I take it. Let her hit me. Let her scream.
"I thought he was dead!" Her fists pound against my chest. "I thought everyone was dead and it was my fault for surviving and you just—you just—"
"I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate. Useless.
"Sorry?" She laughs, wild and broken. "You're sorry? You let me think my brother burned alive, and you're sorry?"
"Yes."
"Fuck you!" Another hit. Harder this time. "Fuck you, William!"
I catch her wrists. Hard this time. Hard enough to stop her cold.
She fights me. Twists. Tries to pull free. But I'm stronger, and we both know it.
"Let me go!"
"No."
"William—"
"Not until you fucking calm down."
"Calm down?" She's still struggling, her whole body fighting against my grip. "You want me to calm down? After what you just put me through?"
"I know you're angry—"
"I'm not angry!" The scream tears out of her throat. "I'm furious! I'm devastated! I'm—"
She breaks off. Breathing hard. Her wrists are small in my hands, delicate bones under smooth skin. I can feel her pulse racing, wild and frantic.
We're standing too close. Close enough that I can see the tears on her lashes. Close enough that I can smell her perfume.
Close enough that when she looks up at me, I can see the exact moment fury shifts into something darker.
Something dangerous.
"You bastard," she whispers. But it sounds different now. Breathless. Rough.
"I know."
"I hate you."
"I know that, too."
"Reilan's really alive?"
"Yes."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone."
The sob that comes out of her is relief and rage all mixed together. Her body sags, the fight draining out of her.
But I don't let go of her wrists.
Can't let go.
