Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
“Lie back down, baby,” he whispers.
His tone is so low and heavy, I’m flooded with a need to look into his eyes, but he senses it, and nuzzles closer, further hiding himself. “Baby, breathe, and let me love on you a little. Can you do that?”
The heaviness settling over me is nearly drowning, but Crew’s strong arms are the only place I want to be. “Yes.”
“Can you tell me you’re okay?”
I nod against him, flashes of last night and his decision to bring us to a hotel not too far from the bar, rather than the bar itself.
“Say it for me, baby. I need to hear it.”
“I’m okay. I wasn’t hurt.”
There’s a pause, and then. “There’s a bruise on your arm.” His tone is gruff, tense. “Tell me who put it there?”
Oh.
The man left a bruise?
“Davis.” The sharp edge of his tone is doused with fear, and I realize then what he is considering.
Crew tried to warn me before that time changes people, that distance changes things, and that pain blankets the truth. He thinks he knows the answer to his question, that the mark on my skin was put there by one of the two men Memphis brought home last night, but he can’t ignore the fact that there’s a chance he could be wrong. He doesn’t want to ask but he has to know if my brother has changed so much that he’s as capable of manhandling me as he was willing to bring someone who is into my home.
I like to think the answer is no, but maybe the blinders I thought I’d thrown away long ago didn’t make it all that far.
“The big guy took my phone from me. That’s all.”
Crew’s heavy inhale stays lodged in his throat for far too long before filling the dark room around us. Several minutes tick by, and his hold tightens, as he buries his lips in my hair.
The sheer relief radiating from him is painful.
Crew truly has no trust in my brother, and for the first time, I think I understand how deep the problem runs. If Memphis could put me in the position he did last night, conscious of it or not, I can’t imagine what Crew has been dragged through by staying at my brother’s side.
This time, when I press onto my elbow, Crew allows it, his grip loosening, but only enough to allow me to move without removing his arm from me completely. I turn, facing him, a dim shadow marring his face and hiding half of it from me, but the cut above his left brow stares back, so I lift my hand, gently gliding it just above it.
Crew’s eyes search mine in the dark, and slowly, I lower my lips to his for a gentle kiss, the slight split there rough against my mouth.
But Crew presses more firmly into mine, his exhale long and soothing. “Baby, that man’s been at your work. We will talk about what that means later, but right now, I need you to agree to quit your job and come work with me. I need you with me, always.”
I shouldn’t want to smile; I should want to claim my independence and demand I retain it, but he’s not trying to take from me. He’s trying to take care of me. He needs to take care of me.
My lips curve up, and I whisper, “I’ve been waiting a couple weeks to hear that.”
Crew’s chuckle is instant but too short, a weighted breath following.
“What?”
“We should stay here a few days. I can go get you some things from the house, have Drew come sit with you.”
Shaking my head, I cling to him. “I don’t want to be away from you.”
“I don’t want to take you back into that house just yet.”
“Please. I just need to be with you. I’ll stay in the car if I have to.”
Crew stares a long moment and with a resigned nod, agrees. “Okay, baby. Get dressed. We’ll get this over with.”
He tries to sit up, but I shake my head, pressing on his chest.
“Not yet. We’ll go soon, but first, it’s my turn to take care of you a little bit. Let me fill the bath.” In case he decides to object, I add, “This way, we feel better in the clean clothes Willie dropped off last night.”
He’s hesitant to release me but slowly nods, rolling onto his back.
The tub’s in the corner of the room, not quite separated from the space altogether, but semi-blocked by a short extension of the wall. It’s large though, and when I turn it on, I spot the jets at the head and feet.
“Warm or hot?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
My lips quirk. I figured he’d say that. I’ve yet to inspect him for injuries outside of the few cuts and scrapes along his face, and while hot water will sting a second, it will be better for his stressed muscles in the next. Crew is tense, there’s no doubt about that, but there’s a type of resilience that comes from loving an addict. You resign yourself to the bad for the few moments of good you know will come, and they do. Sometimes fewer and further between, but they come, and you revel in the feeling, in the familiarity and comfort.