Same position. Same angle.
My hands are still raised. Still fisted.
I’m him.
For one terrible second, I can’t breathe.
What the fuck did I do?
I move before I can think. I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest, and carry her to my bedroom. My hands shake as I set her on the bed.
“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out rough. “Sunshine, I’m so fucking sorry.”
I step back, eyes raking over her body, looking for damage. Bruises. Blood. Something I can fix or can’t fix, evidence of what I’ve done.
She looks fine. Confused, maybe. A little rumpled.
“Matteo.” Sierra’s voice is soft. Careful. “I’m okay.”
“I pushed you.” My own voice sounds wrong. Too raw. Too exposed. “I could’ve hurt you.”
“You were having a bad dream. You didn’t.”
“I could have.”
She reaches for me, and I flinch.
“Hey.” She doesn’t pull her hand back. Just lets it hover in the air between us, waiting me out. “Come here.”
I can’t. Don’t know how to explain. I’m terrified of becoming him. Every time I lose control, I see Scott’s face instead of my own.
Sierra doesn’t wait for me to figure it out.
She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me close. “It’s okay,” she murmurs against my shoulder. “I’m okay. You’re okay.”
She's trembling. No matter what she says, I scared her. But she’s holding me anyway.
That breaks something open inside me. I hold her tight, burying my face in her hair. She smells like lemons and bar smoke, and the warmth of her body against mine is the only thing grounding me right now.
I pull her down onto the bed with me, tucking her against my side. Her head rests on my chest. My arm wraps around her waist. I reach over and turn off the lamp.
I’ve never done this before. Slept next to a woman without fucking her first. Taken comfort from someone’s presence instead of their body.
It should feel wrong. Weak.
It doesn’t.
Sierra’s hand finds mine, threading our fingers together over my stomach. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She doesn’t push. Just squeezes my hand and settles deeper into my arms.
“I’m glad you’re home,” I say before I can stop myself.
She doesn’t respond with words. Just lifts our joined hands to her lips and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles.
My throat tightens, and I swallow around something I can’t name.
