“Sasha.”
Lifting my chin, I looked over at him. Like every time in the last week, since the night in the cellar, his gaze took stock of the injuries. I’d healed a lot, but the corner of my lip was still sore and the side of my jaw was mottled in a lovely shade of blue and fading purple. There were bruises elsewhere, like along my hip, that still ached, and I had at least one headache a day.
But I was alive, so I could deal with the bumps and the aches.
I could also handle the nightmares, and that meant I was also going to do my best to be open with Cole. He wasn’t having it any other way.
Lying down in the stack of pillows, I stared up at the ceiling. “I had a nightmare that he . . . he was in here while I was sleeping.”
Cole cursed.
“It’ll stop.” I looked over at him. “It will.”
His jaw was hard. “It took ten years for the nightmares to stop the first time.”
“But they did, because you . . . you are here.” That sounded cheesy, but it was true. “These will stop too.”
He nodded stiffly as he positioned himself against the headboard and stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “You’re right,” he murmured.
I stared at him, knowing what he was thinking. It was there, a shadow in his eyes for the last week. He was thinking what if he hadn’t gone to the mayor’s house. He was thinking what if while there, he hadn’t discovered the security camera the mayor had hidden in his office. He was thinking what if they hadn’t played back the video and seen Jason in the room with the mayor. Saw him forcing Mayor Hughes to write the suicide letter and everything else. He was thinking what if he hadn’t heard me shout his name from the cellar.
It was Cole who’d been calling my phone, trying to warn me as he, along with Tyron and the agents, had raced to the inn.
I tried not to think about what would’ve happened if Cole hadn’t showed when he did. Nothing good came from that. At all.
My gaze shifted to the ceiling and I let out a soft, slow breath. James had been finally woken up yesterday. The blow had cracked his skull and put him in a coma, but he’d survived the attack by some kind of miracle. It really had been touch-and-go, because he’d been in the cellar all day, but that old man was going to outlive a nuclear war.
I’d done a lot of soul searching this week, and I wasn’t the only one. Although Miranda had recovered physically, I knew the emotional and mental side of things would take a lot longer to get over. She’d been friends with him all these years, had become more and wanted more. Even though Miranda had never said it, I knew she had loved Jason—loved him as more than just a friend.
And I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, but I would be there for her, whenever she wanted to talk about it.
Jason had been smarter—much smarter—than his father. He’d fooled everyone around him. In the days after the confrontation with him, things were revealed about him.
Cole had discovered unsolved suspicious murders in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, but since Jason had changed the method of murder and appeared to pick vulnerable victims at random, it was hard to see a pattern.
Until the agents took a look at the basement here and the one in his home.
His cellar had been worse than the one below the inn, a true carnival of horrors. He’d collected trophies, and not just clothing like he’d kept here. Hair. Pieces of skin. Toes. God, the list went on and on. It would take months for the investigators to collect the DNA and ID the victims.
There was a part of me that almost couldn’t believe it. That teeny, tiny piece of me that couldn’t fathom that he could be two different people. The Jason we trusted. He had access to the inn whenever he wanted. I’d left him here multiple times alone, giving him ample opportunity to snatch a key and to make a copy. And then there was the Jason who was a complete monster.
I exhaled slowly.
“It’ll get better.” Cole leaned over and dragged the strands of hair back from my face. “I can promise you that.”
I smiled as my gaze traveled over his striking face. There was several days’ worth of scruff on his jaw. In all honesty, I would’ve been a complete mess if it hadn’t been for Cole. He’d been there through the worst of the pain, when walking from the bed to the bathroom caused my body to ache. He’d sat with me when I told Mom about Jason, and didn’t shy away when the inevitable burst of emotion followed. Cole was there the first time Miranda and I met after the night in the kitchen.
That . . . that had been the hardest.
“You still with me?” Cole’s hand lingered gently on my cheek, since it was still a bit swollen.
“Yeah,” I whispered, reaching up and placing the tips of my fingers on his arm. There had been a hundred different things running through my head when I’d been trapped in the kitchen and cellar with Jason. I’d made good on several things. I wasn’t a victim. I got out of there. Miranda would be okay. I hugged my mom again. There was one thing I hadn’t done.
I hadn’t told Cole that I loved him.
And I was scared out of my mind to do so even though he’d been there for me. There was a part of me, probably a stupid part of me, that still feared he wouldn’t want to be in this for the long haul, because things . . . things were going to be rough.
Nerves filled my belly, but I wasn’t going to chicken out. Life was too short. “I want to tell you something and I don’t want you to feel pressured to answer the same, okay? I just want to get—”
“I love you,” he said, eyes a warm blue.
I blinked. “What?”
One side of his lips kicked up. “I love you, Sasha.”
My lips parted.
He cocked his head to the side. “You were going to say it first, right? And you were worried that I would feel obligated and say it too, so now you know a hundred percent that it isn’t because I feel obligated.”
I stared at him a moment and then I sat up, ignoring the twinge of pain along my side. Cole moved with me. “You . . . you love me?”
His eyes searched mine. “I loved you ten years ago, Sasha. I loved you the entire time you were gone. And I loved you since the moment I walked into the dining room and saw you standing there.”
Oh my . . .
The half grin appeared. “Or maybe you were going to tell me you wanted Japanese takeout and this is about to get really, really awkward.”
“No.” A laugh bubbled up in me. “I was going to tell you that I love you.”
“Was?”
My lips curved up at the corners. “Am,” I corrected, scooting so that our faces were inches apart. “I love you, Cole. I’ve been in love with you since our first date.”
His grin spread as he leaned in and when he spoke, his lips brushed mine. “I’m so glad this didn’t get awkward.”
“Me too.” I paused. “But Japanese takeout does sound amazing.”