I stand up and pull the blanket around me. “If you think I’m going to sit here and play stupid while you take the rap, you are so wrong,” I warn.
He stands and pushes his chair under the table. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” he tells me.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “How do you think I could ever let you do that?”
“Because I said so.”
“I’m going to harass the reporters,” Dusty says, before standing and heading back outside.
“I don’t care what you say. I’m going to call Jim right now and tell him everything.” I drop the blanket and head toward the living room when he grabs me and pulls me back, wrapping his arms around me, my back to his front. He kisses the back of my head, then moves his mouth to my ear.
“Demi,” he breathes. “I need you to trust me. I need you to let me take this.”
I struggle in his hold, but it’s no use. He’s too strong. “The hell I will,” I growl as I continue to try and wiggle my way out which only makes his hold tighten.
“You will.”
“Why? Why would I sit back and watch you take the fall?” I cry.
“Because I love you goddammit!” he yells as we crumple to the floor. He pulls me down, so we’re laying on our sides as I sob. “I love you so fucking much. I WILL NOT let you go down for this.”
I cry harder.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay,” he whispers as he places sweet kisses on my shoulder. I struggle again and this time he lets me get up. I jump to a stand, he slowly moves up, so that’s he’s sitting, looking up at me.
“It’s not okay! How dare you tell me you love me and then expect me to watch you go to jail and leave me. Do you think I want to lose you? Do you want to leave me? Do you think I could ever sit here, free, while you rot in prison?” I don’t let him answer. I run upstairs and slam the bedroom door behind me, flinging myself on my bed. I cry for what seems like an endless amount of time before my hurt and grief pull me under into a deep sleep.
When I wake up again, it’s dark. The lamp from the street shines through the window illuminating the room faintly as I lay there, restless, my stomach grumbling from hunger, as I haven’t eaten all day. Silence rings through the house so loud it’s almost deafening. I wonder if Connor is in the house, somewhere, silently brooding, waiting for me to come back downstairs. Or if he’s in his apartment. I’m so angry with him. How could he even think I would let him own this thing we did alone? But as angry as I am, I’m filled with a feeling I haven’t felt in so long.
Love.
I love him.
I love him for how selfless he is. How willing he is to throw himself in the flames and burn alive to protect me. I’m so consumed with emotion, with need for him, I don’t wait another second. I head downstairs in search of him and find the house dark and empty. When I walk out on the back porch, I can see the lights are on in his apartment. Quietly, hoping to avoid being seen by any reporters as I’m still in the same white silk robe, I tiptoe up the stairs to his apartment. I don’t knock, but open the door quickly and walk in. Connor is sitting in his recliner, a beer in his hand, the radio faintly playing So Help Me Girl, by Joe Diffie in the background. His head whips around at the sound of me entering, and he moves to stand, but I hold my hand up, stopping him. He’s almost naked, only wearing a pair of white boxer briefs.
“I love you, too,” I blurt out and his eyes close as if he’s just experienced the most profound relief; as if he’s been in pain, but suddenly medicated. Walking around the couch I approach him and stand in front of him.
“We will figure this out together. One way or another, Connor. We’re a team now. I need you. I need you so much the thought of losing you now steals the breath right out of me.”