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He carried her into her own home. Fin just wrapped her arms around his neck and clung. “I...is this ever going to end?”
“It will. Dom is good at what he does. Are you hungry?” Virat had perfect arms, strong enough to fight back any storm. Fin closed her eyes as he lowered her to the couch in the main living room. Her home wasn’t as big as Mel and Houghton’s, but it wasn’t a small home by anyone’s standards. Virat had made it seem less empty since he’d started being there with her.
Fin should probably tell him that. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you can’t stay forever.”
“Can’t I? I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”
“I just...want normal. Once all of this ends, then we can talk more?” She looked up at him, knowing that her confusion had to be written everywhere on her face.
She’d never had a relationship with a man feel like this. This deep.
This real.
Fin knew herself well. She hadn’t ever trusted herself enough to let a man who would make her vulnerable in.
But Virat...Virat would never knowingly hurt her.
She knew that to the bottom of her soul.
“You know we can.” He settled on the couch next to her. Fin wasn’t having any of that. Before he could protest—not that she thought he would—she slipped into his lap.
Then those strong arms tightened around her and he felt absolutely perfect holding her. Tears flooded her eyes. “I—”
“You were scared. I know. So was I. I can’t stand the thought of you hurting. And I never should have let you and Nikkie Jean cross the street alone—”
Fin laughed.
She couldn’t help it. “We’re adults. We should have been able to cross the street alone.”
“I suppose so. Although, it’s really hard not to see Nikkie Jean as a little sister. She reminds me of my sister Ananya. That same pestering spirit—and Ana is not much bigger.”
“It’s my fault what happened.”
“No. It’s his. The driver’s all the way. You didn’t ask for this. Didn’t encourage it. It’s not your fault.”
“She was hurt because of—”
“Because of him. If it was some guy after Nikkie Jean and you were hurt instead, would you blame her?”
Fin knew he was right. “It’s just too much like it was before...”
“When you were a teenager. I’ve heard the rumors.”
She’d never told anyone except the other women in her therapy group at W4HAV what had happened. She’d never trusted anyone enough to share.
But she did now. She told him everything, told him it had made her feel, how she had hidden herself away in her mausoleum of a house.
She’d never felt as exposed and raw as she did when she was finished.
Nor had she ever felt such a connection with any man in her life.
As they lay in her bed, Fin just prayed that connection would continue forever.