Page 42 of Taking Denver

The memory pulls a heavy sigh from me. “That was one of his stipulations when I moved in. ‘You won’t be a DeLuca under my roof,’” I say, imitating him. “He said I was a Luxe or I was nothing.”

“You’d just lost your dad, and he made you do that?”

“That kind of stuff is important to him. Names, blood, family,” I say, remembering the day he’d told me I had tochange my name. We’d argued violently over it because I loved my name. Denver DeLuca was cute, and my dad had called me Deedee. But Ranger didn’t relent. I gave in. And Denver Luxe was born.

“Wasn’t your happiness important to him?” Ethan asks.

It had been, to an extent. Ranger always told me everything he did was for me, even changing my name. He’d said being a Luxe protected me and gave me privileges others didn’t have, and he was right. People didn’t touch me—couldn’t touch me.

“His priority is keeping me alive,” I say. “Happy or otherwise.”

Ethan’s fingertips touch behind my ear, and I swallow hard when I realize what he’s looking at—a tattoo of the letter T. Another person who had left me, another person lost.

“Who is this for?” Ethan asks quietly.

“They’re lying, Ranger. He was fine this morning! They’re lying!” I scream and try to push Ranger aside to get to the doctor. “You’re a fucking liar!”

Ranger holds my shoulders. “Denver, look at me.”

I do. Only because if I look at that doctor anymore, that lying, horrible man, I’ll kill him. I’ll tear his skin apart with my fingernails and sheer grit.

But looking at Ranger means it’s true. I see it in his eyes. The desperate, clawing grief that reflects my own. My little boy is gone.

“No,” I say. “No, no, no?—”

“My son, Theo,” I say quietly, pushing back the memory. “He died a year ago. When he was born, there were complications, and… he died. I’m okay. I’m…” Over it? No. You never get over losing a child. The pain stays fixed in your chest, lodged there, and you somehow learn to live with it. “I’m just okay. I think that’s why when Wyatt died, I ran. I’ve lost so many people, andI was so goddamn tired of being strong. I wanted to be selfish for a while.”

I never speak about Theo to anyone except Ranger. The night I lost my son, Wyatt had left me in that hospital. I needed him, and he’d abandoned me. It was Ranger who lay on the hospital bed and held me as I cried. It was Ranger who told me I could get through it when I didn’t think I could even get through the night.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost so many people.”

That’s my life, isn’t it? Losing people. My mom, my dad, Theo, and now Wyatt. People I care about are snatched away, but one always remains. Ranger has always been the permanent fixture in my life.

I don’t thank Ethan for the kind words, but I do lean into him. I allow myself a moment of peace in his arms because soon, reality will hit home.

“What about your tattoo?” I ask, referring to name on his chest, James, and a single line of text.

Move on, be brave.

He kisses my neck. “It’s a line from my brother’s favorite song.”

His voice is low, and I’m cautious when I ask, “Is he gone?”

“Yeah,” He holds me tighter. “He is.”

We lie in comfortable silence, and when we get out of the bath and Ethan wraps a towel around my shoulders, he says, “I want to spend the rest of your trip with you. How long are you here for?”

I wet my lips. “Ten days.”

“So, we’ll have this for ten days.”

My heart quickens, a happy, dancing beat in my chest. I want this. I do. Ten days of him, of normality, of an actual vacation, and not a desperate attempt to forget my life.

He gently rubs the towel against my skin and sinks to his knees, kissing away water droplets on my stomach. “Are we doing this?”

My head drops back as he slides his fingers through the slickness gathering between my thighs. “Yes.”

“You’re mine for ten days.” He slips a finger inside me, and I gasp. “Denver. Tell me I have you.”

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