He leaned toward me, his tone cautious, and he ordered gently, “Baby, come back to bed.

I ignored him and carried on, this time my voice hoarse, beginning to grate, sounding like it would break, “You didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t have you.”

“Sylvie, come back to me.”

My voice was abrasive when I declared, “I’ll take nightmares every night for the rest of my f**king life if it comes with waking up to you.”

He reached out a hand, caught mine but I leaned back, putting my weight into tearing free.

I couldn’t because Creed held tight.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I said that, beautiful. I should never have said that.”

“I watched you in my rearview mirror,” I told him.

He pulled on my hand and his voice was gruff when he pleaded, “Baby, f**kin’ please, come back to bed.”

“I was so happy.”

“Jesus, Sylvie.”

“I sat on that pier for hours the next day. It was so hot, the Snickers bars melted in their wrappers. I got sunburn.”

His hand tugged at mine and his voice was harsh when he said, “Fuck me, Sylvie, please, come back to bed.”

“I looked everywhere. I couldn’t find you.”

“Fuck.”

“Days, I looked and I couldn’t find you.”

“Baby, please.”

My voice broke on my repeated, “I couldn’t find you,” and Creed was done.

I knew this because he yanked on my arm and I went flying to him. Then I was in his arms in bed, tucked mostly under him, one of his hands cupping the back of my head, pressing it into his throat, both arms holding me tight.

“I couldn’t find you,” I whispered into his skin.

“I’m here.”

“You always protected me.”

“Fuck me, f**k me, f**k me,” he murmured into the top of my hair.

“When Daddy gave me to him, I knew you’d come back and take me away. Take care of me.”

“Fuck, Sylvie.”

“You didn’t come back.”

Creed said nothing.

I lay in his arms and it hit me what I was saying and what it must sound like.

“I don’t blame you,” I told him quickly.

Creed said nothing.

“After that, what they did to that girl, I would have done the same thing,” I declared.

Creed said nothing.

“You did what you thought was right. You couldn’t know. We didn’t know Daddy was hooked on blow. Hooked so bad, in so deep, he had to pay Richard off with me.”

Creed said nothing.

“Creed.”

Creed rolled over me and by the time I turned in bed I heard what I suspected was the lamp from my nightstand crash against the wall.

Then I heard his roar, “Fuck me!” and I shot out of bed, pressed myself to his back and circled his middle with my arms.

I pressed my face into his skin, into my tat. “Sorry, baby, sorry, so, so, sorry. I should have shut up. I shouldn’t have kept talking.”

He twisted in my arms and his big hands cupped either side of my head, jerking it back with only a modicum of gentleness and his shadowed face was all I could see.

“You work that shit out, Sylvie, you work it out and you do it with me,” he growled.

“Okay.” I thought it best to agree immediately.

“You give me everything you got, I’ll deal.”

“Okay,” I agreed again, immediately.

“They took a month from me. They took six years from you. I’ll deal.”

“Okay.”

He used his hands on my head to yank me forward and I did a forced face plant in his chest before his arms wrapped around my head.

When I felt his chest expand with a huge breath then release I felt it safe to note, “They took a month from you, six years from me but they took sixteen years from us.”

“Yeah. And we’ll both deal with that shit by me makin’ love to you, planting my baby inside you and both of us, when we make more, all of us livin’ free, easy and happy for the rest of our lives, exactly how they did not want us to be.”

It was easy to agree to that one.

“Okay.”

Creed didn’t let me go and I let him hold me.

This went on awhile. So long I decided to move things on.

“Uh… Creed?”

“Right here, Sylvie.”

“This might not be the time but I’m thinking at least three kids, maybe four.”

His body turned to stone.

“Okay, three,” I said hurriedly.

Creed said nothing.

“Right, then, two. But, warning, I’m sticking on two.”

Creed still said nothing.

“Though, if it’s two boys, we have to go for a girl…” I paused, “and, uh, vice versa.”

Creed stayed silent but started walking me backwards to the bed. We weren’t too far so we went down in two steps, me on my back, Creed on top of me.

After we bounced twice and settled, Creed spoke.

“You want four kids, we best get to work, baby.”

I grinned.

There it was. Creed made it all better.

Unfortunately, he went on, “We stop at three, you get to an age where four isn’t healthy.”

Seriously?

“I’m not old, Creed.”

“Gotta have two years in between.”

“Is that a rule?”

“Yes.”

Seriously. Sometimes a bossy badass was annoying.

“Creed –”

His head was descending and I stopped talking when it froze in its descent for a moment before he dipped his chin and looked at me through the dark.

“It’s two oh five,” he announced weirdly.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s two oh five, baby.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, not understanding the information he seemed intent on imparting on me. Or, more to the point, not understanding why he seemed intent on imparting this information on me.

His lips came to mine. “You’re a minute into your thirty-fifth birthday.”

Oh. Yeah.

Right on!

“Yippee,” I whispered against his lips. I was pretty sure he was going to kiss me but he rolled, got on his ass, did something in the dark by the nightstand then he came back to me.

His hand trailed down my arm, found my wrist, lifted it and turned it so my hand was palm up.

I felt a box set in it.

“My girl’s green,” Creed murmured.

Oh shit.

Oh crap.

Oh f**k.