"And she told me I need to go with you." Laney's voice is quiet. "That I'm about to fall apart and I shouldn't do it here."
"She's right."
"I know." She meets my eyes. "I don't want to break down in front of her. She's been through enough. She doesn't need to see me lose it too."
"Then let's go." I take her hand. "You can break down at my place. Just you and me."
We say our goodbyes with promises that Laney will visit tomorrow, and head to the car. The drive back into the city is quiet. Laney stares out the window, her hand gripping mine like I'm the only thing keeping her tethered to the planet.
I can feel her unraveling. See it in the way her breathing gets shorter, the way her fingers tremble against mine.
She's been holding everything together with a strength that grown men would envy. But now that her sister is safe, now that the immediate crisis is over, all that fear and stress and terror has nowhere to go.
"Breathe," I tell her when I notice her starting to hyperventilate.
"I am breathing."
"No, you're panicking." I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "In through your nose. Out through your mouth. With me."
I demonstrate, and she follows. In. Out. In. Out.
Slowly, her breathing steadies.
"Better?" I ask.
"Better." She squeezes my hand. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me for taking care of you." I pull into the hotel’'s private garage. "That's just what I do now."
The elevator ride up to the penthouse is charged with a different kind of tension. Every time I glance at her, she's already looking at me. Her pupils are dilated, her breathing still a little too fast, but it's not panic anymore.
It's need.
When the doors open directly into my apartment, she steps out and stops, taking in the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Strip, the modern furniture, the carefully curated emptiness I've always preferred.
"This is beautiful," she says.
"Do you like it?"
"It's very you." She moves toward the windows. "You can see everything from up here."
"That's the point." I come up behind her, close enough that she can feel my heat. "I like to know what's happening in my city."
"Your city," she repeats, staring out at the lights. Then she turns to face me. We're so close I can see the gold flecks in her whiskey-colored eyes. "What does that make me? I'm in your city. In your apartment. Did you mean it when you said I’m yours too?"
My jaw clenches. "Do you want to be?"
"I don't know." Her hand comes up to touch my face, trembling slightly against my jaw. "I know I should be scared of you. I know this is happening too fast. I know there are a hundred reasons why this is a bad idea."
"But?"
"But I can't stop thinking about you." The words tumble out of her now, raw and honest. "About the way you looked at me in the car. About how safe I felt even when everything was falling apart. About how much I want..." She trails off.
"Want what?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
"This." She closes the distance and kisses me.
It’s deep, dark and desperate. She kisses me like she's drowning and I'm the thing she wants to grab onto. Like she needs this to prove she's still alive. Still here. Still capable of feeling something other than fear.
