Her eyes land on me and for half a second she’s blank, like her brain can’t compute why I’m here.
Then her face crumples, mouth trembling, eyes red and wet, and she breaks again, like seeing me made it safe enough for it.
Her face drops back to her knees, and a sound comes out of her, pained and broken.
I cross the room in two steps and crouch in front of her.
“Hey,” I say. I touch my fingers to her cheek, and she lifts her head again, drenched blue eyes rimmed in red and barely focusing on me.
She shakes her head like she’s trying to shake the whole day off. Like she’s trying to stop the crying and can’t.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out.
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t apologize.”
Her hand scrubs at her cheek. Her fingers are shaking so badly she can’t even wipe the tears away.
“It was so quiet.” Her voice is harsh and pained, and that’s all she gets out before another sob cuts it off.
I don’t ask questions. Not now.
I slide one arm under her knees and the other around her back and lift her. She feels lighter than she did the last time she was in my arms. It pisses me off, but it’s not the time for that.
She makes a small sound and curls into me immediately, her hands clutching at my shirt like she needs something to hold onto.
Her cheek is wet against my collarbone.
Her breaths are sharp, broken, catching.
I carry her to the couch and sit with her in my arms, settling back into the cushions.
She ends up in my lap, turned sideways, her legs folded awkwardly, her face pressed into my chest.
I adjust her easily, and she goes limp like a rag doll.
One arm across her legs. The other braced around her back and cupping the back of her head, not forcing, just holding.
She cries harder.
A sob tears out of her and she curls tighter, shoulders shaking, fingers twisting in my shirt.
I let her.
That’s it.
I don’t tell her it’s okay; it would only be a lie.
I just let her cry.
Her shoulders jerk. Her breath stutters. Tears soak through my collar. Eventually, she tries to speak but fails, the words breaking.
“Shh,” I whisper into her hair, soothing. “Not yet. Get it all out first.”
The tears start again immediately, fresh and hot, like she was just waiting for the okay.
Chapter Nineteen
Erica
