Chry clasped his hand and pulled him inside. “I need to talk to you.”
“Come on. We don’t have all day.”
As they came into the kitchen, her gran had a steaming platter of pancakes, three place settings, syrup, butter, and three mugs of steaming coffee.
She came over to 2-Stroke. “It’s been a long time, boy. Too long. She hugged him tight and Chry watched his face as it contorted, then relaxed as he hugged her back.
“I never thanked you for taking me in when you did. You saved my life.”
“Oh, sit down,” she said, waving her hand and sniffing. “I never regretted a moment of it. You have grown up to be a fine man.”
They sat down and she lifted the platter and passed it around. 2-Stroke talked about his brother, the death of his stepmother, which her gran only huffed at, and that they had cleaned out the house. He pulled a small square box out of his pocket. “I saved this for you. I know how much you love…well, open it.”
Her gran accepted the box and lifted the lid. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Neo. I adore it.”
“It was in with a lot of jewelry, but I remembered you loved cameos.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled, and it was easy and warm. Had he dropped all his barriers? She was dying to talk to him alone.
“Well, I’m going to go get my shower done. I’ll clean this up later. You two shoo. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“We can walk to Jackson Park,” Chry suggested.
“You sure you’re up for that?”
“Yes, I’ve done it a lot.” Of course, that had been with her cane. But she was determined to stand on her own two feet, regardless of what 2-Stroke had to say.
He rose, and after grabbing a light jacket, she followed him out.
He set a sedate pace and she was grateful. By about halfway there, she was regretting not bringing her cane. Her pride was going to be her painful downfall.
2-Stroke stopped and asked, “Are you all right?”
She bit her lip and said, “No. I should have brought my cane, but I thought I could make it.”
He slipped his arms around her and easily lifted her against him.
She smiled at him. “Should you be doing this?”
“Yes, I got a clean bill of health, and unlike someone I know, I rested when I was told to do so.”
“Okay, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes.”
When he reached the park, he set her down on a bench, then settled down beside her, turning toward her.
“I have been thinking about this for a long time. I know it’s not going to be easy, but—”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“What? No. I don’t want to get rid of you. I love you, Chry. I don’t want to go back to San Diego without you and me having a plan. You can keep your place. I won’t pressure you to move in with me—”
“What if I want to move in with you?”
His gaze softened, and he smiled at her. “You do?”
Chry tried to smile, but emotion lodged in her throat, and she looked away trying to bring it under control. When she finally managed to speak, her voice was still wavering a bit. “Yes, I do.”
2-Stroke caught her under the chin and lifted her head, forcing her to meet his gaze, his expression taut. “This isn’t going to be easy. I’ll be deployed a lot, back into harm’s way, but for the first time in a long time, I have clarity of mind about why I’m doing all this.” His eyes dark and somber, he drew his thumb across her cheek, then eased in a deep breath. “It’s for you and the country and all the relationships and the people I love. I’m a shield and a sword and proud to be both.”
Touched by his confession, even more deeply touched by the now warmth in his eyes, Chry touched his mouth, her fingers not quite steady. “I’m proud of all that, too. I know this will be tough and we’ll have to work at it, but the alternative is just unacceptable,” she whispered.
He looked at her, his gaze unwavering. “It is for me, too,” he said quietly. “I want this for us.”
Chry pulled her arms from around him and took his face in her hands, feeling such a rush of love for him that it made it hard to breathe. “I love you, Neo,” she whispered brokenly. “God, how I love you.
By the time he carried her back home and up the path to the house, her thigh was aching, and her head was throbbing. He moved toward her gran’s comfy couch and set her down. “Let me get you something to drink,” he said.
Maybe she did have to take it easier, and an hour’s nap would be good for her.
The next thing she knew, the feel of someone pulling the comforter up around her woke her, and she tried to swim through the gray weight of unconsciousness, her mind heavy with sleep. It vaguely registered that she was huddled in bed with her hands tucked under her cheek, trying to ward off the chill, her oversized T-shirt twisted up around her waist. Feeling as if she weighed a ton, she slowly opened her eyes, her body so heavy she couldn’t move. 2-Stroke was sitting on the bed beside her, his hand on her shoulder, gazing down at her. “Hello, sleepyhead.”
She stared at him, feeling almost drugged. “Hello, Prince Charming.”
He tucked the quilt around her shoulders, then drew her hair from around her face, his touch warm and comforting. “Does your leg hurt?”
She nodded, and 2-Stroke helped her take some pain reliever and some sips of water. “Do you do this for all the damsels?”
“No, only the difficult ones.” He started rubbing her thigh, a smile appearing in his eyes. “You overdid it, beautiful.”
She didn’t even have the energy to smile.
He snuggled the comforter around the back of her neck, then rubbed her collarbone with his thumb. “Still cold?”
She nodded, feeling wonderful that he was here with her.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
Withdrawing his arm, he stood up and pulled off his belt and sweater, setting them over the armchair near her bed. Taking his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, he laid it on the bedside table, then stretched out beside her. “Come here,” he said, sliding his arm under her neck, pulling her toward him. “Let me warm you up.” He drew her head onto his shoulder, then kissed her on the forehead and wrapped both arms around her.
Chry closed her eyes and rested her arm across his chest, sighing contentedly.
“Your granny doesn’t still have that shotgun, does she?”
Chry started to laugh softly. “As a matter of fact, she does.”
“Hmm, maybe I better get out of your room before she fills my ass with buckshot.”
“I don’t think she can tell us what to do anymore. We’re not teenagers.”
“No, and if she knew what I had been thinking back then, she would have filled my ass with buckshot.”
“Then I would also have to take a blast or two.”
He chuckled and she was content to listen to his breathing until she fell asleep. When she woke up again, she felt completely refreshed. She looked at the clock and saw it was nine and the sun had gone down.
He had taken off his jeans and T-shirt, leaving only his briefs on. It was clear that night wood lay beneath the hard ridge of cotton. She ran her hand over him, and he stirred. When she delved under the waistband, cupping all that powerful hard heat, he groaned, turning toward her.