He freezes, hands an inch from my body. They hover there for a second before they drop to his sides.
“Please don’t touch me,” I say, my words barely audible to my own ears.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay, baby. I’m not going to touch you. In fact, I’m…going to go over here.” He retreats, putting several feet between us and I hate that the distance loosens my lungs, makes it easy to follow his next words, his gentle order. “Just breathe, yeah?”
“Y-yeah,” I manage to push out, but my eyes are filling with tears, my cheeks are burning with embarrassment.
With shame.
Why am I still like this?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper when the silence has settled between us for so long I can’t stand it.
“What the fuck could you possibly be sorry for?”
“I—” My throat closes up and I sink down to the floor, curling my legs in, resting my forehead on my knees as I admit the miserable truth, “I hate that I’m still like this.”
“Human?” he asks softly.
That does something to my heart, something I can’t think about right now. “Broken,” I whisper.
There’s another pause, longer. Heavier.
“Baby,” he murmurs.
And even though shame wants me to keep my head down, I find that I can’t.
I lean back against the cabinets, every muscle in my body so tight, I know it’ll only take the slightest push to send me over the edge.
To shatter.
“I’m broken,” I whisper. “I…I don’t know how to do this, haven’t done this since—” The memories flash through my brain like a slideshow of terror, of torment.
Pain and fear.
Struggling to stay conscious afterward.
Damon’s face.
The police who responded. The hospital staff.
The charges…being dropped.
But not those against Damon.
Oh no, the district attorney made sure my brother’s vigilante justice was prosecuted.
“Kylie,” Colt murmurs. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”
I hadn’t even realized my lungs are working desperately, taking in short, staccato breaths, that my head is spinning.
I suck in a breath, hold it until my pulse begins to steady then force myself to slowly release it.
“Want me to go?” he says once I’ve done that a few times.
“No,” I whisper.
Because it’s the truth.
