He wanted to shake her.
From this close, he could smell the sweet perfume of her hair. Wanted to bury his nose in her neck. Wanted closer.
She was driving him crazy.
"Molly." He’d meant her name to sound firm, but somehow his voice emerged rough with emotion.
And a silver tear slipped down her cheek.
He was helpless against her tears.
Almost in slow motion, he gathered her in close. She had plenty of time to see him coming, plenty of time to push him away.
But she didn't.
As his arms came around her, hers slipped inside his coat, around his back.
She buried her face in his chest and held on for dear life.
Until now, he hadn't embraced her. Hadn't dared.
Partly because of what she'd told him. He hadn’t wanted to scare her.
But mostly because of this. The waves of emotion crashing through him broke his willpower. He'd promised himself he wouldn’t let her get close.
And now look at him.
Her hat had fallen away and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in.
She was trembling. Crying, he realized as he moved back enough to cup one hand against her jaw.
She was fighting it, holding back her tears with sheer force of will. Her eyes were luminous with moisture, her cheeks pink.
"I think—I'm g-going crazy," she whispered.
She closed her eyes, but not before two more tears fell.
He wrapped her up in his arms, let her have the privacy of his shirt for her tears, resting his chin against the crown of her hair.
He was in over his head, choked up with the desire to help her, to find words that would comfort her. He didn't know what they were.
He'd never felt so unprepared to face something in his life.
He needed help.
It might kill him to ask for it.
He needed Iris.
