Page 138 of Reckless

Ghost.

For a second, neither of us moves. His eyes spot the raised knife in my hand, then me, and the color drains from his face so quickly it almost frightens me all over again. “Sage…”

The knife slips from my fingers, clattering uselessly onto the closet floor.

I don’t remember crossing the space between us.

One second, I’m sitting there, and the next, I’m throwing myself into him so hard he actually takes a step backward to catch my weight. His arms are around me before I even realize I’ve moved.

Holding me together where I can’t seem to do it myself.

A sob tears out of me so violently my knees almost give way.

“I’ve got you.” His voice is rough against my hair. “You scared the hell out of me.”

I bury my face against his chest, clutching handfuls of his cut like if I let go for even a second, this will all disappear. “I thought…” My voice breaks completely. “I thought…”

“You’re safe now.”

His hand slides over the back of my head, cradling it against him. “It’s over.”

“I’m s-sorry.” The words spill out between sobs before I can stop them. “I shouldn’t have… I should have let you come over.”

“Hey.” He pulls back just enough to make me look at him. “No.” His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing away tears almost as quickly as they fall. “This isn’t on you.”

I shake my head. “I told you not to come over.”

“And some asshole decided to break into your home.” His jaw flexes. “Those two things are not the same.”

I stare at him, tears still blurring everything. For the first time since I heard the back door handle move, I breathe.

Really breathe.

His forehead rests against mine. “You with me?”

I nod, barely.

His eyes search mine, checking every inch of my face the same way he checks every room before he walks into it.

Satisfied with whatever he finds, he leans forward and kisses me. His lips linger against mine for one long, grounding moment before he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine again.

“Nobody gets to scare you like that again,” he whispers.

I shake my head, tears still spilling down my face. “You can’t stop everything.”

His forehead stays pressed against mine. “No.” His voice is quiet and certain. “But I can make damn sure they will regret trying.”

Another wave of tears hits me.

This time they’re different.

This time it is relief.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders, keeping me tucked firmly against his side as he bends to retrieve the knife from the closet floor before guiding me out into the bedroom.

Only then do I really see him.

His shirt is hanging open, one boot untied, his chest rising harder than I’ve ever seen it. He must have run the last stretch from the bike.