Page 87 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
Sloane laughed, but he knew her well enough to recognize the strain in the sound. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping you on your toes.”
She did that. In spades. Which was probably one of the reasons that this woman affected him so deeply, when so many others had tried and failed. Sloane didn’t have to try. From the day he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been a goner. He just hadn’t known it at the time, and had fought it every day since.
But the more he learned about Sloane Carlisle, from her strength and resolve, to her determination and loyalty, the more she had an impact on him. He wanted her in his life and was damn glad he’d realized it at last. Walking to the bed, he eased himself beside her, placing the flowers on a bedside tray.
“You didn’t need to bring flowers.” But she smiled gratefully.
He shrugged. “I had nothing else to do while waiting for permission to see you.”
Sloane burst out laughing. “You’re such a charmer.”
“I do try.” He grinned, grateful to see her back to her normal, teasing self. And as long as he didn’t focus on the bandage, he could almost convince himself she hadn’t come close to dying.
He sucked in a shallow breath. “Much pain?”
“No. The morphine pretty much covers that.” She gestured to the IV attached to her arm.
He winced, shaking his head. “I wish it were me lying there.”
“I’m really okay,” she assured him.
He curled his hands into tight fists. “But I’m not. I should have been with you.”
“And then Samson wouldn’t have been. I was really connecting with him, Chase.” She placed her good hand over her heart. “I mean, I was getting to understand him better. That wouldn’t have happened if we’d had an audience.”
He gritted his teeth, accepting her answer. But he still blamed himself for letting her go off alone. “I promised you’d be safe.”
“Promised who? Madeline?” she asked.
And wasn’t it just like Sloane to return to the heart of the matter, Chase thought. “No, sweetheart. I promised myself.” Reaching out, he brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, taking advantage and letting his fingertips trail down and stroke her soft cheek. “I failed you.”
“And that’s unacceptable for Chase Chandler, white knight?” Her voice held a tinge of resentment as she nailed his biggest flaw.
“Is there something wrong with that?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly. “Of course not. How can I find fault with the traits that make you an exceptional man?”
“I wouldn’t canonize me just yet,” he said wryly. “Especially since nothing changes the fact that I want you so bad, I ache. I want to bury myself inside you and prove to us both you’re alive.” He didn’t seek to shock her as much as to state the bald truth.
She laughed softly. “No, I wouldn’t nominate you for sainthood either.” She placed a warm hand over his. “And I want you too. Very much. Probably too much, considering. And I always will. That’s the problem.”
Relief hit him with intense force. He obviously hadn’t driven her away, no matter how hard he’d foolishly tried. “I don’t see any problems.”
She squeezed his hand tighter. “I’ve done the short term thing. I’ve lived in the moment, telling myself I’d take what I could get with you and then deal with the letdown later, once I was home. But I just got shot.” She shook her head, then had to release his hand to pull her hair off her face.
He missed her warmth and hoped it wasn’t a prelude of a bigger withdrawal to come.
“I learned life’s too short to settle for less than everything,” she told him, meeting his gaze.
“Then I have to repeat myself. I don’t see a problem. Because I’ve come to the same conclusion myself.” His heart beat out a rhythm he’d never felt before—fear, excitement, and adrenaline combining to put him on edge. “I told you once before, I love you, Sloane. I meant it then, but I’m ready to act on it now. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said, attempting to breathe and yet holding his breath as he waited for her to reply.
Her eyelashes fluttered closed. A lone tear dripped down one cheek. He caught it with his thumb, tasting the salty moisture and drawing strength from making her a part of him in such a tiny but intimate way.
“You’re ready to spend your life with me. Now, after almost losing me.” She exhaled a long sigh. “Of course you are,” she said, no joy in her voice. No excitement.
“Sloane?” he asked, fear filling him where once completeness and satisfaction had been. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” Because whatever it was, he was going to have to talk her out of those negative thoughts.
