Chapter 109 Carry On

Chapter 109 Carry On
Dorian smiled. "She reminds me of Gael... in a good way. The life I could have had before Dorian."
She made him feel stripped of the Knox name and seen in a way he hadn't realized he needed. 
It was grounding and freeing to remember for more than an hour or two phone call that Dorian was a mask with a social security number and he could change that mask when he wanted, not just when he was told. He could ditch it, too and wear his bare face without anyone knowing the wiser. Sure, no one outside his family would ever call his name, but... But one day Lydia might.
Maybe around the same time he'd know what her real name was.
"Remember that before you decide to sabotage yourself," Mason said. "And that maybe she feels the same way."
Dorian smiled, sighing into the sound of the waves washing in through the windows. "I'll try."

Lydia's family stayed for a week, three of those days they went back and forth from the hospital while Lydia remained in observation for the concussion. The others they stayed in Dorian's villa and  got comfortable with him being around for meals, checking in on Lydia in a rotation with Reign and Dani who now had codes and keys to his door. The Sidaris Family lawyer, an uncle who maintained the Sidaris last name had come to introduce himself and tease Dorian a little. 
"Living up to your namesake in the best ways," he'd said jostling him. "Don't worry. Between me and the warrior of a lawyer her brother has back in Chicago, their little clique will be destitute within the year."
That had been the promise, but he knew it would be more than that. The Tolberts and their bottom-feeding friends were barely affiliated with another family. It wouldn't be easy dealing with them, even though Sidaris was a founding family.
He'd expected Lydia to go back to her villa after they'd driven her family to the dock, onto the ferry, and all the way to the airport to see Quillan and her grandfather off after taking her mom to the Centurion's staff housing, but she hadn't.  
It had been two nights of her staying with him, and tonight he couldn't sleep, knowing she was here, feeling that she was awake was making it impossible to even pretend not to know that they hadn't talked about everything they needed to talk about, hadn't even scratched the surface of this thing building between them, and now he'd met her family. He slipped out of bed, hopped and wiggled into something that passed for pajamas and shuffled downstairs. The light from the kitchen was on. 
"I can hear the gears in your head turning from upstairs."
She looked up, from the sketchbook beside her, a cup in hand. The bruises were that ugly green and yellow beneath her skin. 
"What’s bothering you?"
She dropped her gaze. 
"…what happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
She shifted in her seat. “With… with everything?”
Dorian frowned, eyeing the space between them. 
“What are you getting at?”
“You know now. That I… that…”
His heart lurched and he crossed the room, cupping her face. 
“I need you to look at me when I say this. Can you manage that right now?”
Her eyes turned glossy and she nodded, staring up at him. 
“What happened to you… when you were too young to be in that position, too young to be dragged through the courts like that, what they said, what they did to you and your brother have nothing to do with us.”
She blinked furiously. 
“The pain they’ve caused you, they’ll pay for a hundred times over, but that has nothing to do with how you should be and will be treated by me or anyone worth your light.”
Her eyes widened. She stilled really looking at him. What she heard, what she saw, he couldn’t guess, but he’d give anything to keep her eyes trained on him like this. 
“Lydia,” he whispered. “I meant what I said to your mom. I mean it, but it’s your pacing call.”
“Dorian, you can’t…”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” He swept his thumbs over the swell of her cheek. 
“Nothing happens if you don’t want. Nothing. Not even this happens if you don’t want.” He pulled back, but her hands came up holding him there. “Your past pain does not change who you are or how I feel about you.”
“And… how do you feel about me?”
Dorian swallowed. “I… really want this to head toward real if it’s not already for you. I can’t say when it turned real for me, but it is.”
Painfully, beautifully, impossibly real. 
Her jaw trembled and she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing. She trembled against him. 
“It is,” she gasped. “Real. Scary real.”
“My heart’s racing, too.”
“But I—“
“No,” he cut her off, pulling her into his arms. “That’s all.”
“But what if I can’t ever—“
“My hand and lube works just fine.”
She laughed, gasping and watery. “Be serious.”
He cupped the back of her head, squeezing her close. “I am… I hope that one day you’ll have seen the safety and assurance you need in me. I hope one day that you’ll let us go there, but if it’s too much, if it’s not meant to be, we’ll deal with it.” He stroked her hair. “I’m a man who likes sex, but I’m not a monster, Lydia.”
“I… don’t think I could handle you resenting me.”
“I can’t resent you for a choice I’m making. I’m not a child.” He chuckled and kissed her temple. “I can’t resent a choice you aren’t even making.”
She pulled back. “What do you mean?”
He pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “Trauma has a way of making decisions before you know there’s one to make, and it’s still not your fault.”
She sniffled. “I hate that.”
“So do I.”
She clenched her fists in his shirt. “I want to be making my own decisions.”
“I think you will one day, and no matter what they are, I’ll respect it.”
She glanced up at him. Her jaw trembled. “I… I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“Could… Could I stay with you?” She grimaced. “I hate the way it sounds when… when…”
He sighed. “Remind me to punch Ken in the throat at the first opportunity. Come on. Bring your tea and your sketchbook if you want.”
She hesitated, but picked up her cup and took his hand. He led her up the stairs, heart pounding against his chest. She followed, quietly, down the hall to his bedroom. He gestured. 
“Which side would you like?”
She rounded to the other side nearest the window and furthest from the door. Good. When she’d climbed in, she sat, watching him with wide eyes.
“Do you like a bit of light?”
She nodded and he opened the blinds enough that the moonlight spilled across the floor.
“Should I put more clothes on?”