Page 85 of Heartbeats & Highways

He met my gaze. Steady. Waiting. Unrelenting.

“It was a meat tenderizer,” I said quietly. “For burning his dinner, the first year we were married.”

He hauled me close and caged me within his embrace. I coiled myself around him and buried my nose in his shirt.

“That wasn’t the only time he was physical. Was it?”

“No.”

“Fuck, Evie. Did your family know?”

“My parents died when I was eighteen. I was already married to him. There was no one I could . . . anyway it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead and I’m with you.”

“God, I had no idea.”

“Why would you? I didn’t say anything about it.”

“Yeah, but—it makes sense now. Why you didn’t want to go home with me that first night.”

I smiled against his chest. “That had more to do with not wanting to be another notch on your bedpost.”

He gently ran his fingers through my hair, his grip tightening ever so slightly and gently easing my neck back, so I had to look at him. “I’m a fighter. You saw me in the ring and then you saw me beat the shit out of that guy who grabbed your wrist. I can’t believe that didn’t turn you off.”

I licked my lips. “You covered my body with yours when we heard the gunshots. It was instantaneous—like you didn’t even have to think about protecting me. You just did. I know violence at the hand of a man. And I know you’d never raise your hands against me.”

“Have I ever scared you?”

I thought about his question for a moment, searching my memory for a time that I was afraid of Savage. “When you ran out of the warehouse after me. You came toward me and your hands were clenched. I remember taking a step back, and when I did you immediately stopped in your tracks. Afraid isn’t the right word . . . but my past . . .”

“What about when we were at Spurs, and I almost got into a fight, and you stepped between me and Ox?”

“No, I wasn’t afraid.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured. “I was in the red zone.”

“And yet, I was able to call you back. You’re intense, Savage. But even so, I know you’d never hurt me.”

His eyes glittered with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry, Evie. I’m so sorry your husband hurt you.”

“I came here to start over because when he died, I was finally free. Free to meet you. Free to fall in love. The past can only hurt you if you let it. I don’t want to look behind me anymore. I want to look forward.”

He settled his hand on my belly. “Then let’s look forward together.”

An hour later, I was on the couch reading a baby book I’d found tucked into the bag of clothes Willa had brought me. Savage was pacing nonstop.

“What’s with you?” I asked.

“Sorry, babe,” he apologized even as he continued to pace. “I’ve got all this energy inside me. I’ve got to get it out.”

I flung the book aside and stood. “I can help with that.”

“No.”

I halted in my steps toward him. “No?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I need to fucking hit something. I’m angry, babe. I’m so damn angry and if I take you to bed, you’ll get that anger. And I won’t do that to you.”

My gaze softened and I nodded.

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