And I would. Because I was tough.
By the time Holt pulled his truck into the driveway, the sun had set. We were at the library a lot longer than he wanted to be, but we ended up having to wait for my manager to get there so I could explain to her exactly what was going on. And after that, we stayed to reshelf the books and help clean up some of the mess.
Not that I was very helpful. I was literally exhausted and the pain in my wrists was terrible. I wanted nothing more than a shower and a bed. Holt finally dragged me out of there, ignoring my protests and stuffing me in the truck. Silently, I was glad he did.
When he turned off the engine, he didn’t climb out. He leaned forward, using the steering wheel as a prop, and looked at me through the shadows inside the cab. “You’re a lot stronger than you look.”
I felt my lips curve. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“You know it is. You’ve been handling everything better than most of the men I know would.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were the fire chief?”
“Does it matter?”
“No.” And it truly didn’t. His job didn’t make him who he was. I had no doubt the reason Holt had that job was because of who he was.
He climbed out of the truck then, coming around to my side and yanking open the door. I moved to get out, but he reached in and lifted me down, his touch once more so achingly gentle.
“All I’m saying,” he said softly, “is if you need to cry, I have shoulder.”
His words were exactly what I needed to hear. It made me feel like I wasn’t as alone as I thought. “You’re a good man, Holt Arkain.” I reached up and touched his cheek. He grasped my hand and pulled it down to his mouth, pressing a few feather-light kisses to the inside of my palm.
It made me feel like all the strings that held me together inside had been untied and now everything was languid and free flowing.
“Come on,” he whispered, keeping hold of my hand and leading me to the front door.
Once inside, I slipped off my flip-flops and just stared off into space. I was so tired and emotional. I just wanted to be alone. I heard the door lock behind us and it seemed to be the sign my body was waiting for—the sign that told my brain it was okay to fall apart.
“I’m really tired. I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
I didn’t wait for him to protest, which I knew he probably would. Instead, I just went quietly back to his room and closed the door. I didn’t bother with the light. I liked the dark just fine. I didn’t even bother taking off my top and skirt. I just climbed up into the bed and sank down in the center, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tight.
Then I buried my face in another pillow and began to cry.
I hated to cry. But in that moment, it seemed if I didn’t release some of the things going on inside me, I might stop functioning.
I cried harder than I had in a very long time—only stopping when I had to let my face out of the pillow to suck in some much-needed air. Only the tears wouldn’t stop, so I would end up burying my face all over again and repeating the process.
I don’t know how long I lay there, but eventually I heard the door open. My entire body stiffened and my grip on the pillow increased to the point I thought the feathers filling it might come out the seam.
He didn’t say anything as he crawled onto the bed behind me. His hand slid over my hip and he gently pulled me around so I was lying on my back and he was staring down at me through the darkness. “I can’t stand to hear you cry anymore.”
He heard? Damn, I was trying to be quiet.
“Come here,” he murmured, settling down beside me, and pulled me alongside him. I fit up against him perfectly. He was so much bigger that he completely dwarfed me, and when I settled my head on his chest and he wound his arms around me, it was like I was completely surrounded by him. Like I was finally where I belonged. After all these years of searching, I finally found my place.
A few more tears leaked out and dripped on his shirt, but he didn’t complain. “It’s okay, Katie,” he murmured, stroking my hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“My entire life…” I said, pausing to drag in some air, “is a complete disaster.”
“You have me.”
For some reason those three words made me cry harder. Like the kind of cry that shook your insides and made ugly sounds rip from your throat. So very unattractive.
He didn’t say anything. He held me, just like that night in the parking lot. He was a complete rock while chaos reigned around him.