Page 114 of Freeing Denver
“She’s sleeping.”
“She’s my—” He stops himself, a wise choice, because if he’d called her his wife, he might not leave this house alive. “I have a right to at least see her.”
“You lost your rights to her a long time ago, Ranger,” I say. “Your help these last few weeks doesn’t erase what you did to her. If she wants to see you, she will, but I’m not waking her up so you can ease your conscience for the past eight years of mistakes.”
He takes a step forward, and so does Taf, but neither man makes it far, because Ranger stops. He stops and his anger dissipates, and I know without turning that Denver is on the stairs behind me.
Ranger stares at her, loud desperation in his eyes, and something we share comes to life in his expression—the constant overwhelming urge to touch her.
Denver slips her hand into mine as she reaches the bottom of the stairs.
Ranger’s lips tilt into a small, concerned smile. “Hello, little bird.”
Chapter 34
Denver
“Do you want me to give you a minute?” Colt asks, and for some reason I nod, even though I’m not sure that’s even close to what I want. I woke up in the new safe house, Colt and Ranger’s voices drifting up the stairs, and though I’m bone tired I couldn’t lie in anticipation to see where the conversation would go. They’ve worked together to find me, but now I’m back. Things could easily turn ugly. “Living room is through there.” Colt nods to the door to our left, kissing my temple. “I’m one room away, Del.”
Ranger follows me into a plush, cream and white decorated room that feels far too comfortable for such an uncomfortable conversation. I never dreamed I’d make it home, let alone that I’d find myself alone with Ranger Luxe again.
I take a seat on one of the sofas, my palms wedged between my knees, but he remains standing. He seems torn between wanting to hug or shout at me, as if any moment he could start pacing and berating me, like no time has passed, like I haven’t married another man and spent months away from what used to be our home.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
What a loaded question. I’m not, of course I’m not, but the only man who will ever get that truth from me is not him. My expression must tell him that, because he looks away.
“I looked for you.”
I wet my lips. “Are you expecting a thank you?” He opens his mouth, then immediately snaps it closed again. “You demanded to see me, Ranger. I’m here. What do you want to say?”
“I—” His jaw tenses. “I wanted to see you to check if you’re okay. Is that so hard to believe?”
I lean back into the plush cushions. “Are you the only one who’s allowed to break me?”
Am I deliberately baiting him? Maybe. Perhaps part of me wants this argument to snowball, to unravel, to have Colt walk through the doors and put a bullet between my ex-husband’s eyes so I don’t have to.
Instead, Ranger keeps himself leashed and takes a seat on the sofa opposite me, clasping his hands together. His dark gaze remains fixed on me—the center of his attention, as always—but it no longer has the desired reaction.
“You’re the only person I have left.”
After losing Axel, I thought there could be bridges built between us. Nothing that could hold the weight of a friendship or even an acquaintance, but a check-in, maybe. A chance meeting at his son’s grave that was amicable.
But I’ve lost so much time in the hands of monsters. I’ve been passed between men who want to control me, shatter the woman I’ve fought to be, and I won’t allow too many minutes to tick by when I have a life I need to live.
“In that case, you have no one,” I say simply, and stand.
“Denver, please,” he says quietly. “I’m not asking you to …” His graze strays to my stomach, and I see the break.
His shoulders slowly dip, and the softness in his eyes becomes … nothing. If he weren’t moving, if I couldn’t see thesteady thrum of his pulse in his neck, I’d think Ranger Luxe had died in front of me.
“I just wanted you to know I’m here,” he says, averting his gaze. “That I’m here, that … it doesn’t matter how much time passes, or who you marry, or where we are. I love you. I’ll always love you. I—” He flexes his hands, and I watch him in the same way I’d watch a car wreck—with morbid curiosity. He stands and rounds the coffee table, stopping before me, and I’m thrown back so many years, to our first meeting in the foyer of a home we shared as man and wife. Where we were happy, even if it was only for a little while. He’s that same domineering man, so handsome, so terrifyingly present that maybe I’d fallen in love with him from the time it took him to descend the stairs. So when he reaches for me, I don’t stop him—because I’m twenty-one again. I’m a kid, and I’ve lost so much, and I’m so desperate to hold onto anything that will keep me grounded that I’ll fall in love with a monster. Ranger cups my cheek, his thumb sweeping across the bruise I know is there, and he gives me a look he’s only graced me with handful of times.
One of total vulnerability—of love.
“He can’t put you back together again, little bird,” he whispers. “As long as you’re here, you’ll always be this broken thing. You’ll die by his side.”
It’s another attempt at manipulation. Our relationship was built on the forced belief that I can’t survive without him, but I’ve not just witnessed hell, I’ve experienced it. I’ve had my dignity torn to pieces, my pride thrown to the wind, my freedom snatched from me in more ways than I’m willing to admit.
