Page 70 of Vicious Deception

The sun has set, and I’m able to raise my head just enough to see the clock. It’s a little before ten, so we’ll need to get up soon, or we’ll be late to our meeting.

“Sweetheart,” I whisper. I don’t want to disturb her, but I want some time with her before we leave.

She moans softly. Her fingers curl around my shirt before she slowly lifts her head. “Hmmm?”

“It’s time to wake up.”

With a groan, she presses her face into my shoulder. Yet another thing I’ve missed—how cute she is when she’s waking up.

“You can stay asleep if you’d like,” I tell her softly, “but we’ll have to leave soon, and I was hoping for some time before we go.”

“I’d like that,” she mumbles.

Letting out an amused breath, I ask, “Sleep? Or time?”

“You,” she groans.

The two of us stay just like that for a few minutes while she wakes up. As my fingers run up and down her arm, she stretches out and kisses my cheek.

“I love you,” she whispers.

My eyes close. Every day, I thought about seeing her again, about finally telling her how I feel. I scolded myself for hesitating—hatedmyself for not making sure she knew. There’s no way I can wait any longer.

Slowly, I sit up, and Wren moves with me. She turns toward me and drapes her arms around my neck. I cradle her body against mine. God, I was so afraid I’d never see her again.

“Wren,” I murmur. “Wren, I . . .”

“It’s okay,” she tells me.

For a brief second, I think of my father. He’s not capable of this kind of gentleness—of this kind of care. At certain parts of my life, I was convinced I was the same way. The guys and Wren helped me to realize that’s not true.

“I need you to know,” I tell her. “I need you to know that I’ll always fight my way back to you. That I tried—that I never would’ve stopped trying.”

“I do know.” Her lips brush against mine, the barest hint of a kiss. “I promise I know. But I don’t want you to tell me.”

Gently, she detaches herself from me and stands. She turns on the lamp, illuminating the room in a soft glow, before pulling me into the bathroom. We both brush our teeth, and she showers since she was too tired to earlier.

While I’m waiting for her to finish, I lower myself onto the bed. I have to tell her. Iwantto tell her—promised myself I would.

Not until you can say it without it making you uncomfortable,she told me.Without it making you think of him.

Can I do that?

Dammit.I want to be ready. I think I might be, but I don’t want to betray her trust.Whydo I have to be so hardened? So closed off? Why does this come so much easier to the others?

Frustrated, I rub my face. The guys have told me time and time again that I’ve come so far. I know I have, but it’s not enough. They all deserve better. And now, I have two brothers in the picture—one who looks up to me way too much, and one who I’ve threatened to kill more times than I’d like to admit.

They need someone to watch out for them. They need an example of how to live that isn’t tainted by Richard. I’ll always have some of him in me, but I’ve done my best to purge him from my system. And I’ll never fucking stop.

When Wren comes out of the bathroom, she’s wrapped up in a towel. Her hair is up since she said she washed it yesterday, so when she turns toward the dresser, my heart stops. There, on the back of her neck, is the same butterfly I have on my hand.

“Wren,” I say breathlessly. “Your . . . your neck.”

“Hmm? Oh.” She grabs a shirt from a drawer before moving toward me. “I didn’t want to wait. I was afraid we’d never . . .” She winces, not finishing her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

“I’m glad you got it.”

“It helped me feel closer to you.” Her eyes turn glassy, and she blinks rapidly. “I know it’s stupid, but—”