Page 90 of Playing With Danger

I blinked into the dark, rolling her question around in my head. The sentiment was nice, but the truth was I had no clue. I had no relationship with my father beyond me checking in on him. And during those times we barely spoke. At this point I wasn’t sure he even remembered I was a cop. He’d never been to any apartment, condo, or house I’d lived in. He’d never been in my car. I hadn’t been to a restaurant with him since I was a teenager and I couldn’t remember the last time I shared a meal with the man. Maybe in my early twenties. I was nothing to him.

“Don’t know.”

I felt Sophie nod against my hand under her face.

“We need to talk about us?—”

“We already did.”

Panic assaulted until I was dizzy with it.

“Please, baby, listen to me?—”

“I did. I heard everything you said, Valentine. Now you need to listen to me. You said all you needed to say about us when you told me you weren’t letting me go. The rest is about you and getting you to a place where you don’t see us and our future through the filter of your father’s trauma. Like you said, that’ll take time. You need to come to the understanding that your father’s inability to see you through the loss of your mom and sister isn’t a challenge of your worth. That’s about him, Valentine.”

“Have I ever told you how incredibly brilliant I think you are?”

“No.”

Fuck, I was an asshole.

“I think you’re brilliant, Soph. Way too smart for the likes of me.” She lifted her head off my hand and I didn’t have to see her to know she was giving me the evil eye. “But it’s too late. I’m keeping you and I’ll do my damnedest to be everything you need.”

“You already are.”

For the first time, I let that penetrate and didn’t question it.

“I’m sorry, baby. So fucking sorry.”

“I know you are. I knew when your dad came out of the house, everything was going to be bad. I put the pieces together and was ready when you turned. I just didn’t know if I was doing the right thing pushing you while you were going through something so ugly.”

It was a punch to the gut I made her question herself.

“Never let me get away with my bullshit. You’re far from dumb so I’m not surprised you clocked that situation and knew what I was going to do. But what I did to you was total shit, Sophie. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m grateful you understand but, never again will I treat you to that.”

“I won’t.”

No, she wouldn’t. She’d call me out and put a stop to it.

She settled in and relaxed. Feeling that, I did the same.

Long moments passed. Us just lying there in the dark quiet. Grateful didn’t touch what I was feeling holding her hand, listening to her breath, knowing she was giving me a chance to prove to her I’d do my part—I’d do the work to fix what was broken or find a new way to deal with it. If I didn’t, I’d lose her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sophie, baby, you can ask me anything. Nothing’s off limits. You need it all, so ask.”

“The marks on your back,” she started shyly but didn’t finish.

“Are you asking about my GSW scars?” I asked, though the exit wound scars were nothing compared to the left of the center on my stomach.

“GSW? You’ve been shot?” she screeched and sat up.

Smooth, asshole.

“Few years ago. Took two to the gut, one to the neck.”

“Valentine—”

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