Page 65 of The Vow

“How many questions have I answered for you and you’ve yet to answer any of mine?”

“Then ask.”

I gripped the sleeves of Damon’s jacket, bracing for whatever the depths of my husband’s devious mind would conjure to know…and wondering just how much truth I was willing to give.

“What was your happiest memory in the last fifteen years?”

I swayed, feeling blindsided by the…simple request. I’d expected him to ask any one of a thousand things, all revolving around him.Did I miss him? Did I think of him all these years? Did I still want him? Still love him?All questions I was more afraid of the answer than I was admitting it to him.

But this…

“My younger sister, Isla, getting married and having a whole brood of children.” This was an easy answer. There were few people I let into my life, even fewer that I loved, but my adopted siblings were at the top of the list. Harm, Dare, and Isla.

“With Jackson Pyle.”

My teeth locked, surprised—though I shouldn’t have been—by the knowledge he had about my life and the people in it.

“She owns a flower shop in Carmel Cove. All their daughters are named after flowers.”

A smile tugged his lips. “Cute.”

Cute.The word didn’t seem real coming from a world-class criminal. It didn’t seem right. And maybe that was why I couldn’t stop the image in my mind of Damon meeting Isla’skids. I saw Poppy stealing his hat and Lily asking for a piggyback ride.

I twitched, and the fragile fantasy shattered.Thank God.

“Now answer mine,” I said.

Damon inhaled slowly and slid the ice to the other side of his abdomen, the cold inciting another shuddering symphony of muscle spasms. He tipped his head back, and a rogue lock of hair crossed onto his forehead.

“One of Belmont’s security beat me with a bag of oranges, but not for what happened at the Christmas party, although I’m sure it made him feel better about it.”

“Then why?—”

“My turn,” Damon interrupted and then slid the ice from his stomach, his skin bright red from the cold underneath.

“Here, let me,” I said with a huff. Going to his closet, I pulled what looked like the nicest shirt from its hanger and wrapped the second bag of ice with a sleeve. Sliding one knee onto the bed, I returned the cold to his stomach without it being too intense.

My heart yo-yoed, drawing toward the intense heat of his stare before dipping back into my chest. Was it a mistake to get closer to him?Yes. Was I going to make it look like I regretted it now?No.

The fingers of his right hand twitched on top of the bed. With just the slightest lean, he’d be able to reach my bent knee. Another lean and he’d make it to my thigh. And with the slightest invitation, all the way to the heat of my sex, the only part of me that grew more drenched the longer I was in his presence.

“What’s your question?” I prompted.

“What was your saddest memory in the last fifteen years?”

Happy—sad—he knew so many details of my life. Facts but not the extremes. Not the moments when my smile attemptedto break my cheeks or when tears threatened to drown my chest. He didn’t just want to hear about himself—about what I might feel for him. He wanted these precious parts of me, and somehow, I realized that might be worse.

“I lost a friend…Rosa. She was one of my operatives, and McCullough…he killed her. The son, not the father.” Not that the distinction made any difference. They were both horrible. The father for funneling innocent, grieving people into Sinclair’s scheme and the son for preying on young women.

Damon’s fingers twitched again, as though they wanted to reach for mine.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s not my fault. I know they were—are aware of the danger they signed up for. But I still…I promised to protect her—I would’ve done anything to protect her, but I couldn’t. And when Mara…I feared the worst.” I didn’t know why I was telling him this. It wasn’t part of the answer. It wasn’t part of this game. It was…just part of me.

And part of him. Because he’d been the one to save Mara from being sold to Shazad. To rescue her and bring her back to me.

His hand inched a little closer, and I stared at it, willing it to find mine. To take my fingers in its warmth and to be able to take some comfort, no matter how small, for a pain I was still grieving.

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