“Talk to me.” I headed to the kitchen, turned on the tap, and scrubbed the dirt out from under my nails.
“About what?”
I hummed under my breath, as if I was thinking it over.I wasn’t.I knew exactly what was going on. It’s exactly what had destroyed me when I first started working for Valentine.
Depression.
The loss of normalcy.
Regret.
Mourning.
I peeled off the damp T-shirt that was plastered to my chest as I sauntered over to the bed. My jeans were next.
That made her lift an eyebrow.
“Come on,” I eased down into the bed. “Talk to me.”
Amelia rolled over, facing away from me.
She wasn’t getting away with that. I wedged an arm beneath her and dragged her up and onto my lap.
Amelia flopped backward against my chest and groaned. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. No one’s fine when you’re in our situation. I’m not fine, so I don’t want you pretending like you are.”
“Jude—”
“When Cole and I got out of the Navy, Cole had a job lined up with this fancy private security firm. They had a spot for me too. They hire a lot of former military and intelligence types.” I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I regret not taking that job every single day.”
The personal tidbit worked, piquing her curiosity. “Why didn’t you?”
I sighed. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“What’s your plan after this?”
The odds of her winning her way out of this were high. But the odds of both of us getting out of it unscathed were slim to none. The moment the smoke settled, I was going to find her.
But I couldn’t scare her with reality. I needed her to focus.
“We have to get out of this first. Then we’ll think about what’s next.”
Silence lingered as we sat together. After sixty seconds, her tense muscles began to relax. After ninety seconds, she slumped against me and let me hold her. And at ninety-seven seconds, she tucked her head under my chin. “I was angry at Joel yesterday.”
“And today?”
“I miss him.” A tear streaked down her cheek. “I miss him so much it hurts, but I’m still so angry at him . . . I hate him. And I hate myself for it.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “And I kind of hate you too.”
“Good.”
Amelia let out a caustic laugh. “Why is that good?”
“Because you’re holding multitudes. When your emotions become singular, you lose your edge. That’s when people give up. We’re not out of the woods yet. I want you to be angry. Hate me. Like me. Tolerate me. Be hurt. Be sad. Have good days. Have bad days. Recognize them all because that kind of self-awareness will keep you going.”
“I hate it.”
Her ire made me laugh.
