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“You can’t force it.”

She lifted her chin in pride. “I won’t stop trying. Challenging myself is how I’m going to move forward.”

He wanted to tell her to slow down. She shouldn’t rush things, but that wasn’t his place. This was her life. Who was he to tell her how to process and move past being raped by multiple men?

He’d never know what that was like. All he could do was support her and follow her lead.

Gingerly, he rested his palm over hers. Holding his breath, he hoped she would tolerate his touch. Maybe not entirely, but possibly, she could withstand him longer or better than others.

She didn’t flinch.

There was no recoiling.

Sitting at a stoplight, the two of them practically held hands. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. If anything, he wished it to last a lifetime. The idea that she trusted him to do this meant the world to him.

Of all the people in the world, a criminal who had lied, cheated, and stolen, that was who Carrie allowed to put his hands on her. He’d killed without a second thought. She knew that about him. She’d seen it.

Yet she still risked his touch.

Emotions he couldn’t name and wasn’t ready to acknowledge lodged in his throat. So, he swallowed them down and glanced in her direction. In the red glow of the stoplight, she was a sight to behold—a woman of impeccable strength and courage. And beautiful to boot.

“I believe in you,” he murmured as the traffic signal switched to green.

Ripping his focus away from her and returning it to the road, he continued on his way to her apartment without moving his hand.

11

Carrie

Lying in bed, Carrie stared at her ceiling, unable to sleep. Kid had returned from getting his bike a while ago. He’d taken an Uber back to the Knucklehead. Anxiously, she had waited for the loud rumble outside. Something about his presence calmed her.

Barely half an hour after he left, she’d heard it and could breathe normally again. Now, the two of them existed quietly and separately in her apartment. As they had done for the last eight months. Despite her momentary freakout, the night had gone a thousand times better than she’d ever expected. Sure, she succumbed to panic, but she wasn’t perfect.

The fact that she hadn’t crumbled into a ball of sobbing tears and was able to tolerate—no. Not just tolerate. She enjoyed the feel of Kid’s hand on hers, and that astounded her. His touch didn’t make her skin crawl. She didn’t want to vomit. Her mind didn’t flash back to that night.

Carrie was able to stay in the moment.

That realization invigorated her. She was capable of more than she had thought. One last boundary stood in her way. She could do this.

With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and threw her covers off as she exhaled. She got out of bed and gripped the hem of her oversized T-shirt. Instead of folding it neatly, she tossed it to the side and stepped out of her boxer shorts.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirror on her bedroom door. Cautiously, she approached it, wearing only her bright-pink cotton panties.

Her heart hammered, but she purposely kept her breathing normal. This was the right thing to do. This was another test she could pass with flying colors. There was no safer man in all this world than Kid. She could trust him.

Trembling, she reached for the doorknob and twisted it. One naked step for Carrie today was a giant leap for Carrie of three months ago. She’d come so far. There was no reason to look back. Forward was the only way.

Kid

The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but Kid had endured worse. The three years he and Kevlar spent on the road before they found the Royal Bastards had meant resting in some questionable places. Compared to those, Carrie’s couch was a fucking dream.

As he flipped through the icons on the streaming service, he considered what he would watch to put him to sleep. Would it be stand-up comedy? A competition show? Maybe that glassblowing one.

The creak of Carrie’s bedroom door drew his attention, and he glanced in the direction of the tiny hallway opposite him, past the kitchen. It led to her bedroom, the utility room, and the bathroom. In the low light of the television, he watched her approach.

Her arms were wrapped around her, as though hugging herself. Was the apartment colder than normal? He didn’t think so. Hell, he’d actually taken his T-shirt off when he got home because he was warm.

Kid’s hackles rose, and he lifted himself off the couch slowly. Did she have flashbacks? A nightmare? They’d been home an hour. Normally, she didn’t fall asleep that fast, but she did have some pills that helped.