Page 78 of Damascus & The Wildfire
He tensed before exhaling. “Because being with me puts a target on your back. The life I live is dangerous. If you’re mine in every way,then you’re safer. There’s an unspoken rule among clubs that old ladies and kids are off limits. I’ll be more comfortable bringing you into my world if I know you’re safe.”
I bit my lip and sighed before nestling into the warmth of his body. “I just don’t want to lose myself in all of this. I want to be with you. But I want to be me, too.”
He kissed the top of my head and tightened around me. “You will be, Wildfire. Always. That patch doesn’t change who you are. It just tells the world you’re mine—and that I’m yours.”
I smiled against his skin, the tension in my chest easing. “Well, when you put it like that …” I trailed off. Was I ready for this? Was I OK with the entire concept?
Merrick pulled away, looking into my eyes. “Is that agreement?”
I shrugged. “You seem to have at least fucked me into agreeableness.”
He chuckled and pulled me closer. “Property of Merrick. Has a nice ring to it.”
I rolled my eyes. “You would think that.”
He brushed a hand on my bare shoulder, noticing the chill on my skin. “Let’s get dressed and go back to my place. As much as I’d love to sleep under the stars with you, my back will hurt for a week if we stay out here.”
I giggled, and he kissed the tip of my nose. “Old man.”
He stood, zipped his jeans, then offered me his hand. “Just wait until you’re my age.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I woke up tangled in Merrick’s arms, the weight of his body heavy and grounding. Carefully, I slid out from under him, grabbed my phone from the nightstand, and slipped quietly out of the bedroom.
In the kitchen, the smell of brewing coffee filled the air as I sat on the couch, scrolling on my phone. The device pinged, and my chest tightened in anguish as I read the text message. Over the past few weeks, I’d avoided calls from Alec’s mother and sister. Now I knew why they’d been so insistent. Grief cracked open in me raw and fresh, like no time had passed at all. They wanted me to return to our alma mater for the ribbon cutting of a new child development lab—one they were naming in his honor.
I didn’t even hear Merrick until the deep timbre of his voice cut gently into the silence. “What’s wrong, Wildfire?”
Startled, I handed him my phone, not trusting myself to speak without my voice cracking. His brow furrowed as he read it, then lifted his steady gaze back to me.
“You should go,” he said, his voice low and steady.
Tears pricked hot, and I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”
He sat beside me, pulling me into his chest in a tight embrace thattold me I didn’t have to hold myself together. His lips brushed my temple. “I’ll go with you.”
I blinked up at him. “Really?”
“Really,” he said firmly.
I swallowed hard. “It’s just … going back there, seeing everyone, remembering …”
Merrick squeezed my hand. “I know. But sometimes, the only way through is to face it. Alec deserves to be remembered. And you deserve to heal.”
I wiped at my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. “Maybe.”
He smiled, just a little. “So, a child development lab?”
Grateful for the distraction, I exhaled. “Alec was a child psychologist. He wanted to work in public schools and help kids who were struggling. He always said if he could change just one kid’s life, it was enough.”
Merrick nodded, his expression thoughtful. “He sounds like a good man.”
“He was,” I whispered.
There was a silence, heavier but not uncomfortable. Then Merrick cleared his throat, almost uncertainly. “You want kids?”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “No. Alec did, though. It was always a pain point between us.”
