When JT said goodbye to me before Bette drove him to the airport for his flight back to Kentucky, he held on a little bit longer and whispered in my ear, “Be brave.”
With my best friend’s words echoing inside my head, I take a deep breath before following his advice.
“Will you lie down with me?” My voice is small as I make my request. Yes I want Mase next to me because it will help me sleep, but really I need his arms around me while I face one of my bigger fears—my truth.
Crinkles form at the edges of Mase’s eyes as he once again catalogs my injuries. The movement of his throat as he works to swallow gives away how torn he is about giving in to my request. After a few seconds, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You could never.” My response is automatic.
His expression turns pained and he grips the back of his neck, his bicep popping like a coconut and making me want to sink my teeth into it. What? I’m concussed, not dead.
“You can’t put any pressure on your cheek.” Mase makes another attempt to deny me, but I’m not having it.
“So lie on my right side.” I lift my arm and pat the mattress twice.
“I don’t want to pull on your IV.”
This is one objection I can work with. I skim my fingers over the buttons of the bedrail until I come to the call button that will summon a nurse. In no time at all, a petite brunette arrives and makes quick work of switching my IV to my left arm.
“See?” I hold up my newly bandaged and IV-free right hand with a flourish. “Problem solved.” I pat the mattress again and rub my hand in a circle for good measure. “Now get that very tight end of yours in this bed with me right now.”
My punny compliment gets his lips to quirk enough for one of his dimples to pop out, but not enough for his feet to move.
“Please, Mase.” I purse my lips into my best pout. “I’ll sleep so much better in your arms.” I’m not above using guilt as a motivator.
The maddening man makes me wait a full minute before he rounds the bed, toes off his sneakers, and gingerly lies down in the space I indicated. His tattooed arm snakes its way behind my neck and wraps around my shoulders. Fingers trail along the back of my arm, guiding me to fit against him. Shifting around, I find that sweet spot that is the hollow between his armpit and muscular chest and make myself at home.
Mindful of the needle stuck in it, I carefully drape my arm across his stomach. I slip my fingers under the hem of his t-shirt and slowly trace the grooves of his lickable abdominals.
The relieved sigh that escapes Mase tells me he needed to feel me in his arms as much as I needed to be in them.
I can’t believe everything that’s happened in less than twenty-four hours. Life as I knew it will never be the same. Goddamn Liam Parker.
Inhaling deeply, I try to take in as much of his familiar fresh soap scent as I can. It’s faint, but it lingers enough to calm my nerves before spilling my most shameful secrets.
You are your mother’s daughter. God I hate that I can’t stop the thought from playing on repeat. I’m nothing like that woman, but the seed of doubt has been planted. Yet another gem from my scumbag ex.
“Remember when you told me nothing you learned about me could change how you feel about me?”
“Mmm,” Mase hums in the back of his throat as he buries his nose into my hair. “I think I recall. I do seem to have a steel-trap mind for those moments I’ve had you pinned against walls.”
My body flushes, it too able to recall them…but this is too important. I’ve chickened out too many times already to allow myself to be distracted.
“Did you mean it?”
Something in my tone must give away the gravity of the situation, because in the most feather-light way, a hand comes up to cup my broken cheek. “This”—behind my head, his fingers flex—“is the woman I love. Your past made this person.”
Here goes nothing.
“My mom killed my dad.”
Silence.
If we were anywhere but inside a sterile hospital, I’m sure we would be hearing crickets chirping.
Instead, there’s the steady drip-drip-drip of my IV. Thankfully the nurse removed the clip from