I keep my eyes squeezed shut until Holt lays me in our bed and covers me under the safety of the blanket. He tells me I need to eat, but I refuse. Not arguing, he climbs in after me, sidling up behind me.
He’s removed his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. What little skin exposed is warm as it wraps around me. His entire body molds to mine, his legs and back pressed tightly against me. I place my hand over his, weaving our fingers together.
Tilting my face into the pillow, I cry.
I cry for Holt. I cry for his mother. I cry for my parents. I cry for the baby growing inside me. I cry for myself.
Holt buries his nose in my hair and breathes me in. Deeply. The gesture creates a new wave of goosebumps. It’s been hours since I was sitting on the bench of the upper deck on Holt’s yacht, staring out at the water, when Rhys and his men suddenly showed up, pointing a gun directly at my face.
My tears haven’t stopped, remembering the terror that consumed me from that moment on. Rhys ignored my pleas to tell me who he was or why he was there, insisting he would explain everything once Holt showed up.
And he did. But Rhys never let up on his threat to kill me. Not until Holt vowed his secrecy.
“Talk to me, Selene.” His whispering voice forces my eyes open. “Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.”
I stare blankly at the slate-painted wall.
“I…” my voice breaks. “I don’t think I can.”
“I get it.” He pulls me closer, soothing his hand over my stomach. “I just need to know I haven’t completely lost you. With what happened tonight, with Rhys, I wouldn’t blame you…”
I abruptly shift, rolling over to face Holt. His face is broken and weary. His bright blue eyes are swollen from crying.
“You haven’t lost me, Holt.” I press my hand to his cheek. “What made you think that?”
“You haven’t talked since we left the yacht, and you’re never silent when it comes to me.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “You have a sharp tongue for me, Wallflower.”
I frown. “Holt…”
“I know.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “For everyone else, you’re silent. Not for me.” He moves his head just enough to lean against my touch as if he’s memorizing it before it disappears.
“Right.” I scoot closer to him, raising my leg to wrap aroundhis hip. “For everyone else, but never for you.” I dig my fingers into his hair, around to the base of his neck. My gaze drops to his lips. The same lips that have reassured me a million times he isn’t going to disappear. The same lips delivering a million promises of forever, both in words and kisses.
His nostrils flare as he exhales heavily before cracking his eyes back open.
We’ve traded places. For the first time, it isn’t me who’s worried the promise of forever will end and I’ll be the one watching as he walks away.
Holt’s worried this has pushed me away for good. My silence is scaring him.
“Look at me, Holt.”
He lifts his gaze, crippled with fear. His chest inflates but never settles.
“Tonight was terrifying. I don’t even know where to begin.” I blink rapidly, sorting through all the thoughts crowding my mind. “Whether it’s the thought of my parents and their death, or the way this has reminded you of your own mother’s death. Or the fact Rhys O’Connell, a high-ranking member of the Irish mafia, is your cousin and has been watching us for God knows how long.” I draw in a breath. “It’s a lot to process, and therapy has taught me to sort through my thoughts and feelings before reacting.”
“I’m so sorry, Selene. I still can’t get it out of my head, seeing you like that. And I can’t shake the feeling I had. You felt so far away, even though you were only a few feet from me. I was helpless.”
“I know.” I swallow the bile threatening to spill out of me. “I felt helpless, too.”
Holt wraps his arm over my side and presses his palm against the small of my back.
Having the tip of a gun pressed against the side of your head, knowing your life might be stripped from you by the simple pulling of a trigger changes you. My brain chemistry isn’t the same as it was a few hours ago. It changed the day I watched my father do the same with my mother before turning it on himself. Now, it’s changed again.
Death is an ugly, vile thing, taking a piece of you each time you’re forced to witness it.
Even the possibility of death is enough to steal a piece of you.
But what it’s never done is steal my love for Holt.
