Page 152

“Oh my gosh, that would be amazing. A hotel, out of town where nobody knows where we are.”
For a second, and it’s only a split second, I have a flash of that night a year ago, when nobody was supposed to know where we were. Evie notices—she always does—and touches her hand tomy forearm.
I don’t say anything to her, but we exchange a look, my hand sliding off the steering wheel and into hers.
This… feels good. We’re making plans and living our lives despite the fact that the scar we have is still here.
When we get to our therapy session, it starts out fairly normal. He talks about our first session when I punched a hole in his door because he made Evie talk about being raped in front of me.
After that, it got better, but I’m surprised he didn’t have me arrested in the first month.
He tells us that the way you chose to feel about yourself is in your control. And how you deal with your feelings, that’s on you. No one else.
I didn’t understand what that meant in the beginning because there are things that happen in your life that you have no control over. But it’s up to you to heal. And only you.
It’s today he tells us, “I’m not sure there’s anything more I can help you guys with that you’re not dealing with,” he says, smiling, his eyes on mine and Evie’s hands locked together as we sit next to one another.
I asked Dr. Kane last month what he thought of me asking Evie to marry me. He said that it was up to me, but he said if it felt right, then he had no reservations. I would have thought for sure, given my outbursts in the beginning that he would tell me no. But he surprised me. I guess maybe I surprised him too.
The warm humid air is damn near suffocating outside. Through the parking lot, Evie slides her hand into mine. “Do you feel healed?”
I smile and lean into her as we walk through the parking lot toward my truck. “I guess so, but I still think therapy is a joke.”
She looks over at me, squinting into the sun. “Why?”
“I don’t think we need a therapist to talk about our feelings. Eventually, with time, everyone heals.”
She doesn’t say any more until we’re at my truck and I open the door for her. She backs up against the seat but doesn’t get in.
I press my body to hers, smiling. “You look beautiful all sweaty and bathed in sunlight.”
Evie rolls her eyes, her hands on my chest. Her eyes move to mine. “Do you feel healed?” she asks again, knowing I avoided the question with a smart-ass remark.
“No,” I admit, tension settling over me.
A frown settles on her lips. “I don’t either, but this feels good.”
I look between us. Unfortunately, I’m hard. She’s wearing a dress and showing her tits off a little. Of course I’m thinking about sex. “I could make it feel a lot better.” I slide my hands from her hips to her ass. “We haven’t had sex in my truck yet.”
“I will probably never have sex in a car again,” she notes, a familiar sadness to her words. Just because you’re functioning and healing, doesn’t mean you forget. There will always be parts of your life that are altered forever. That might be one of them for us. Drawing in a breath, Evie smiles. “I meant us, together. It feels good to be this way with you.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” I press a kiss to her salty lips. She ate chips in the lobby.
Part of me thinks about doing it right now in the parking lot. It reminds me of the day I was released in Birmingham and couldn’t wait another second to kiss her. But I don’t, because she deserves something better.
69
GRAYSON
My nerves reach an all-time high when we get to The Point. I check to make sure the ring is in my pocket, and then help Ethan with the equipment.
Everything kind of passes in a blur because I can’t focus. I keep going over and over what I want to say to her and still have no plan.
We play two sets before Ethan yanks me aside. “You still doing it tonight?”
“That’s the plan.” I smile with a hint of nerves. “After this song?”
“Yeah, that works. You got the ring?”