Forgiven Page 19

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Mia

  Luke came slowly back into himself. By the afternoon, his bewilderment had faded, leaving his usual grumpy self with a hell of a headache.

  “I’m going home.” He slid gingerly off the bed. “Where’s my boots?”

  “Over there.” I made no move to fetch them, though. The ward doctor wanted to keep him in another night, and I hadn’t argued. The hospital had become a sanctuary of sorts, and I wasn’t quite ready to face the real world.

  Luke had other ideas. He shuffled around the bed, coming to a stop by his work boots. He stared at them for a long moment before looking over his shoulder. “Any chance you could pick them up for me?”

  “None at all. Get back on your bed.”

  He glowered, but I loved it. The empty expression he’d worn for most of the previous night haunted me, and I’d take pissed-off Luke over that any day of the week.

  After a beat of stubborn silence, he sighed and returned to the bed. He didn’t sit beside me, though. He sat on the chair and rested his head on my thigh. I rubbed the back of his neck, absently humming, until I remembered something I’d intended to tell him the moment he’d woken up from his last concussion-fuelled nap. “Rebecca called. She’s going home for a few hours, then she wants to come and see us this evening.”

  Luke raised his head. “What for?”

  “She didn’t say, but she seemed to think it was safe for Gus to go home, so...” I realised there wasn’t much point to what I was saying. “Anyway. That’s later on, so maybe you could try and eat something and come back to bed?”

  “The only bed I’m going back to is my own, and you’re coming with me.”

  Put like that, it was hard to resist him, but with pain still creasing his earnest eyes, I held firm until a doctor came by and took Luke’s side.

  “If you’re keeping food down and steady on your feet, there’s no reason you can’t go home, though I do recommend you have someone with you for the next forty-eight hours.”

  I was going to be with Luke for the rest of his life, so that wasn’t really an issue. “Are you sure he’s okay? You scanned him, didn’t you?”

  “Twice,” she said. “There’s no bruising or bleeding on the brain. He will feel the effects of the concussion for a week or so, but he’ll recover, and the best place to do that is at home.”

  Luke was already halfway back to his boots. The doctor vanished, taking with her another portion of the black cloud hanging over me. He’s okay. Well, he wasn’t, but he was going to be.

  I helped Luke into his boots, then took his arm as we left the ward and made our way out of the hospital. In the car park, I was glad the police officer who’d pulled me over had insisted I follow him, and that Gus had parked close to the entrance. I got Luke into my car, paid an eye-watering amount for parking, then got the hell out of Dodge.

  Mindful of the shit state of Buckinghamshire’s roads, I drove carefully back to Rushmere, avoiding the potholes and cracks. Beside me Luke was silent, staring out the window. I squeezed his unyielding thigh. “What are you thinking?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re miles away,” I said. “Where did you go?”

  “Nowhere. I was remembering how much I hate Aylesbury.”

  I laughed. “Still? You haven’t warmed to it at all after all these years?”

  “Nope.”

  I shook my head. Aylesbury was the closest big town to Rushmere—the place we had to go if we wanted a big supermarket or a branded store that wasn’t DIY related—but Luke had always detested it. I’d never quite figured out why.

  Thankfully, Rushmere wasn’t too far away, and conscious of Luke’s desire for his own bed, I drove straight to his house. A car I didn’t recognise was on the driveway. Panic seized my chest, but Luke found my hand before it took hold.

  “It’s Fran,” he said. “Park next to her.”

  I did as I was told and hurried around the car to help Luke up, though he beat me to it, obviously, and was upright and waiting for me in the split second it took me to get there. “Dick.”

  “You know that’s not actually my name, don’t you?”

  “Prove it.”

  The banter was natural...warm, and kept me on my feet as we drifted into the house. Luke had spent much of our time in the hospital dozing, but I hadn’t slept a wink. It was a state of affairs I’d grown used to in recent months, but somehow knowing Morgan Benson was in custody, at least for the next few hours, had left me weak at the knees.

  Fran was in the kitchen, packing shopping away into Luke’s fridge. She gave him a cautious hug, eyeing me over his shoulder.

  I eyed her right back. Our brief exchange in the hospital had been nothing more than horrified exclamations. Other than that, we hadn’t spoken in years. Not since I’d turned up on her doorstep and screamed abuse at her for driving the love of my life away. God, I was such a bitch.

  Fran let Luke go and gently sent him off to the sofa. Then she came to me, and her hand on my arm didn’t feel as strange as I might’ve imagined. “How are you doing, sweetie? Can I get you anything? Tea? Something to eat?”

  It was early evening and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, but I shook my head. Having Fran run around after me was too weird, even for a day like this. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Yup.”

  Fran sighed. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Between us. Honey, Luke loves you so much, it would mean the world to me if we could get to know each other again.”

  The permanence of her statement hit me in soft waves. It had been a while since I’d last doubted how much Luke loved me, but until now, perhaps I hadn’t stopped long enough to consider what it meant. A new life in Rushmere had been my last resort, my worst nightmare come true, but I couldn’t imagine a world without him by my side. The decade we’d spent apart seemed as though it belonged in someone else’s life.

  I squeezed Fran’s hand. “I’d like that.”

  After she’d gone, I tracked Luke through the house and found him upstairs rather than in the living room. He was stripping the clothes the hospital had sent him home in—they’d cut his jeans away. The sun was setting, casting a shadow across Luke’s bedroom. I didn’t get a good look at his torso until I was a foot away from him.

  I stopped dead, caught in the vortex of the vicious bruising marking Luke’s body. Black and blue, skin torn and grazed, it was hard to imagine how he hadn’t been killed.

  A gasp lodged in my throat as he turned to face me. The bruise over his broken ribs was even worse, but he was with me before the scream escaped my lungs, kissing me, holding me, whispering soothing nonsense in my ears until I realised the wretched sobbing surrounding us was coming from me.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Luke

  I woke first, caught in a contradictory haze of being in agony, and horny as hell. Mia was still asleep, wrapped up in her coat, blond hair splayed over my pillow. I itched to rouse her, strip her clothes, and bundle her into my bed properly, but I didn’t dare wake her. The memory of her crying herself to sleep would haunt me forever, and I wasn’t ready to face the pain her eyes again just yet.

  Besides, a glance at the clock told me we’d only been asleep an hour. If I could just get comfortable and ignore the steel column my dick had turned into, I’d—

  A knock at the front door made me jump, and then groan loud enough to wake Mia. She raised her head, her pretty blue eyes bloodshot and drawn. “What is it? Are you okay?”

  Grimacing, I pointed downstairs and forced myself upright. “Someone’s at the door.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “No!”

  God no. I was in no state to fight, but I’d kill whoever was on the other side of that
door before they got to her.

  “Luke, it’s okay.” Mia got in between me and the bedroom door. “It’s Rebecca. I’m so sorry, I forgot she was coming.”

  “Rebecca?” The codeine I’d swallowed before we’d passed out had left my already disorganised brain slow and stuffy. It took a moment to place the name with the policewoman handling Mia’s case. “What does she want?”

  “Hopefully to tell us Morgan Benson has been charged. They arrested him, remember?”

  Perspective hit me like a truck. I sat down heavily on the edge of my bed, dizzy, sick—all the things they’d warned me about when we’d left the hospital.

  Mia knelt in front of me. “It’s her, I promise. I can see the police car out of the window.”

  The window. Fuck, my life would be a damn sight easier right now if I possessed an ounce of common sense. “You sure?”

  “Yes. I’m going to run down and get the door, okay? Stay up here if you’re not up to seeing anyone. I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

  Her promises would always be enough for me, but there was no way in hell I was hearing whatever Rebecca had to say second-hand. I let her go ahead, then made my best attempt to put myself back together. Sleep, though it had been fleeting, had stiffened the muscles contracting around my broken ribs, and it hurt to breathe.

  By the time I’d plastered a bland expression on my face and manoeuvred downstairs, Mia had apparently heard enough to set her temper alight.

  She paced my small living room like a lioness. “How can someone be convicted of this shit twice and still be free to reoffend?”

  Rebecca spread her hands. “It’s never been this serious, and even if it had, no one gets locked up forever anymore.”

  I was missing something, but the sight of Mia bubbling with rage, face flushed, fists clenched was comforting. For days she’d seemed so apathetic about her own safety.

  There was tea on the coffee table. I snagged one and gingerly lowered myself into the armchair. Mia came straight to me, her stare searching, like she was checking me for cracks.

  I tried for a reassuring smile, but her frown remained. Confused, I turned to Rebecca. “What have I missed?”

  Rebecca closed the folder in front of her. “I’ve been explaining to Mia what’s happened since we last spoke at the hospital. How are you feeling, by the way? Pretty sore, I’d imagine.”

  “I’ll live,” I said flatly. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  If Fran had been there, she’d have flicked my ear for being rude, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t interested in discussing my health. I needed to know this was over.

  Rebecca darted a glance at Mia, then finally held my gaze. “As you know, we arrested Morgan Benson this morning. Our enquiries have led us to search his house and other properties, and we’re now fairly certain that he was not only responsible for hitting you with a vehicle yesterday, but also for the recent incidents of harassment you and Mia have reported to us.”

  I nodded. It made sense, though I couldn’t begin to understand why.

  “There’s more,” Mia said when I didn’t speak. “He’s inflicted this on other people—twice, that he’s been done for.”

  “He has a history of stalking and harassment,” Rebecca supplied. “Though he’s never been violent before, that we know of.”

  “So what’s different about this time? Were the women he harassed single? Because that’s why he ran me down, right? Because I’m with Mia?”

  “We think so. When we searched his house, we found pictures of her, both recent and from many years ago. There were other local women too, and some photographs of you, but it was mainly Mia. We think her return to the area ignited an old obsession.”

  I sat back in the armchair, stunned, dazed, and weirdly relieved that it was all real.

  Mia touched my face. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “Are you?”

  Her lips twisted into a snarl. “I want to kill him for hurting you.”

  “Probably best keep that to yourself while we’ve got a house full of coppers, babe.”

  “You think this is funny?”

  “No, but he’s locked up now, and I’d take his car hitting me a thousand times if it ended this shit.”

  It wasn’t as simple as that. Nothing ever was. But I was glad it was me who’d been hit by that car. Perhaps I deserved it for everything I’d put her through.

  Rebecca said more words, but I zoned out, drifting instead further forward to what life could be like when this was all over, when our days went back to our brand of normal. I studied my cool, stark living room and wondered what it would look like if Mia got her hands on it. If the colour she brought to my life became literal. Someone—Billy, perhaps—had once asked me if the barren style I’d brought home from the navy was deliberate, if the military had drained my imagination. I’d denied it, but fuck, I’d been wrong.

  I’d been wrong about a lot of things, including my assumption that Morgan Benson was unimportant all those years ago when he’d been in our lives enough to become obsessed with Mia, and yet I’d never seen him enough to even remember his name. What did that say about me? Would we be in a different place right now if I’d shut this shit down ten years ago? Warned him off? Punched him in the face? Would that have been enough? Or would he have simply turned his attention to someone else? A woman without a bear of a brother and a lover who’d die for her. What had happened to us was shitty, but it could’ve been so much worse.

  Rebecca stood. Apparently the conversation was over. “I’ll be in touch,” she said. “But I do think it’s unlikely he’ll get bail even if the CPS only goes for the lighter charge.”

  Mia nodded, jaw set grimly, so I mirrored her and walked Rebecca and her colleague to the door. As she turned to leave, she put her hand on my arm. “It’s okay to be upset, Luke.”

  “I’m not upset.”

  “Fair enough. I’m just saying it would be a normal reaction if you were.”

  She left. I shut the door behind her and returned to the living room where Mia was still pacing.

  I leaned on the door frame. “Still plotting a murder?”

  “No.” She stopped and turned to face me. “I’m trying to absorb some of your freakish calm.”

  “Freakish?”

  “Yeah. I thought you’d be more upset that I really did have a fucking stalker.”

  Upset. It was the second time that word had been thrown at me in as many minutes. I turned it over and tried to match it to the emotions running through me, but nothing quite made sense. I shrugged. “I’m livid that it came to this. If it had been you mowed down by that car, I—fuck, I couldn’t be responsible for my actions, but—” I stopped and ran a hand over my aching head. “I don’t know. If this bloke’s done it before, it’s obvious he’s really fucking ill. Maybe him hitting me was the best thing to happen for everyone. Even him.”

  “I’d rather he’d hit me.”

  My blood ran cold. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? You have. Several times. And it’s not fucking okay, Luke. I don’t care how ill this man was, he hurt you, and I’ll always hate him for that.”

  I fended off an image of her flying through the air and landing crushed on the roadside. Jesus. Did this never fucking end? I sucked in a deep, painful breath, like full lungs and agony could somehow cleanse me of this bizarre nightmare.

  Mia crouched in front of me. “Are you really thinking like this? Because I have to say, you’re a better person than me.”

  “I’m not better than you in any way whatsoever. I’m just tired of worrying about shit I can’t control. All I want is to be with you.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “I do, Mia. More than ever.”

  Mia

  Sexual tension was a funny thing. One minute it hovered over you, a simmering haze you could work ar
ound, the next, it was all-consuming.

  I took Luke by the hand and led him upstairs, careful not to drag him like I truly wanted to.

  In his bedroom, I stripped him and pushed him gently onto his bed. We hadn’t made love in days, weeks, and despite everything that had happened, nothing and no one was stopping us now.

  I kicked my clothes aside and carefully straddled Luke’s waist, bending to kiss the ever-darkening bruises on his torso, and trace his ripped muscles with my tongue. His nipple found its way into my mouth, and he sucked in a breath as I gently dug my teeth in.

  “Don’t play with me.” His voice was harsh, and full of urgency. “Just take what you want.”

  I wanted him to throw me down, claim me, love me, own me, but he couldn’t, and perhaps that was how things should be. Maybe it was time I claimed him as my own, and we left the past behind. “I want you.”

  His only answer was to pull me on top of him, covering his pained gasp with a gentle kiss that set me on fire. He was hurting, but he didn’t care. He needed this from me, and he needed it now.

  I returned his kiss and slipped my tongue into his mouth, all the while fumbling to get him inside me as fast as humanly possible. His dick slid home, and I gasped as he filled me, stretching me, crammed inside me to the hilt.

  He consumed me, the pulse of where we joined reaching every part of me. My nerves sang, my veins buzzed, and only the desperate craving to tumble over the edge with him kept me from absorbing the almost meditative sensation forever.

  I rode him like he was made of glass. We were halfway to learning that sex cured nothing, but as I moved over him, the lines of pain faded from his face, and a glorious flush replaced it.

  “Mia.”

  Low and worshipful, his tongue wrapped around my name, and I squeezed my thighs together, a sheen of sweat breaking out over my entire body. “What? Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want me to do?”

  “I already did.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “Just love me, Mia. I don’t need nothing else.”