Page 147 of Dock

Wow.

Four days?!

“Doctor said all your vitals were stable and they got all your fluids up and everything looked okay, but no one could seem to give me a reason why you weren’t waking up and then those fuckers didn’t wanna give me any info ‘cause they said I wasn’t your emergency contact but then Dive made it so I was, so then they did and-” The sudden sight of me smirking stops him mid-sentence. “What?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Yeah.” He lets his frame hit the back of the seat. “I guess I am.”

“It’s just nice to be on the other end of it is all.”

“I love when you ramble, Teach.”

“I think I love when you ramble, H.”

For the first time since he walked in, relief manages to settle across his entire frame, prompting mine to follow suit. Wedging the snacks securely in his lap barely precedes his fingers linking to mine. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Unsure of what to say…primarily due to the cluelessness of what happened is what prompts me to remain silent.

“I thought…” hearing tears in his voice acts like a siren song for my own, “I couldn’t…” Another unfinished sentence is accompanied by a slow headshake. “I didn’t…” The trembling in his jaw has my digits tightening around his. “I want your forever, Emaline Owens.” His slight lean forward occurs to emphasize his seriousness. “And I want you to have mine.”

Swooning isn’t swallowed so much as smothered out by his mouth smashing into mine.

There’s pain but pleasure and pleading and absolution and love.

So. Much. Love.

On every soft press and light stroke the word can be felt and absorbed and stained onto the fabric of my very being.

When he gracelessly falls back into his chair, he boldly declares, “You are mine ‘til death parts us.” My hand is lifted to allow his lips to press themselves against my bruised knuckles. “And I swear to continue to do whatever it takes to prolong the reaper from knocking.”

After a minor nod of acknowledgement I ask, “Am I safe now?” Attempting to slightly curl towards him results in chest rattling groans. “Is Dean Berkley dead?”

“Safe. Yes.” A twitched glare occurs; however, it’s obvious that it’s not directly about me. “Dead? No.” Displeasure whirls around his hardening expression. “But…relocated.”

“Meaning?”

“They managed to get the fuck out of Avallone before they ended up in pieces at the bottom of the lakes.”

Reprieve regarding the information isn’t maximum, yet it’s far from minimal.

“We’ll find them,” H lovingly promises, “and we’ll handle them.”

Is it ideal that the man who had me kidnapped is still alive?

No.

But at least he’s not in town.

At least I can feel safe in my own city.

My own home.

“Our house needs better security,” I firmly declare. “Should we get a guard dog?”

“Yes, to security. No, to the dog.” Mirth replaces any lingering sadness. “Noodle is dog enough.” Tiny laughs spark new whimpers of pain prompting him to sweetly instruct, “Careful, Teach.” One thumb stroke is followed by another. “We’ve got a long healing road ahead.” An unfortunate cringe gets presented. “Lots of appointments with regular docs and your hematologist. Some PT. Talk therapy – whatever the fuck that is. And I think a nutritionist to get more Special K in your diet.”

I opt out of correcting him to coo, “I love that you said we.”