“He won’t be a problem for a while.”
I search Savage’s body for injuries, but he looks finebesides a barely noticeable limp, so I’m thankful he didn’t get hurt. And Mad Dog’s clearly not dead, but I trust that he won’t be a problem if Savage says he won’t be.
He tells me about his chat with his mother, but instead of telling me all the details, he pulls me into his lap. “I want to tell you something, baby.”
I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder. I brace myself for whatever it is his mama said. I hope it’s nothing bad, but it’s impossible to feel fear when I’m on Savage’s lap. Besides, he said he had good news and bad news, and I am darn sure Mad Dog trying to scam the Heat is not the good news.
I take a deep breath, and Savage’s scent, the heat of his skin, fills my senses and lulls me into deep relaxation. I wiggle my toes and rub my head against him, stupidly happy and light. I don’t even know what he has to say, but he could tell me he wants to watch paint dry, and I think I’d be delighted.
“Claire,” he says, his voice not tentative or shaking, “I’m falling in love with you. I think I’ve known from the moment I met you that I wanted to make you mine. But I’ve been so goddamn scared that I would screw it up. That my anger, that my past, my blood, for fuck’s sake, would show up like a ticking time bomb in my soul someday and ruin everything. I didn’t want to do that to you. I don’t want that for myself. So, I stuffed my feelings down where they couldn’t get out.”
I lift my face and study his as he speaks. His lips curve into a smile, and his eyes are so warm, it’s likeI’m seeing the real him for the first time. “Savage, I—” I try to interrupt, but he silences me with a finger against my lips.
“One more thing,” he says. “I am devoted to Aurora too. I love and care about her. But I know if I were you, it’d take me a long time before I’d trust anyone with my baby girl. I’m stubborn, Claire. I didn’t speak to my mother for twelve years because I thought she blamed me for…” He shakes his head. “Point is, I’m willing to wait as long as it takes to build a relationship with your daughter. You’re a package deal, and I want you both.”
I can hardly process what I’m hearing.
Four months ago, I was trapped in a loveless situation with a man who talked with his fists and yelled with his voice. After he passed, I thought for sure I’d be dead or on the streets by now.
But Savage came along and saved me—and maybe, just maybe, I’ve saved him in some way too.
I stroke the stubble on his chin and ask the question that’s been on my mind. “Do you want to talk about what happened with your mom?”
I ask the question, but my voice breaks because Savage is starting to massage my thighs. His strong fingers knead my muscles, and the sensation warms my entire body from toes to cheeks. I’m smiling, relaxing into his touch, when he says in a low and gravelly voice, “I need time to process everything.”
I can understand that. Everything about life, I think, is a process. Forgiveness is a process. Maturity is a process. Parenting, relationships, career. Even getting toknow yourself—it’s all time and effort. A process that I’m learning requires kindness. Especially directed toward ourselves.
“So, I have a little good news too.” I lean back against the couch cushions and let Savage work his fingers down my calves, his fingers releasing little sparks of pleasure with every squeeze.
“What’s that, baby?” He’s looking me over with a completely new expression.
I love that look that makes me think he’s imagining all the things he wants to do to me. But something has lifted from his shoulders too.
The side of his mouth curls playfully, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“I have a job interview.”
He moves my legs off his lap and moves closer to me. “No shit? Holy fuck. Where? With who? That’s great news.” He seems swept up in my excitement, but then all of a sudden, the reality seems to set in. “Wait, though. What about Aurora? Who’s gonna watch her if you’re working?” He shakes his head, his brow lowered in concern. “Claire, maybe you shouldn’t work. Maybe you should stay home and just take care of her for a while.”
I lean forward and cup his face in my hands. “Savage,” I say firmly. “It’s an interview. I don’t have a job offer. And I don’t know what I’m going to do about any of that yet. There’s day care and babysitters.”
He shakes his head. “You’d trust strangers with her? Fuck that. I?—”
My grin stops him short.
“What?” he asks.
“I trusted you,” I remind him. “And Poppy, Stella, Tank, and Phantom. The list goes on. I don’t trust anyone with my baby, but we can’t hide out here in this condo forever.”
He swallows hard and scrubs a hand over his face roughly. “I don’t like it,” he admits. “It scares me, thinking about leaving her with anyone but you.”
I suck my lower lip into my mouth and bite back tears. This is how I know he loves us. Not by his words. Not by the many, many actions over the last few months that have shown me he cares. But by the fact that he is worried. Suffering inside because he wants what’s best for Aurora.
I rest my forehead against his and take his hands. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes. Together, okay? You’ll be part of any decision I make. As long as you want to be a part of it.”
“Fuck yes,” he says. “Forever. Always.”
Whether he means that in a literal sense or not, I don’t care. I lower my lips to his and start kissing him, hungrily, my mouth wanting to express all the feelings I have been suppressing all this time.