At first, I didn’t care about what was going on in the outside world in regard to Bobby and the entire incident. The man was clearly not in his right mind the other day. He was barely making sense, and he was fixated on the wrong thing—talking to me—as if it would solve all his problems.
Titus was getting updates on everything because the man doesn’t know when to stop, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. He was also watching me as if he expected me to break at any moment. I suppose the possibility of that happening isn’t without merit.
I should be freaking out about the fact that a dead body was so close to me. Then there’s how I witnessed the moment he was shot. But that wasn’t what stuck with me about that day. No, what I see when I close my eyes is the blood seeping through my fingers and the light flickering in Titus’ gray eyes.
That is the nightmare fuel within the memory of what happened at the grocery store.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I don’t feel sorry for Bobby. He made his choices. He faced the consequences for at least one of them.
“The word around town is Bobby had a psychotic break. The only other person close enough to hear most of what he was saying was the clerk. She was hiding and is the one who called the sheriff’s department, but she was scared and didn’t hear a lot of what was being said. The security video didn’t have sound, but it certainly looks like he was high and off the rails.”
“So, that really is it,” I say, some of the tension leaving my shoulders.
“As far as I know. I’m sure your dad will have more questions about the whole thing and those can be answered honestly. The carnie is long gone,” there’s a darkness in his voice with those words which I choose to ignore completely. “Everyone is spinning a narrative for Bobby’s behavior and now he’s dead. He didn’t tell his boss about what was going on. Even now, after Whiskey has tried to pull on the threads we know about, we can’t find any reason to believe you’re in any danger.”
I glance over at Titus after I pull through the gate of the clubhouse, but I don’t stop there. Instead, I head around to where the club has set up the houses to feel like a neighborhood but with more land to spare. Something twinges in my heart and I push it aside.
I’ll deal with that later. After I ensure he’s really okay.
Only then will I worry about what comes later.
The entire time he’s walking into the house, I’m hovering nearby like a hummingbird. When he lowers his large frame onto the couch and sighs in relief, I’m right there, my hands barely touching him.
“Do you need anything? What can I get you? I’ll go and get you some water,” I decide and start toward the kitchen.
Titus snags my wrist, his tone a gentle admonishment, “Ezra.”
When he yanks me down on his lap, I immediately try to get up, but his hold is firm. “No, I can’t be on your lap. You just got out of the hospital,” with my words, my face scrunches up with indignation.
“I’m aware,” he rumbles before nuzzling his face in my neck. He takes a deep breath, and I find myself doing the same, his spruce and cinnamon scent helps me to relax slightly. “You don’t need to hover, and you don’t need to wait on me,” his words slide along my skin.
“I do,” I insist. “You just got out of the hospital,” I say it again as if he would be impacted by the gravity of my words if said a second time. By the way he huffs, he’s not. “I’m going to nurse you back to health.”
“I’m fine,” he tells me.
His fingers tangle in my hair and he tugs while pulling back enough to look into my eyes. “What’s really going on, Teach?”
The way his gray eyes search mine is my undoing. My tears come unbidden and there’s no way for me to contain them. Titus looks horrified for a second before his features soften.
My fingers grip the edge of his cut as I break down and sob. “I was so scared you were going to die right there, right in front of me,” my voice comes out broken and jagged.
His hand slides up and down my back. I’ve cried over the last few days, but this is different. These tears feel like a purging.
I’m grateful for it because it feels like I’ve been bottling everything up over the last few days. My only focus was Titus and getting him out of the hospital. Now we’re home.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my temple. “I will always fight to come home to you. It’s my greatest honor to love and protect you. I’ll never give up when the alternative is you.”
My tears ebb, but the feeling of being found, of being seen, remains. He holds me close and we simply let the moment settle around us.
When the doubts creep in, when the fear of losing him tries to sink its claws deeper, Titus is there with his hand on my back and his sweet words in my ear.
We’re home. I just hope I really can stay and his words weren’t just pain medicine and adrenaline talking.
CHAPTER 23
RYKER
I’m a man on a mission. No one better get in my way. Not right now. Not today.