His body goes rigid. Frozen. Like he doesn't know what to do with gentleness.
Then he breaks.
His arms come around me. Crushing. Desperate.
His body shakes.
Not sobs. Not yet. Just tremors. Deep, silent tremors that run through him like earthquakes.
"I'm sorry."
The words are muffled against my hair.
"I'm sorry."
His voice cracks.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a confession.
Like he's been holding these words inside for so long they're finally spilling out.
I hold him tighter.
His heart pounds against my chest. His breath comes in ragged gasps. His fingers dig into my back like I'm the only thing keeping him from drowning.
I don't let go.
I can't.
Because I know—Iknow—that his heart holds so much pain. So much grief. So much guilt.
The last thing he needs right now is for me to let go.
So I don't.
I hold him in the empty dining room while his body shakes and his voice breaks and his walls finally crumble.
And I don't let go.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Dante
The bathroom door closes behind me.
I lean against it.
My hands shake.
My whole body shakes.
I can't remember the last time I cried. Before tonight. Before Marina held me in that empty dining room while I fell apart.
And now?—
Now I can't stop.
