He drops his gaze to mine. His hands are still cupping my cheeks, and I try to slow my breathing. “The only way they’d let you come with me is if we were engaged, or married.”
Thomas hesitates for a long moment, studying my reaction before continuing. “The thought of anything happening to you makes me sick, Hannah. I need to knowyou’re safe. I promise I’m not trying to scare you, but the man who shot Henry was watching us tonight. He saw you, and knows you’re someone important to me.”
I don’t think about myself at this moment. “What about your family? Then they clearly know your family too,” I stammer.
“I know,” he soothes, rubbing his thumb across my cheek, swiping tears I haven’t realized have fallen. “Elena has assured me that my family is safe, but Hannah, I can’t go, knowing you’re here alone.”
I try to process the way tonight has undoubtedly changed my life. I could tell him no, that I’m not going to go along with it and stay home. I have to look after my grandma, I have a job, an apartment, a life.
Something is holding me back from telling him no, though.
“Okay.” My voice shakes as I speak.
“Hannah,” he breathes my name. He rests his forehead against mine, and his breathing shutters. His palms shake as they grasp my cheeks. It hits me then. He's as scared as I am. It feels like earlier when he was about to kiss me, only this time, the stakes are higher. His life's in danger. Heck, maybe mine is too.
My fingers twist in his shirt, his warm body heat radiates through the material to caress my skin. “Can I kiss you now?” Thomas asks again. This time, it’s more of a plea than a request.
I nod, even though I’m terrified.
I suck in a sharp breath when he tilts his head, and my eyes fall closed as I anticipate what will happen next.
My fingers thread in the cotton of his shirt, my heart pounding in my ears. Then, his lips caress mine. It’s a slow movement, but it sends goosebumps flaring acrossmy skin. I lean into the kiss a bit more. He’s still taking the lead, but I’m allowing him to.
Thomas’s lips are soft and gentle as he opens my mouth with his, and his tongue slides against my lower lip. I hold my breath, unsure of what I’m supposed to do. I mean, you see kisses all the time in movies, read them in books, but it’s not like there’s a manual on how to kiss someone properly. Right?
I try to keep my brain calm, to keep me in the moment, but I can feel the anxious thoughts creeping in at the edges.You’re not good enough. Why does he want me? He’s going to regret this.
The door flies open behind us, and Thomas pulls back, removing his lips from mine.
I just had my first kiss in a dingy room at the police station.
A dark-haired woman enters, followed by the chief. “We’ve received approval from the safe house that they’ll be ready for you. You’ll have two hours to pack your things and make any arrangements. Hannah, we’ve already alerted your boss to the situation, and made him aware that you will be out for an extended length of time.”
The reality of the situation slowly dawns on me. It’s one in the morning. If I have two hours to pack, I won’t get to say goodbye to my sister, Tiff, or my grandma. I won’t get to fully explain to them what’s happening. My breaths come in quick succession, my thoughts going hazy again.
Thomas has me pulled into his arms before I can fully process it. He speaks low so no one else can hear. “What do you need, freckles?”
“Ice,” I murmur. I need something to ground me right now, and while Thomas’s embrace is helping, it’s not enough right now. This is all happening so fast.
“Can I get a cup of ice?” Thomas asks, or rather, demands. The door opens and closes again, and I swear I’m getting emotional whiplash from the last few hours.
I went from having one of the best nights ever, to being sent into protective custody with the man who gave me my first kiss mere minutes ago. I feel lost, spiraling out of control.
Thomas cups my cheeks, and I can vaguely sense him telling me to breathe with him while we wait. I follow his instructions, and it helps, but it’s not quite enough.
“Here’s the ice,” someone says as the door opens and closes. One of Thomas’s hands leaves my face to grab the cup of ice, and he holds it between us. I take it from his hand and bring it to my lips, tipping it and letting one of the small cubes slide into my mouth.
I rest it on my tongue, letting the painful cold help ground me, and calm myself. I don’t know what it is about ice, but it helps me, more than any medication or other technique has.
After a few minutes of the ice melting in my mouth, I can breathe normally again, and my head feels semi-clear. There’s still intense anxiety surrounding the situation and what's to come, but for now, I feel better.
“Sorry,” I murmur, taking another ice cube into my mouth.
“Hey, don’t apologize,” Thomas says, swiping a tear from my cheek. “Are you ready to sit down? I think Elena has some more information for us.”
I don’t miss the way he cringes, as if he’s hoping talking about the inevitable won’t spur me into my third panic attack of the night.
We sit down in the uncomfortable metal chairs, and Elena holds out some paperwork for us. “We have an oldercouple that lives on a farm in southern Missouri that the FBI has on standby for situations like these. He’s a former agent, and knows how to keep you safe. We’ve contacted them, and they are available to take you in for the time being.”
