Her eyes water but she nods. “I finally understand.”
“What?”
“What you did to TomTom.” Her eyes find mine. “Why you did it.”
My gut tightens. It’s the last thing I want her to know. To understand. She’s so pure. So perfect in every way. Her knowing the need for revenge doesn’t seem right. I clench my teeth as a wave of protectiveness sweeps through me.
“I would’ve killed her,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
She swallows thickly, but I see a tiny flicker of hope come back to her eyes. “You don’t think so?”
“No. That’s not who you are, baby. You were never going to pull that trigger.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m not so sure.”
I tenderly touch her face. “I am.”
She looks at her bruised knuckles but then nods.
“Come on, you’ll feel better after a shower.” I lead her into the bathroom and turn on the water. Waiting for it to warm, I help Bronte out of her clothes and then kiss her softly.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her lips.
She smiles, but it’s unsure.
It’s in that moment I make a silent vow to make sure my sweet wildflower never has to question herself like this again. I will do whatever it takes to protect her from anything like this happening in the future. And there is only one way to do that.
Naked, she steps into the shower, and dressed in just my jeans, I join her. We don’t speak as I wash away the blood and the pain from her body, and when I’m done, I kiss her, and she moans into my mouth as I secure my arms around her.
“Marry me,” I say against her lips.
The words vibrate in the small shower cubicle before she pulls away to look at me. “What?”
I run my hands over the crown of her head and push my fingers through her hair as I look down, losing myself in the vibrant depths of her blue eyes.
“I don’t want to ever be without you, wildflower.”
And I don’t.
She’s my oxygen. My heartbeat. My everything.
“I know it’s only been a month, but I can’t imagine letting you go now or ever. What do you say—”
“Yes,” she says suddenly, a ray of sunshine lifting the clouds from her eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
She smiles, and my stomach clenches because she has the most beautiful smile in the world.
I bend my head to kiss her long and deep, my tongue sweeping into her mouth and claiming her luscious lips permanently. “You sure?”
She nods enthusiastically and grins, then laughs. “I love you, Jack Dillinger, and I don’t want this to end.” The sparkle in her eyes twinkles with mischief. “And I can’t wait to see the look on Loki’s face when he realizes I really am going to be his stepmom.”
JACK
I’m sitting at my desk the next day finishing up some business when Shooter appears in the doorway. Lately, things have been strained between us because he’s made his disapproval of my relationship with Bronte more than obvious.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
When I nod, he walks in and takes a seat across the desk from me.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
He takes in a deep breath and then exhales deeply.
I’ve known Shooter forever. Since he kicked Jimmy Pearson’s ass in the first grade for shoving me into the dirt on my first day. Jimmy was a bully, and Shooter was unhinged enough to take him on before I even had a chance to defend myself. We’ve been brothers ever since, so I know when something is weighing heavy on his mind.
“So, you and Bronte… rumor has it you asked her to marry you.”
I’ve forgotten how quick the MC grapevine works.
So far, we’ve only told Faith and the twins.
I brace myself for Shooter’s reaction, ready to put an end to any ideas that this is up for negotiation.
“Yes.” I give him a dark look that dares him to take me on. “You have a problem with that?”
He shifts his huge body in the seat. “Honestly, if you’d asked me last month, the answer would be yes. But—”
“But what?”
He takes a moment to choose his words. “I’m thinking it might be a good thing after all. I haven’t seen this version of you in a long time.”
I’m surprised but don’t say anything. Instead, I let him continue talking.
“I saw what losing your brother, and then your marriage did to you. Saw how it hurt you. How it chewed you up so bad you could hardly function. So, when Bronte came along, I could see a world of hurt coming at you if it didn’t work out. And considering her age and the circumstance she was in, the odds weren’t in your favor.” He shifts uncomfortably in his chair again. Shooter isn’t one for talking about his feelings. “But she’s a good girl, and even I have to admit how good you are together. She loves you, and no one can deny it. That girl would walk to the end of the world for you.”