Chapter 76 Did You Mean It?
Author’s Note: Hey fam! So remember when I gave a vague estimate for how many chapters were left? Well, I am here to confirm that chapter 79 will be the end of SIR. I get so emotional just thinking about it, and I am not even remotely ready for it to be over. But let's do the damn thing together.
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David leads me into his apartment, not commenting on the mess he has to guide me through. Or maybe he doesn’t even notice.
Between Danvers and me rushing around to get ready and leave, I haven’t exactly kept things neat and tidy. But maybe he knows that is the reason why there are random pieces of clothing knocked off the coat rack, pieces of paper on the floor from when I was trying to find more weapons and emptied all the drawers. Maybe Danvers has already warned him somehow. Maybe he knows I had been here running around like a tornado.
Maybe he just doesn’t care.
He just leads me to the bathroom, turning the taps on for the bath, never letting go of my hand. He reaches for the bottom of my top, but hesitates, and looks me in the eyes, as if he can silently ask for my permission.
Turns out that he can, because I nod.
He gently lifts my top, waiting for my arms to lift as well so that he can take it off, chucking it to the side. Then his hands are on my hips, and he is pulling me round, guiding me to sit on the edge of the bath as it starts to fill up.
He bends down, pulling my shoes off, then my socks. Slowly. Carefully. As though a quick movement would scare me away.
His hands briefly graze my calf as he moves up to the waistband of my leggings, pausing when my hands cover his, and bring them up for me to look at properly.
His knuckles are split, bleeding, and red. They match his face, where blood has now dried on his split lip, his temple, and the side of his nose. I can’t stop myself from running a finger over the cuts, with David tensing his jaw to stop himself flinching away from me. My hand runs down his neck, to his chest, to the buttons on his shirt. I can feel him breathing deeply underneath my palm. My fingers wrap around the first button, ready to undo it, when we both hear a knock from the front door.
David’s head snaps to the sound, and I see him exhale with gritted teeth. He stands, carefully prising my fingers from his body.
“Get in. I’ll be back.” He whispers as he presses his lips to the top of my head, and then disappears from the room.
Suddenly, the hot steam in the bathroom feels suffocating. I’m not sure what has been interrupted, but I know it was heading somewhere back towards something I have been craving for weeks.
I rid myself of the rest of my clothes, feeling pissed off now, and step into the warm bath, turning the taps off now that the water is high enough. Reaching to the windowsill, I grab some of the bottles, smelling each one until I find one that I like, pouring some of it into the bath and swirling it around until bubbles form in the water.
It has been a while since I have had a bubble bath. But somehow David knows it is exactly what I need. I lean back, closing my eyes, and try to process everything.
My father is an abhorrent person, inside and out. I have known that for years. He may have deserved what Rhys did, but there is still something miserable about the fact that I have now lost both my parents. That he has just been killed. Something heart-breaking about how he just been lying to me about my mother all this time, telling me she’d had a car crash, but knowing he is the reason she is dead.
My mother didn’t deserve a single thing she’d gotten. She may have had an affair, but she should never have settled for my father. She deserved so much more. She shouldn’t have had to pay the price for his heinous coping mechanisms. She was murdered for following her heart, and I have spent all this time grieving her death in completely the wrong way.
I never could have imagined Rhys shooting a gun, let alone at my father. He’d always had a soft spot for me, sure, but I always assumed Rhys is loyal to Malcolm through anything. I wonder what Rhys is going to do now, whether he’ll never step foot back in this world, whether he will stay in touch with me. Whether he regrets shooting his closest friend, or whether he finally feels as though my mother has been avenged.
I wonder how many people are left standing in Malcolm’s organisation. Danvers and I culled about half of them on our way in, but I wonder whether Theo, Harlan, Marcus, and all the others have killed the rest, or tried to recruit them.
I think about what David said. How he’d never let anything happen to me even if I want nothing to do with him. I think about the fact that he went to the house in the first place, just to save me. How he left Sel’s that morning without saying anything.
I have a sudden memory pop into my head of when this all started, with David and me standing in his kitchen, his hands on my face, telling me that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to me.
I open my eyes.
I’d also run back to the house, when I thought he was in danger. Even after everything, I still can’t stand the thought of him being hurt. Of me not being able to see him again.
He brought me back here.
After he said he was bringing me home.
My thoughts are halted when the bathroom door opens. David steps in, his jacket and shoes now gone, and his face clean of blood. When I look down, his hands are cleaned up too.
I swallow before speaking, sitting up a little, the bubbles clouding around me.
“Who was it?” I ask.
“Rhys.” He replies simply, making my eyebrows raise in shock. “I’ll talk to him properly in a couple of days.”
“About what?”
He just breathes quietly in response and steps closer to the bathtub, sitting carefully on the edge, his hand coming to my face to brush some hair away from my eyes.
“We don’t have to worry about Malcolm anymore.” He decides to say, a soft tone to his words that softens the blow of him admitting that my father is dead, even though I know it anyway. “But I need to talk to Rhys about what’s going to happen next.”
I nod, not quite sure how I feel about the fact that Rhys is so willing to work for another mob family so quickly. But then again, it doesn’t really surprise me. Rhys usually throws himself into his work whenever shit hits the fan. It is how he copes.
I wonder if he has asked David about me.
“He said he’s going to call you in a few days to talk.” David continues. “If you want.”
“I’m not sure.” I admit, but I feel a little warm and happy that Rhys isn’t just going to drop me from his life. “I’m not sure if that is what I want. Right now anyway. It’s… a lot has happened today.”
“What is it you do want?” David asks, and I take a second to just look at him before answering.
I realise he still has his hand on my face, resting on my cheek, his bright blue eyes waiting for my answer. Any answer I am willing to give him.
And there is only one way I can think of answering at that moment.
I sit up a bit more, reaching my hands out to the buttons of his shirt, taking us both back to the moment before Rhys knocked on the door. The moment where I am pretty sure he is thinking the same thing as me. His eyes are locked on mine, clearly not caring that my wet hands are getting his shirt damp.
I undo the button.
His hand leaves my face and flies to my wrist, stilling any more movement. His eyes flick down to my lips, then back up.
“Nora…” He breathes. “We…”
“Did you mean it?” I ask, leaning slightly closer to him. “You said you’d never let anything happen to me. Did you mean it?”
“Until the day I die.” He replies quickly, as though he never even has to think about it. His eyes are focusing more on my lips now.
“Then please…” I whisper. “Stay.”
He takes a breath.
Then he surges forward, and kisses me.