Willing Captive (28 page)

Neither am I.

Rock adds, “That’s
when the rest of the explosions went off. The house started
collapsing, and…” He trails off and looks at Nox.

Nox continues, “And
it got me. Rafters collapsed on me. I don’t really remember much
after that.”

No. That’s not good
enough.

My face must convey
this, because Nox explains, “The only person who knew I was alive
was Mitch. And he didn’t tell anyone. Not a soul, babe.”

“
Why?” I’m starting to dislike this Mitch.

Nox looks me in the eye. “Because it was bad.” My eyes turn
sad. “He didn’t know if I’d make it. I spent almost three months in
an induced coma due to my brain swelling. My injuries were
extensive. I have minor brain damage. I don’t remember or react to
things like I used to. I’m still doing daily physical
therapy.”

He blinks a moment,
as if he forgot what he was saying.

And it breaks my
heart.

Scooching closer to
him, our knees touch, and I slide my hand into his. I prompt,
“You’re still doing physical therapy?”

Looking embarrassed,
he shakes his head. “Yeah. I’ve wanted to see you from the second I
woke up. But I couldn’t, babe. If I could’ve, I would’ve.” He
grins, “Learning to walk again is hard.”

Oh shit.

I whisper, “I’m
sorry, honey.”

He smiles a megawatt
smile, and suddenly I’m pissed. Gripping his hand tighter, I move
even closer to him and turn to Rock. “So Mitch just decided to
plant his DNA and fake his death?”

The air in the room
changes. I don’t know what I just said, but it’s obviously a touchy
subject.

Nox clears his
throat. “No, princess. He didn’t plant my DNA. It was there, in the
house.”

My brows furrow in
confusion.

Nox lifts the right
side of his pants leg.

Looking down, I
cover my mouth with my hands and gasp.

My heart races.

Closing my eyes, I
bury my face in my hands and sob. I stutter through tears, “I- I-
I’m sorry, honey. So sorry.”

His arms come around
me, and pull me to him. I wrap my arms around him, and bury my face
in his neck. “So sorry, babe.”

He rubs my back and
explains gently, “It’s not that bad. It could’ve been worse.
Prosthetics are actually pretty advanced these days. It took a
little while to get used to, but I’ve got the hang of it. My body’s
just weak from being in a coma, and I need to build up my strength
again. The brain damage…that’s something they don’t know about. It
varies with every case. I’m really just a little forgetful.”

Without thinking, I
pull back and blurt out, “We need to move. This place isn’t big
enough for both of us, and you’ll need room to do PT. I’ll see if
we can find a house to rent or something. Okay?”

His brows rise in
shock. Then his face softens. Placing his forehead on mine, he
asks, “You wanna live with me?”

It
takes everything I have not to karate chop him for asking such a
dumb question
. I probe, “Do you love me?”

Without hesitation,
he answers, “More than anything in my life.” He confides, “It was
so hard in recovery. So many times I wanted to give up. Give in.
Every time I told myself I couldn’t do it anymore, I thought about
you. And how proud you’d be of me for doing it, even though it was
so fucking hard.”

My eyes close, and I
breathe deeply, trying desperately to control my emotions. I say
softly, “I am. I’m so proud of you.”

Then my body reacts
on its own accord. Leaning forward, I very softly press my lips to
his. His hands slide up my neck and into my hair, tangling his
fingers through it, deepening our kiss.

Elation. Pure
joy.

Someone coughs.

Shit.
I
forgot Rock was here.

Standing, he smiles,
“If you guys are good, I have to get back.”

Turning to Nox, then
back to Rock, I stand and make my way over to him. Already waiting
with open arms, I all but run into his hug. He holds me tight and
rocks me from side to side. I whisper, “Thank you, honey. Thank you
so much.”

He kisses my hair.
“Anytime, babe. Love you.”

Kissing his cheek, I
utter, “Love you, too. Tell Boo I miss her. And- and that it hurts
me, too.”

Rock breathes deep.
“He’s got a bag full of clothes by the door. I didn’t know how
today was gonna go, so…”

He trails off, and I
whisper, “This is one of the best days of my life.”

And he beams.

Releasing me, he
walks over to Nox who struggles to stand. Rock helps him. They man
hug, but it’s not awkward or short. They grip each other tightly
for a few seconds before Rock releases him and says, “Don’t give
her too much shit, man. If I hear you’re giving her trouble, I’ll
take care of you myself.”

Nox laughs. “Yeah,
you might have to come get me when she gets sick of my ass.”

And even though it
sounds like a joke, I know it isn’t. It breaks my heart. Where did
the confident, assured man I loved go?

My heart tells me
he’s still stuck somewhere in the rubble of the safe house.

I
think it
might be
right.

Walking Rock to the
door, I wave him off before turning to my man.

He sits on the sofa
looking uncertain and almost shy. Smiling softly, I tell him,
“Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be than in bed with you.”
His eyes flash. I ask, “Wanna get some sleep with me?”

Reaching for his
cane, he takes his time standing. Walking over to him, I wrap my
arm around his waist and hold him close. The hand holding the cane
shakes slightly and it makes my heart hurt. We walk down the hall
to my room, and I help him out of his jacket. When I move to undo
the top button of his jeans, he pulls my hand away and almost
barks. “No.”

And it shocks me. So
much that I step back from him with a hand on my chest.

Lifting his head, he
takes one look at me, and closes his eyes on a sigh. “Been back an
hour and I’m already fucking things up.” Rubbing absently at his
chest, he clears his throat and explains, “I don’t like people
touching my leg. Or even seeing it. It affects me a lot. So much
that I suffer anxiety.”

He looks ashamed and
embarrassed. And my gut rolls from the sight of him.

My hand drops to my
side, and I approach him cautiously. The vein in his temple throbs,
and I know he’s likely freaking out. When we meet toe-to-toe, I
lift my arms and wrap them around his waist, resting my cheek on
his chest. I breathe him in.

Same smell. Same
everything. Almost.

Memories flood back.
Silently chuckling, I ask, “Remember when I got drunk?”

He barks out a
startled laugh. “Yeah. I do.” He strokes my hair. “My little
hussy.” And I burst into laughter.

Suddenly, the
teetering wall of awkwardness is broken.

We hold each other,
laughing, and I look up into his smiling eyes. My face falls, and I
speak around my thick throat. “Thought you were dead.”

His smiling eyes
turn troubled. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t come
earlier.”

Sniffling, I utter,
“No. You did what you had to do, and I’m just grateful that I’ve
got you back. I don’t care about anything else.” Reaching up, I cup
his cheek, stroking his jaw with my thumb. “What I do know is that
I never want to be without you ever again. So I’m doing something
right now that I should’ve done when I had you.”

Stepping back from
him, I kneel, and he chokes out a startled laugh. Smiling like an
idiot, I ask, “Adam Christian Taylor, born March eighteenth,
nineteen-eighty-four in White Deer, Texas. I love you, and I will
spend the rest of my life showing you just how much if you agree to
marry me. I want you for life. You were never a fling or something
to pass time. You mean the world to me. And I would be honored if
you would be my husband.”

Face void, Nox
staggers back towards the bed, sitting, leaving me kneeling in the
middle of the floor.

…
Awkward.

He says, “Come here,
Lily,” and pats his thigh.

A little hurt at his
lack of enthusiasm, I pout and stay where I am. Giving me a firm
look, he pats his thigh again and says, “I said get over here,
Lily.” And it’s so much like the old Nox that I stand immediately,
and move over to him.

When I’m a foot away
from him, he takes hold of my wrist and pulls me down onto his lap.
Immediately worried about his leg, I blurt out, “I don’t want to
hurt you.”

And what he says
next makes me warm all over. “Been hurting a long time. You can’t
see this type of hurt, though. Broken hearts don’t mend easily. And
you’re not hurting me right now, baby. But even if you were, it
would hurt so sweet.” Turning to face him, I kiss his lips softly
and sigh. He pulls back a little. “Also, I love that you love me
enough to want to marry me, but where I come from, it’s a man’s
duty to ask. And I love knowing that when I’m good and ready to
propose to my girl, she’ll say yes. But I don’t have a lot left to
give, so please give me this, and let me do it in my own time.” He
leans into my hair and murmurs, “But it’ll come soon, baby. After
all this, I know I can’t live without you.”

And just like that,
my hurt pride shrugs and smiles while giving me a thumbs up.

My eyes crinkle, and
I place a slow kiss on his cheek. I answer softly, “Okay,
honey.”

He
reaches into his pocket and smiles. “Good. Because this ring has
been weighing me down for three months.”

My eyes widen, and
my mouth gapes, as I watch him open the red velvet box.

The white gold ring
is simple and elegant, with a row of baguette diamonds across the
top.

Biting my lip, I squeak and he laughs while asking, “Delilah
Flynn. I love you more than I thought possible. I want to live the
rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.” Just about to answer,
he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be the man I was before.
I just want you to know that, because I’ll
understand if you don’t want a damaged man as a
husband.”

Not even bothering
to acknowledge that last statement, I bend down as he reaches
up.

Our lips meet in a
slow but deep kiss and I mutter against him, “I can’t wait to be
Lily Taylor.”

I feel him smile
against my mouth. Pecking my lips, he asks something that makes me
go rigid. “Want to meet my mom?”

Chapter
Twenty-Four
Parental Units

Two weeks later…

Lily

Nox drives up to the
place I used to call home, and I smile remembering this is where we
first met.

My fiancé didn’t
like the fact that my dad and I have grown apart, so he came up
with an idea that will, hopefully, bring us all together again. He
requested a family dinner.

That’s right.
Nox
requested
a family dinner.

He also filled me in
on a little secret that no one knows about. His mom always knew her
son was alive. And I came to know this when we went to visit her
last week. I was nervous and a total mess. Nox laughed at me,
“Babe, seriously. She knows all about you. I send her letters every
week. She already loves you.”

I scoffed, “Oh,
sure! She loves the little harlot that almost got her son
killed!”

He gave me the stink
eye. “Don’t ever say that again. Ever.”

Rolling my eyes, I
turned my head and wore a secret smile.

Every day I was
getting a piece of the old Nox back. More bossiness and less doubt.
I was loving every second of rediscovering my man.

We
had yet to
do the
deed
again, but I
was willing to be as patient as possible, especially after
witnessing a full-blown anxiety attack that was so bad, that I had
to strip him and wipe his shaking body down with a cool
cloth.

It seems Nox has
nightmares. He says they’re getting better, and I’m inclined to
believe him because in that first week, he had three, and this
week, he hasn’t had a single one.

But watching my man
be all determined and strong is seriously winding me up. I can’t
wait until we get back to the bedroom.

As soon as we exited
the car, a small woman with coifed hair, dressed in a sweet, pastel
pinafore dress under an apron, and wiping her hands with a
dishcloth, came running out of the house screaming, “You’re here!
You’re finally here!”

What shocked me even more was that this little woman basically
pushed her son out of the way to scoop me up in a warm hug, and
said in the best southern twang I’d ever heard, “Lily, child, I
wondered when I’d be seeing you! Oh dear. The things you’ve gone
through,” she clucked. “Come inside and let Mama feed you.”

Ignoring her
now-laughing son, she smacked him with the dish towel, took me by
the hand, and led me inside her gorgeous house in the middle of
nowhere.

Trudging behind us
with his cane, he called out, “Mama, you make your biscuits?”

She puffed out her chest. “Darn tootin’ I made my biscuits.
Gravy too, baby.” She turned to me. “Just the way he likes ‘em,”
she said, patting my hand.

We visited with
Clare, who insisted I call her Mama, for two days. By the end of
the visit, I was seriously sad to go. I loved having someone to
talk about Nox with.

We sat for lunch
that last day, and I poured some iced tea for us all. When I went
to add sugar to Nox’s, he shook his head and grinned, “Sweet tea’s
for pussies, babe.”

Both of us scrunching our noses at his crudeness, Clare
uttered, “I know you’re not a child anymore, Adam, but you’re not
too old for your mama to smack you upside the head. You’d do best
to remember that.” Then she eyed her son as she said, “Pass me the
sugar, sugar. Mama likes her tea sweet. And I’m no pussy, thank you
very much.”