Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

I nod. “I’ll be fine.”

“Said every man ever.” Ma rolls her eyes. “Each one of you acts all big and tough, but you’re all giant cinnamon rolls inside.”

“Cinnamon rolls?” Pop asks, jerking his head back. “How the hell are we like cinnamon rolls?”

“You’re all mushy and lovable on the inside,” she explains.

“There’re worse things to be called.” Uncle Thomas shrugs.

“Like asshole,” Uncle James says.

“I get that one a lot at home.” Uncle Thomas laughs.

“Me too,” Uncle James says.

“What’s everyone talking about over here?” Aunt Fran asks, walking up to us and inserting her body in the middle of the group.

“The guys being asshole cinnamon rolls.”

Fran’s nod is immediate. “Perfect description.”

“Is it going okay over there?” I ask Aunt Fran, glancing toward Opal.

My girl’s looking at the cop, talking to him and not paying any attention to any of us. He’s writing down everything she’s saying, trying to keep up with her.

“Yep. She’s a tough cookie. She’s really been through some shit in life. It’s about time she catches a damn break.”

“I plan to make it happen,” I promise.





24





OPAL





I place my hands on the countertop near the sink and lean forward, getting a closer look at my face. “What in the…” I turn my neck to the right and then to the left. “I look awful.”

Stone walks in behind me and catches my eyes in the reflection in the mirror. “You look great.” Somehow, he says those words with a straight face.

“Do you need glasses?”

He smiles as he wraps his arms around my sides, and he flattens his hands on my stomach. “No, baby. You’re alive and breathing. Those eyes and that nose will heal. You’re still beautiful to me.”

I lean a little closer, which only makes everything worse. “People can’t see me like this.”

“If people stare, tell them they should see the other guy.”

I roll my eyes. “That may work for you, but it’s not as cute coming from me.”

“Nah, it’s badass.” He bends his neck, placing his mouth on my neck.

I close my eyes, relishing the softness of his lips as I let my body lean against him. “How long is this going to take to heal?”

“A week or so,” he murmurs against my skin.

“Damn,” I mutter.

“The girls are going to stop by and bring makeup to cover it all… Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

I’d never say no. I could have an eyeball hanging out of my head, and I’d say yes. I love being around them, along with the rest of the family.

He peppers my neck with light kisses, and I lose focus on my bruises and can see only him.

“You’re too good to me,” I tell him, placing my hands on his as they rest on my stomach.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says, pulling his mouth away from my neck.

I instantly miss the heat of his body as he releases me. “What is it?”

He takes my hand and moves toward the door. “You have to see it. I worked on it while you were napping.”

I’ve been out of the hospital for less than twelve hours. I can’t imagine what it could be.

I follow Stone down the hallway to his spare bedroom.

He grabs the door handle and pauses. “Close your eyes first.”

I do as I’m told, squeezing my eyes shut. I trust him completely. It may be the first time in almost a decade I don’t doubt my safety in the presence of another person.

It’s freeing.

The door creaks, and Stone leads me into the room.

My belly flips a little because I’m not used to surprises, especially not nice ones.

“Can I open my eyes now?” I ask after I stop shuffling my feet against the hardwood floor as he stops me somewhere in the room.

He sets his hands on my upper arms, giving me a small squeeze. “Open them,” he whispers.

I open my eyes, soaking in what’s changed. There’s no longer a bed or the furniture that was in here before. Instead, I see a desk, a fancy chair, and a lamp.

“It’s an office for you.”

“For me?” I ask, shocked.

“You need your own space to do work or whatever. Do you like it?”

I turn around, and his thick arms engulf me. I tip my head back, peering up at him. “I love it. You’re too good to me.”

He touches his forehead to mine, gazing into my eyes. “You deserve it and more. I would’ve decorated it, but I want you to make it your own.”

“Are you sure?”

He smiles, and my entire body warms. “One hundred percent.”

“Can I paint the walls black?”

“Yes. If that’s what you want.”

“I want it. I want it badly.” I give him a smile back. “I’m totally into moody paint.”

“We will get your stuff in a few days and move it here.”

“Okay,” I breathe, loving the idea of moving in with him. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

He pulls his head back and furrows his eyebrows. “I’m fine with the black walls. Paint them hot pink if you want. It’s your room to do with what you wish.”