Even though I was horrible to her at dinner, she was there. She’s stubborn and fucking everything I never thought a guy like me could ever have.
And she held her ring finger with the ring I gave her proudly in the air and told me she wasn’t going anywhere. It was at that moment that I knew I didn’t want her to.
Not ever.
“Are you okay?” I look over to Bree, who’s zipping up her jacket as we prepare to go to her school.
“Are you asking me if I'm okay?” I half smile at her. I’m working on it, but I swear my mouth isn’t trained for the action. “I’m the