“You haveno idea how sorry I am, Slo,” Saylor apologizes in a pained tone from behind the couch, crouching down so we are at eye level.
I’m sitting in the guys’ living room, on Apron Guy’s lap, straddling him, and he’s holding me tightly, stroking my back.I finally stopped sobbing and opened my eyes to see Saylor standing there.
“I would have never let you go in there if I had known.”
Saylor stayed with me the whole time, talking to me in a soothing tone, trying to get me to calm down and stand, to try to push up the hatch or make any sounds, scream for help, or clatter stuff so somebody would hear me. But memories gripped me, and I was frozen in place. His voice was muffled like I was hearing him through water, and I couldn’t move a muscle, even if I wanted to.
My whole body could only shake, and I couldn’t form a single thought that was not pure panic. And thenhecame and saved me. The man who is now holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, soothingly humming a tune.
He had to carry me out of the truck and into the living room. I clung to him even harder when he wanted to sit me down. It is embarrassing how I threw myself on a stranger, but he was my lifeline in the dark.
He felt so...safe. Safe and warm and cozy. I’ve never felt like this with a man, and I don’t even know his name.
I take a deep, shuddering breath to stop the crying and take in his sandalwood scent.
“Hey, Shortcake, you back?” Apron Guy asks gently, turning his head to me and pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear to be able to see my face. The move takes me by surprise, and I turn my head to him too, bringing us nearly nose to nose. “There you are,” he whispers gently while searching my eyes.
He pushes away a tear from my cheek with his thumb, and the motion brings my consciousness slamming back into my body. I scramble to stand, and he lets go of me reluctantly.
“I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what—” I start rambling, hugging myself, but he interrupts me.
“You’re fine. You had a panic attack. No wonder, who wouldn’t if they got closed into such a small place,” he soothes.
“I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you like that. I’m sorry,” I apologize, taking a step back.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
“It’s fine. You were out of your mind with fear. You weren’t thinking straight. I know the feeling. It’s no big deal. Honestly,” he assures me. “Do you feel better? Can I make you some tea?”
“I think I should just go,” I mutter, trying to turn, but my knees are weak, and I nearly fall on my butt when I trip over the carpet.
He reaches out and grabs my upper arm while still sitting on the couch.
This guy is big.
“Sit,” he tells me, his tone a little commanding but still gentle, like he’s talking to a child. “I’m gonna go make you some tea. You drink it, and then you can go when you’re not so jittery anymore.”
He stands and makes his way to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room with Saylor.
“He’s the good guy from our bunch, so don’t worry,” Saylor reassures me, sitting on the armrest of the couch. I raise an eyebrow at him, not wanting to talk and make Apron Guy think I’m even crazier than he already does. “Hunt is the kind of guy you want by your side when shit goes down. The guy I would leave my girl with when I couldn’t be there, so I’ll do just that.” He grins before he vanishes.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss through clenched teeth.
I go through hell for him, and he just dumps me here?
When I turn my head back to the room, the child stands in front of me, his head tilted, eyes fixed on me. His sudden appearance makes me jump. “Oh my God,” I breathe out,putting my hand over my heart while closing my eyes and letting out a breath.
He just stares, and a chill runs down my neck as he does. I search the space behind him to find the drowned woman standing in the corner of the room, watching us. But she doesn’t move or try to talk again, so I ignore her and focus back on the child.
“Hi,” he says in a sweet voice, so soft I can barely hear him.
“Hi,” I greet back, forcing myself to give him a small smile.
“Who are you?” he asks me, his blue gaze curious.
“I’m Sloan. Who are you?” I ask, and he starts to laugh, a small giggle.
“Sloan is a boy’s name. You’re a girl.”
