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Something between a sob and a scream tears from my throat. My arms swing, and swing, and swing, my fists colliding over and over until one skids off and I start falling. Arms catch me, immediately drawing me into a chest that smells like Maison. I curl into him, hands uselessly trying to clasp at his sweatshirt despite my gloves being in the way.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs as he effortlessly lowers us to the ground, bracing me against him. “Let it out. Go ahead. I’ve got ya.”
My face tucks into the empty place between his neck and shoulder as I sob. He holds me close, not quite in his lap, but not quite not either. I can’t stop trembling. My body hasn’t worked like that since back at the compound, and even then, it wasn’t like this. Enduring pain and holding positions is a different type of energy than an emotional breakdown accompanied by an amateur boxing workout. Plus, I’m out of shape, my body having gone weeks now without being forced into action.
Out of shape. Oh shit. Maison.
I lurch—or try to. He stops me, shushing in my ear. I turn my face to look at him as best as I can. “You’re hurt! I shouldn’t be fucking—and there’s no way your damn appointment is done already!”
“Nol, you’ve been down here for an hour. I’ve been watching you from that door for at least five minutes. It’s done, and I’m fine.”
I slump against him, trying to at least keep my weight toward his left side. “That’s why I’m so tired then?”
“Well, that and emotional breakdowns are pretty fucking tiring.”
“Says the guy who never lets himself have one,” I mumble, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“Says the guy who has at least one a day,” he says back. I go still. “I’m the head of this team for a reason, Nol. You think just because I wasn’t in the compound, I can’t play a part?”
My throat threatens to close. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I’ve been so focused on myself—”
“None of that.” He presses a kiss to my temple. Something catches inside of me. The sensation gets worse when he removes the gloves from my hands and begins to gently rub my sore fingers. What the fuck is happening? “Like I said, I’m fucking good at hiding shit. You saw more than anyone else, Nolan. You saw enough to make me get help.”
“Did you? Get help?”
“Yeah. Doc has me all squared away now, don’t worry.”
I want to ask him what squared away means. I want to ask if his ribs are broken or just bruised, if the pissing blood is normal, if he got anything to help him sleep. I want to ask if he was prescribed anything, or if Dr. Deacon handled the cuts on his back even though he hadn’t mentioned them in his initial flood of information, or if he’s going to see Dr. Singh next.
He beats me with a question of his own. “You feeling any better?”
“A little, maybe. Just tired now.” I sigh. “I’m sorry you saw… whatever that was. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
He makes a sound low in his throat. It’s distressed. Maybe even a little hurt. “I’m not dealing with you, Nolan. I’m just here for you. It’s okay to let someone be here for you, you know. You don’t always have to be the strong one.”
“Hypocrite,” I mumble.
He laughs softly. “Well, you’re the one who taught me to stop being all strong and shit. Maybe not so much taught me as forced me. Figured it was your turn.”
I trace the collar of his sweatshirt with a trembling finger, trying to reconcile the words with my own thoughts. “I didn’t really think I was trying to be the strong one. I guess I’m just used to bottling it all up.”
“They taught you to do that,” he murmurs. “They made you into someone who couldn’t fall apart. But you can now. You can fall apart anytime you want, Nolan. I’ll be right here.”
The time we sat in the kitchen flashes back to me, him talking of Japanese art. “Beautiful even though it’s broken,” I whisper.
“No,” he corrects. “Beautiful because it’s broken.”
“Only because someone put the pieces back together.” I turn enough to meet his eyes. “Is that what you’re going to do? Piece me back together?”
“If you’ll let me.” He chuckles, low and rumbly. “Seems only fair, since you’re already doing the same for me.”
Maison shifts me just enough for the lighting to change, making his eyes a brighter blue as he gazes at me with an intensity that steals my fucking breath. There’s something… more in that look, suddenly. Something I’ve never seen in those eyes before. Something I’m too afraid to define. It feels like an echo of that strange feeling that started in my chest before.
His grip on my hips tightens with just a pulse, almost like he’s trying to decide if I’m really here, if I exist, if he really has his hands on me. The tip of his tongue darts between his lips to wet them.
Something flutters at the base of my throat. My… heart, maybe? It’s wild with emotions. Lots of emotions. A fucking chaos of emotions.
“How are you feeling?” he whispers.
