I stay where I am for a couple seconds, fidgeting some more with the loose, woolly thread on my sweater.
Eyes wet and chest aching, it’s as if I’m incapable of doing anything but existing. Speaking, thinking, even moving feels like too much.
I’m way too torn between grief and relief.
Silver takes one look at me and reads me perfectly. His blue eyes flicker knowingly as if he gets it. He knows how difficult this is for me.
“Come here, baby.”
He sounds so rough and tired himself. So exhausted from what he’s gone through today.
But also warm—unmistakably warm and loving in a way reserved only for me.
I pad over slowly, though it’s about as fast as I can go right now. I’m drinking him in as I do, realizing even in a hospital bed and gown, Silver Kingman is as formidable and powerful as ever.
He’s still the same man who’s been leading the Steel Kings, broad-chested and shouldered with a shock of blue eyes and silver hair and a chiseled jawline unlike any other. He’s got plenty of tattoos inking his skin and lines of aging on his face that speak to his decades of experience.
That truly illustrate what a fine silver fox he is. How he’s the most comforting and safe person I’ve ever met.
I finally make it to him, and he pulls me up against his chest in a loving embrace, kissing my brow and running his fingers over my locs like he’s verifying the moment is real.
“You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he confesses, taking a deep inhale of me. “The first thing I asked about when I came from surgery.”
I want to tell him I feel the same about him—that he was on my mind nonstop from the moment he walked out of the Steel Saloon earlier, but my throat is so raw and sore that speaking’s still near impossible.
“How is he, baby?” he asks. “Did he…?”
As I start to pull away, Silver cups my cheek, holding me close. His thumb brushes against my skin, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.
I slowly shake my head from side to side. It’s all I can bring myself to do.
He gets it anyway, understanding passing over his features. He pulls me into a tighter hug, squeezing me in comfort before we pull back a little again.
“You should know,” he says, “that Big Ed stood up to Tom in the end. He was shot challenging him. If Tom hadn’t been such a fucking coward, he would’ve faced Eddie like a man instead of doing what he did.”
I swallow hard, fresh tears watering my eyes.
“But Tom’s gone now,” Silver continues, his voice hardening. “I made sure of it.”
I nod, blinking rapidly. The tears spill over anyway, leaking down my cheeks.
There’s so much swirling inside me—grief for Uncle Eddie, relief that Silver survived, confusion about how to feel about Moses and what this means for our family and household.
It’s all tangled together, a complicated knot of emotion I don’t know how to unravel.
Silver reaches up and wipes my tears away with gentle fingers. “I know it’s difficult right now. I know things feel so messed up. But, baby, we’ll heal together. We’ll find a way, alright?”
I stare at him through the blur of my tears, a current of warmth filling me up.
I trust him.
More than I’ve ever trusted anybody in my life. More than with just with my safety or my secrets.
I trust Silver with my heart. All the broken, jagged pieces of me I’m still trying to put back together.
That he clearly gets and will help me do so; he’ll be by my side as we make it through this and do as he says.
Heal together.
