As he went quiet again, she stayed right where she was.

“My sister…” More with the throat clearing. And when he finally did speak again, his naturally gravelly voice was nothing but rocks. “My sister was a good person. There were a lot of us in the family, and not everyone was nice to me. She was, though.”

Mentally, Marissa recalled what she knew about the girl: the disappearance, the rape, the murder, the body being found a week later. Butch had been the last one to see her.

“But there was another side to her,” he said. “She hung out with a lot of … goddamn, this is hard to say … but she went out with a lot of boys, you know what I mean?”

His face was pale now, the lips compressed, those hazel eyes heavy lidded as if he were replaying bad memories.

But then he just stopped. And when he didn’t say anything further, she had to fill in the blanks.

“You think she was murdered,” Marissa whispered, “because she wasn’t being a good girl. You think maybe if she hadn’t been having sex with those boys, she wouldn’t have gotten into that car and they wouldn’t have done what they did to her and she wouldn’t have died.”

Butch closed his eyes. Nodded his head once.

“And you hate yourself for thinking that because it puts the blame on her—and that’s a betrayal. That’s blaming the victim—and you would never, ever do that to anyone, especially not your own sister.”

Now he nodded over and over again. Then wiped away a tear.

“Can I come hug you now?” she asked in a cracked voice. “Please.”

When all he did was nod, she raced to him and put her arms around him, drawing him to her until she ended up sitting on the desk and he was collapsed into her lap.

Bending down over him, smelling his hair and his aftershave, stroking those huge shoulders, she felt more in love with him than ever before—in fact, what was in her heart at the moment was so tremendous, she didn’t know how her body held it all in.

“It wasn’t her fault,” he said roughly. “And I know that. The fact that I even had that thought once—it’s so fucking ugly. It’s as bad as me not saving her—I might as well have put her in the car myself. Jesus, to believe her actions were the problem?” Butch sat up. “My head gets all fucked-up over it—if I had a daughter, and God forbid”—he made a quick sign of the cross over his heart—“something happened to her, and anyone tried to blame her short skirt, or the fact that she had one drink—or seventy-five, or consented to have sex and then changed her mind in the middle? Do you have any idea what I’d do to that misogynistic asshole?”

“You’d kill him, right after you murdered the perpetrator.”

“Damn fucking straight. Fuck, yeah.” He made a circular motion next to his head. “But then that old tape plays, and every once in a while, it spits out that horrible fucking thought—and I feel so guilty for having it that I want to vomit. In fact, right now I’m eyeing the wastepaper basket and wondering if I can make it there in time.”

As his eyes locked off to the side, she wished Mary were in the room with her. Guess this was why people went to therapists—when the dam broke like this, it was probably best to have a trained professional around.

“And by the way,” he tacked on, “I’m proud of my religion. The church isn’t perfect, but neither am I—and it’s brought a lot of good into my life. Without my faith, even with you, I’d be a shell of what I could be.”

“I understand completely, and my belief system isn’t any different to me.”

After a period of quiet, Marissa took both of his hands. “If I go to the sex club tomorrow night, are you going to think less of me?”

“God, no.”

She nodded. “And assuming you someday get comfortable with it, if I suck you off, are you going to look down on me?”

He laughed in a short burst. “I’d probably worship you even more.”

“Will you still think I’m a good girl?”

“You know … actually, yes.” He sounded relieved. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve never thought about it before … but I’ll absolutely still love you.”

“So you’re able to get past the old thinking in regard to me, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Like, you have a thought, you considered it, and you put it aside, right?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“So … why can’t you do the same with your sister. Have the old thought. Consider it against everything you know about her and the way she was, and layer onto it your core belief that the blame never goes on the victim no matter what she’s wearing or anything like that … and I’m willing to bet you’ll reject the idea that your sister contributed in any way to what was a horrific, inexcusable crime against an otherwise innocent girl. I’ll bet that you resolve that on your own, and probably never dwell on that part of the pain again.”

He blinked once. Twice.

“Forget the blow job,” he said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Butch stared up at her with such complete devotion, it was as if she had put the world at his feet. “I think I just fell even more in love with you. And I didn’t think … I couldn’t fathom how that would even be possible.”

Sure enough, his bonding scent became a roar in the room, and his hazel eyes got so full of emotion and reverence that she felt a little giddy.

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him. “This is so much better than before.”

“Before what?”

“If I’m going to be on a pedestal”—she pressed her mouth to his again—“I want to be there as your perfect partner, not because you think I’m the perfect good girl.”

Her hellren started to smile. “You got it. And you got me.”

As he kissed her back, she thought about what happily-ever-afters were about, and decided that true love didn’t mean effortless, and ever-after wasn’t about cruise control. You started with the attraction, and then you opened your heart and your soul—but all that, which was no small thing, just got you to first base.

There were many, many other trips to take to deeper levels of greater acceptance and understanding.

That was where you found the happy. And the ever-after was the work you were always willing to put in to stay close, to learn, and to grow as people together.

“I love you,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her. “God, I love you.”

Leaning away a little, she smiled and traced her fingertips over his face. She wanted to say those sacred words back to him, but somehow they didn’t go far enough.

So she said the one thing that would mean even more to him. “Oh, honey … go, Sox.”

Throwing his head back, Butch laughed so hard the sound rattled the glass door of the office. And as she smiled back at him, she thought, Yup, I love you could be said in many different combinations, couldn’t it.

Chapter Thirty-six

It was amazing how a television could turn anything into a proper lounge.

Not that Craeg was watching The Big Bang Theory reruns that were on it. Still, he was glad a doggen had come in and set the thing up in the corner because without the pleasant chatter in the background? Sitting in the same room with both Axe and Paradise would have done his nut in completely.

He needed something, anything to keep his mind off of her.

Naturally, as he stared at the fan of cards in his hand, he had no idea what he was looking at. Across the table, however, Axe hadn’t had that problem—which was why, after how many rounds of gin rummy, he owed the bastard fifty bucks.

“Well, I guess I’ll head to bed,” Paradise said from over on the couch.

Right. It was amazing how, when a certain female spoke a certain combination of words, it was a guaranteed fucking hard-on.

So yes, he was subtly rearranging himself under the table—before the circulation into his femoral artery was cut off completely by his erection.