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—Banks—
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The instant I found Simone watching me pacing the deck, my blood froze.
Each second of uncertainty tugged the invisible belt tighter around my lungs. I hadn’t dared to breathe, let alone speak.
All it took was a simple lift of her arms to propel me across the outdoor living space and lift her into my arms mid-stride. Her chest hit mine with an audible whoosh, and I clutched her tight, so fucking thankful to have her in my embrace of her own accord.
Beautiful and broken, she sobbed against my collarbone, making me squeeze my eyes closed and hug her impossibly tighter. The harrowing sound of her wailing mere minutes ago still sent goosebumps rippling down my spine, and it had taken every morsel of self-control to not run inside and console her. She needed to work through the process by herself, then seek me for comfort or answers. Mercifully, comfort was the first she sought.
“Thank you,” she murmured against my shirt. “Thank you so much.”
Shit, my throat burned. “Regardless of what happens between us, that CD is yours to keep,” I replied hoarsely.
“Thank you,” Simone whispered again.
I swayed us from side to side. “I’m an open book, babe. Anything you want to know, you just gotta ask. I’m here for you and always will be.”
Her shuddering inhale gave way to a wash of relaxation that turned her body languid in my arms. I planted a kiss deep among her disheveled ash-blonde hair, then made my way inside to the couch. I sat with Simone still glued to my torso and reclined back.
We stayed there, quiet, still, merely breathing, until she broke the spell by lifting her head.
“Can you lie down?”
I cracked an eyelid open and viewed her through the narrow slit. “Here?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Of course.”
Easily shuffling while she remained in my lap, I set my hands on her hips once I was reclined and managed a little smirk. “Good?”
“Don’t get cocky, this is not what you think,” she snapped, then shifted down my body.
My bent knees opened for her, creating the perfect spot for her to tuck into.
“Can you take off your shirt?” she added, looking appropriately nervous.
“Sure.” I moved without hesitation, grabbing the back of my t-shirt collar and bucking up to whip it over my head. I let it fall from my fingertips onto the floor. “Better?”
She nodded and reached out one hand. I flinched when it touched down on my lower abdomen, then tensed as she smoothed her way past my belly button and over each ridge of taut muscle. The moment her fingers smoothed across the long line of my surgery scar, I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Babe.”
Her eyes met mine. “I want to listen.”
Despite my entire body primed and thrumming, I exhaled the breath I held. The tension sighed from my lungs, and I closed my eyes to focus on the tentative stroke of her fingers across the raised line.
The sensation of touch came and went depending on where she touched then my eyes flared open when both her hands pressed against my ribcage. Simone held my gaze as she lowered her chest to my belly.
Understanding had my arms enveloping her in a protective hug. One remained draped around her shoulders while my other came to rest over her ear when she laid her head on my chest.
I was under no illusion of how fast my pulse raced. It ran rampant, out of control like a wild mustang. Elevated and pushing my blood through my ears to a rhythmic whooshing cadence.
“It’s fast,” Simone breathed out, almost to herself.
“You make it that way, new girl.”
She shifted a little, then settled further, allowing her hands to cup either side of my torso.
“So strong,” she whispered.
“Just like you,” I murmured, smoothing a wayward strand of hair back from her temple. “I love you, Simone.”
Her head lifted, and she rested her chin on my sternum. She met my gaze and whispered, “You make me happy, Banks.”
A smile I couldn’t control spread across my mouth. “That’s really good to hear, babe.”
The barest hint of pink tinted her salt-stained cheeks. “I feel as if I’m allowed to be happy now.” Her expression scrunched. “It’s hard to explain... I lost faith in happiness when I lost Reagan, then believed I didn’t deserve to find it again. Not after fighting through the courts twice, then losing to his parents. I truly believed that I had nothing else to give, no care, no commitment, and definitely no love.”
Her fingertips grazed over my scar again in slow, measured strokes. “You changed that, Banks. You made me believe in myself and showed me that someone could love me for who I was. The broken, the ugly... It didn’t drive you away like it should have. You cared. Unconditionally. Like, truly cared. You fought for me,” she whispered and dipped her eyes.
Watching her blink hard and pull herself together had me melting. “It was worth it,” I whispered thickly. “You are still worth fighting for.”
Much to my astonishment, she pressed a kiss to my scar, then smiled up at me with red-rimmed, watery eyes. “And falling for you is something I’d never change.”
While silently thanking my lucky stars, my hands splayed wide on her ribcage, and I coaxed her up my body until our lips tenderly connected. I hummed and snaked my arms further around her, anchoring her firmly as we kissed. I let her take the lead. Allowing her to take as much as she needed and give as much as she was willing. I was here for it. For her. All in, no questions asked... Apart from one that weighed on me greatly.
“Simone?” I started, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yeah?” she asked suspiciously.
I cleared my throat and tried to form my question in the most tactful way. I failed, so just came straight out with it. “Have you had counseling after Reagan’s death?”
She nibbled at her lower lip and shook her head. “No. I couldn’t afford it. Especially since his parents walked away with his money. My parents aren’t in a position to help me out either, so I never asked them.” She gave a little shrug. “I’ve just, uh... kind of tried to deal with everything myself.”
My heart broke for her. “Oh, babe. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Mm,” she hummed. “I haven’t done a great job though, right? I’d never cut myself before losing Reagan. Obviously, it’s not the best way to deal with things, and I know it’s not healthy, but I can’t help it,” she whispered.
I swallowed down the wedge in my throat and cursed. “Let me help you. I know a guy who’s really great. He’s who we advise families to contact after losing loved ones to the elements. Mom is also seeing him after losing Hilary. He’s someone you can trust.”
Simone’s lips briefly mashed together as she focused on her finger running down my scar again. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t have that kind of money—”
I snagged her hand and brought her fingers to my lips. “It’s already covered, if you want to do it.”
Comprehension entered her eyes. “No, Banks. I couldn’t let you—”
“You can,” I gently cut in. “You don’t need to worry about your financial situation now, sweetheart.”
“But it hasn’t changed.”
I re-kissed her knuckles and smiled against them. I loved that she didn’t have dollar signs in her eyes when she looked at me. While I came from old money, I sure as fuck didn’t flash it around.
“It hasn’t, but it also has. I know you’re fiercely independent, but in this instance, let me take care of you. Please.”
She studied me for the longest time, sad blue eyes flicking between mine, searching, delving, contemplating, before nodding once. “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”
Her openness to my help made me happy. “Just say the word and I’ll get you Peter’s details.”
“Just like the plane. And the physiotherapist.”
I smiled. “Yeah, just like those. And on that note, you’re overdue a physio session.”
She grimaced. “Is Caro mad at me?”
“Not at all.”
“That’s good...” An awkward moment pulsed before Simone sat and tugged up her blouse sleeve. Her next question had me clicking in to EMT mode.
“Do these look infected to you?”
