Daphne rises too and approaches me without fear. “That’s not the whole story. After you and I had our little conversation, I got news that my dad was dying. I had no idea his health had gotten so bad. Adam didn’t want me to know.”
“What?” I feel my face and neck flaming red. Like gasoline poured on my rage.
“It didn’t work. I talked to dad before he died.” She cups my face in her hands. Her touch calms the Beast. “Logan, he told me he was sorry for how things turned out. For what he and Adam did to you.”
“He...did?”
And the blows just keep coming. I barely get my balance before another blow all but knocks me off my feet.
“He did.” Her voice is gentle. Kind. “Unfortunately it was too late for me to get more details, so I could get proof or a confession against Adam, but if we dig, I bet we can find it.”
We?
My heart leaps. She’s talking about the future. Our future. But I failed her, over and over. How can she—?
“So that’s everything that happened,” she says, “until Tuesday happened.”
“What happened Tuesday?” Fuck, I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“That’s when I met with the board. They voted me out. But I still gave them copies of this.” She spins around to dig in her bag until she comes up with a sheet of paper, neatly folded.
I snatch it and read it with my phone’s flashlight. “You...resigned?”
“Yep.” Her voice turns more serious. “I have nothing, Logan. Not a thing. Just two dead parents, my degrees, and the Avicennius grant. Except that I sent you those two pieces of paper. So, technically, nothing. I have nothing, Logan.” She doesn’t look sad or bitter. She looks… calm. At peace. “I’m finally free. Completely free.” She flops her arms outwards. “It only took losing everything,” she laughs.
It doesn’t change the fact that she’s squatting in the ruined shell of her childhood home. Like a homeless person. Even in my great coat, she looks cold.
I’ve been the world’s biggest asshole.
This, in front of me, is my Daphne, the same as she ever was. Innocent of the world’s malice. Pure in all the ways that matter. She wasn’t trying to play rivals against one another or win fame or fortune. She has nothing and yet she still manages to be happy. And after everything I did, she can still look in my monster’s face and without batting an eye tell me she loves me.
She’s a fucking angel gracing this earth in a sexy-as-sin body.
“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that. Thank you for coming.” She pats the pockets of my coat, pulls out the papers and the rose. “I had a hell of the time convincing Armand to leave me here. He made me swear up and down I’d call him if you didn’t show up.”
“I’ll call him,” I say quickly.
“Are you jealous of Armand? Don’t be.” She lays everything on the table, then pulls on a pair of gloves. They look too large, but at least it’s something. She still looks cold, though. I don’t like it.
“You can’t stay here,” I say gruffly.
She raises a brow. “You’re kicking me out?”
“Yes… No! I’m not kicking you out. I mean, you should be at the castle, with me.”
“You hurt me, Logan.” Just a whisper, and it’s a dagger through my chest. I stumble back and lean against the door frame so I don’t fall to my knees.
“I know.” I tear a hand through my hair. My face feels naked without the mask. “I don’t trust easy. Or at all.”
“You haven’t had reason to,” she murmurs.
“No, don’t do that.” I point at her. “Don’t make excuses for me. I’m a monster.”
“You’re my monster.” She sways forward slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild animal.
“I don’t know what I can do to earn your forgiveness.” I can’t believe all this time I was trying to make her prove her love and devotion to me, when I should have been begging at her feet the entire time.
“You don’t have to earn my love, Logan. I’m giving it to you.”
And I sink to my knees. “Daphne.”
She kneels and hugs me, snuggling her head to my chest. Her weight over my heart...it’s everything.
“I gave everything up for you,” she whispers. “Belladonna. The patents…I’m not with you for them. I’ve let them all go. I want you for you.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” She’s breaking me, doesn’t she realize that? No one ever wants me. I’m a shit. I’m worthless. My own mom didn’t think I was worth sticking around for. No foster family ever wanted me. Even Dr. Laurel threw me away when I became inconvenient.
There’s no way this goddess could actually want the dirty little boy whose mom couldn’t even remember to feed him.
But she clutches my face and forces me to look her in the eyes.
“You woke me up. I get to live my life starting now. And I choose you.” She shivers, and I stop fighting my protective impulses and wrap her up in my arms. Or maybe I need it as much as she does. I need to hold her and feel that she’s real. I still can’t believe that happiness like this could actually be in reach for someone like me.
“Stay with me, Logan,” she whispers and I hold her tighter. “I don’t know who I am, or what I’m going to do, or where I’m going, but I want you. Not because of the patents. Not because of our past. Because of who you are …and who we could be.”
Thirty-Seven
Present Day
Daphne
The creaking floor wakes me. I blink in the honeyed morning light.
I haven’t slept this well since…since the last time Logan held me until I fell asleep. The bed is warm but he’s not beside me.
The lights are on. Huh. I squint and look around. My bedroom’s wallpaper is still faded, but the floor is swept clean...and everything smells like lemon cleanser. I sit up and that’s when I notice that I’m not lying on a pile of curtains anymore, but a legit mattress hovering off the ground on some sort of frame. And I’m super warm because I’m wrapped in a brand new looking sleeping bag.
“I thought you’d wake when I moved you to the camp bed, but you must have been tired,” Logan says from the door. I grin at the deep sound of his voice and look his way.
And damn, he’s fine. He’s dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt instead of the suit from last night. He’s holding a bunch of roses. And when I catch his gaze, well, let me tell you, I feel it all the way down to my lady bits.
“Are those for me?” I ask, pulling the sleeping bag up to my chin, feeling ridiculously shy and terribly happy all at the same time.
“Always.” He sits carefully on the edge of the bed and hands them to me. I immediately bury my face in the flowers.
“A bit early for these to bloom.”
“I had them delivered from my greenhouse. Along with…” he leans down and reaches into a giant hamper of food beside the bed. I gape at the full picnic spread laid out on a big plaid blanket. There’s even a mini propane stove with a shiny stovetop espresso maker.