Somehow, that hurts more after the gentle way he handled me on the way out of Brody’s, the way he kept his arm around me in such a comforting way that I think if he hadn’t been there, I’d have fallen apart.
But I guess he’s waking up to the reality of what he’s dealing with now.
I shouldn’t have started depending on him so much.
I shouldn’t have wanted to.
“Sorry.” I shake my head weakly. “It’s nothing.”
“Murder doesn’t sound like nothing to me, Fliss. From the way you reacted, you already suspected what Bitters said.” Hearing it spelled out that way nearly gags me with truth, and he’s not done. “You know something about the gold, don’t you? Something you aren’t telling me.”
What do I even say when he’s glaring down?
When he’s totally right?
When he’s been nothing but honest, generous, and overprotective?
All while I lied by omission to his handsome face.
End me.
“There’s a reason...” I strangle out, scrubbing my hands over my face.
I can’t look at him anymore. He’s always been so forgiving, but I can’t stand seeing that shuttered look on his face. That withdrawal. That disgust.
Sooner or later, he’ll start looking at me the way the town rumor mill does, and it kills me.
I owe him an explanation, don’t I?
“I never meant to hide anything. It’s just...this entire mess has ruined my effing life, Alaska. I had ideas, but I didn’t know how bad it was until now. Not beyond a reasonable doubt. Now, I know my father died because of it, and I—I probably will, too. Even if I don’t, this is going to haunt me forever.” I can’t help how my voice breaks. “I’ll never be free.”
I’m just waiting for the slamming door.
Waiting for him to realize I’m too much trouble, too dangerous, and walk away like a sane person.
So I’m not expecting to hear, much less feel his massive bulk moving toward me.
Alaska sinks down on one knee in front of me and pulls my hands away from my face with a gentle strength. His hands take mine, dwarfing them, fully engulfing my fingers, while those heart-stopping sand storms for eyes drill his rough spirit into mine.
“Look,” he growls, his voice like distant thunder. “Nothing’s inescapable, Fliss. Nothing. I don’t even believe that shit about death and taxes after the number of times I’ve dodged death, and after seeing some real colorful Alaskan tax returns.” He squeezes my hands with unshakeable certainty—and even if he’s a human rock, I’m trembling anyway. “Whatever’s going on, you can start over. You can make it right. We’ll find a way. You’re stubborn as hell, Fliss, but you wouldn’t be stubborn if you weren’t strong enough to weather it.”
I don’t feel strong right now.
More like I’m approaching a total nervous breakdown.
And when he pulls me into his arms—
Yeah. There it is.
Let’s call it borrowed strength.
He’s so perfect; he’s the one who’s strong, his arms cradling me like this silent, strange promise that says there’s nothing about me so terrible he’d ever think I don’t deserve the warmth he’s giving right now as he gathers me against his chest.
There’s no holding back.
I snap like a twig, shattering into brittle pieces with a hoarse sob.
Amazingly, it doesn’t feel as awful as I expected.
More like it’s safe to break down here in his arms. The only place I might ever feel secure again.
Like I can crash into as many pieces as I need to, but it’s okay as long as he’s there, catching me and holding me together so no part of me gets lost.
No part of me is broken, forsaken, because he’s keeping me whole.
While these sobs hollow me out, ripping pain from my core, he strokes his fingers through my hair and murmurs soothing, formless things.
Words that don’t have to make sense when what matters is the heat of his presence and the wall of his embrace.
After a moment, there’s the brush of soft fur against my thigh.
Shrub lets out a sympathetic whine, pressing his wet nose against me.
I’m shredded.
I’m surrounded by love I don’t deserve, and I’m not strong enough to turn it away.
Slowly, my ears work again, and those soft man-whispers resolve into words, steady and certain, rumbling low.
“We can still make this right,” Alaska says. “You can turn the gold in to the Feds. With Flynn’s testimony, the gold, and those fingerprints, plus me standing by, you might be able to open a case and get the law involved. Find real justice for your dad, so these people who killed him can never hurt you. So you can finally have a life.”
There’s a fierceness in his voice that says he’d hunt Paisley down himself if he could.
I pull back just enough to look up at him through my teary-eyed blur, confusion mixing into the muddle of raw emotion lashing around inside me.
“I don’t...understand,” I whisper. “Why are you even worrying about this? I’m not your problem. You’ve got a life of your own. You’ve got Eli, and...and he’s your everything. I’m just a huge complication. I can only make things worse.”
I try to talk sense. I try to reason.
I try to push him away, to save him before he suffers for me.
Then, in a few growled words, he breaks my heart all over.
“Yeah? Funny as hell I don’t see it when I look at you, woman. You haven’t done shit but make my life brighter since the day I met you.” Every word rings with bold sincerity, like he’s saying a prayer and blessing me with his gaze. “Felicity, fuck. I wish you could see yourself like I do. And if you’re complicated? You’re the kind of complicated I need in my life. Let me give you fair warning: no amount of crying, screaming, clawing, or begging’s gonna change my mind.”
Every part of me says that can’t be true.
Not when my complications could get people killed.
But I can’t call him a liar, not when I’m huddled in his arms, looking up at him like I can’t see anything else. The living room light forms a halo behind him, casting his face into shadow, but his eyes are unmistakable.
They’re locked on mine.
Dark with such intense emotion I don’t dare to want, to have, to keep it for myself.
But I never said I could resist, did I?
Especially when he pulls on me, offering the scratch to an itch I never knew I had, a need I could never put into words.
To feel safe.
To feel safe with a man, to trust him, to put myself in his hands and know he’ll do everything in his power not to obliterate me.
I’m trembling the instant he touches my cheek and I can’t stop.
Yes, I know what’s coming, but I’m still denying it’s even possible when he leans down toward me.
His breaths ask a silent question, caressing against my skin, painting what he wants on my lips, asking me to take him in.
Parting my lips, inhaling his air, it feels like I’m already tasting him, acquiescing...
...and there’s not even a moment’s hesitation when his lips descend on mine.
I full-on detonate.
I’ve never, ever been kissed like this.