Page 92 of Savagely Yours
He flicked a glance at me. “Uh…yeah. Exactly.”
I polished off my cheese.
He removed the cork from the bottle of wine and took a swig. I reached for the bottle, but he held it up to my mouth. Then, he watched as I took a mouthful, and when a dribble escaped down my chin, he bent to lick away the droplet. I used the opportunity to steal a kiss and allowed myself to indulge in the fruity notes on his tongue left behind by the wine.
We let up for air.
It took me a minute to open my eyes.
And, unsurprisingly, he was looking right at me.
“You knew the people would have decided not to intervene, didn’t you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t know.”
“But you believed that’s where they’d lean.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have your heart. I lean more toward cynicism and disappointment. I’m wired that way. I don’t expect good things or kindness. I hope for them, but I don’t expect them.”
“Yet, you supported me anyhow.”
“You’re talking to a guy with a high school diploma. You have a law degree, and you got into that DOJ Honors program, which is competitive as hell, and that basically fast-tracked your career to the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
The stinging returned, and my words came out harsher than intended.
“Which means what?”
“That we don’t have to be on the same page about how people might or might not react to something,” he said. “You’re fucking brilliant. I trust you and your judgment.”
“You’re fucking brilliant too.”
“Yeah, but without the military?—”
“You would have found a different way to defy the odds,” I argued. “You’re an amazing, accomplished man, Dez. Amazing. Don’t put me on a pedestal unless you’re prepared to be up there with me.”
My voice broke, and the first tear fell. I tried for the words, but they remained lodged in my throat.
Dez kissed me again, this kiss more tender than the last. “Want to hear something funny?” he prefaced. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for months, and now, I get to. It’s crazy how that works. I should’ve made my move so much earlier.”
I swiped at one eye. “How are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Stabbing me in the heart.”
He set the wine bottle aside and took my hand. “Larke, you’re not the first person to make it out of Sanitation, but you’re the first person to use your escape to benefit them.”
“They were trying.”
“They were making moves, yeah. And I’m not saying that anyone in Sanitation deserves their circumstances, but what if this isn’t your fight to lead? Babe, you keep jumping to the front of the line. At this point, I think you go into action on autopilot, but you’ve become so accustomed to protecting that I don’t think you realize what it’s costing you. And yes, many times, you get shit done, but when you look around, are there more people standing next to you or behind you?”
He kissed my forehead.
My eyes automatically closed.
“And here’s the even more fucked up part,” he added. “I don’t think there’s anyone standing in front of you. No one’s taking those bullets, those blows. Most of the time, theyarebehind you. Sometimes, they’re beside you?—”
“But never in front,” I finished. “Until you came along.”
