Another tear slips free. Then another. Unstoppable. His thumbs brush them away as fast as they come, as if he’s trying to erase my pain.
“You love me?” I choke.
He doesn’t hesitate.
“I love you.”
I crash into his arms and let him hold all the broken pieces of me.
“Let it out, baby. Let it out. I’ve got you.”
His arms tighten, the room blurs, and every wall I’ve ever built crumbles.
And then, I shatter.
I pushthe flatbed trolley past the Happily Ever Booked shelves, ignoring the curious glances from women passing by with their baskets. No one’s stopped me yet, though the raised eyebrows are getting hard to miss.
Ho Ho Hockeymas is just around the corner. The guys and I are on a last-minute Christmas shopping run, but the holiday spirit hasn’t completely sunk in for me, so it’s been trying to say the least.
The lights and tinsel smear into the same meaningless glow. Normally, I’m the one indulging Rudy as he admires every stupid wreath we pass, but today it slides off me, leaving nothing but a hollowness behind.
Jack always made Ho Ho Hockeymas stupidly loud. His laugh echoes in my head now, too bright for how dark this season feels. His absence stings even if I know he’s here in spirit.
The investigation isn’t helping. Clarissa Rose is still in the wind. Laurel hasn’t been found, and The Octopus remains a shadow we can’t catch.
And Erin—my girl. The last few days have been brutal. She barely sleeps. Sometimes, I wake to the mattress shaking, her back to me, her breath stuttering as she tries to keep quiet.
It breaks me.
My body aches for her, for the pain she can’t turn off. I can’t take away her thoughts, can’t shield her from the weight of it all. Even though I want to.
I wheel the trolley out the door. The cold metal of the handle bites into my palms as I shove it toward the truck and load up Byrdie.
By the time I finish, the guys are walking in my direction, and somehow, they’ve cornered a grumpy Brax along the way.
Their voices hit me like background noise at first, until Oliver’s hands land on my shoulders and force me into the present moment.
“We’re going to Hendrick’s Bar,” Oliver announces, shoving me gently down the street.
“This was supposed to be my quiet time,” Brax grumbles out.
“One drink,” Oliver insists.
“Fine,” Brax concedes.
“Relax, Braxy,” Oliver sings. “The lingerie shops to treat your lady friend will still be open.”
Hayes snorts.
“I don’t have a lady friend, fuckboy,” Brax deadpans.
Oliver points at him. “Fifty in the swear jar.”
Brax rolls his eyes.
I chuckle.
Typical Oliver.
