It’s the way he regards me, looking at me as if I’m not a burden. He sees me, and for once in my life, I don’t feel like I’m too much. I don’t feel the need to shrink myself under his gaze.
It’s that realization that breaks me.
An embarrassingly loud sob escapes me as tears flood my eyes. With a hand on my mouth, I shake my head, trying to hold them back.
I sniffle again, my shoulders caving in on themselves as I back away from the man I always seem to break down in hysterics around.
My retreat only spurs him on.
He crosses the threshold, stepping into the bedroom without hesitation, and cups my face.
“Please don’t cry. What can I do for you?” he asks. The sentiment is so simple, his words so sincere.
He honestly cares. And that makes me cry harder.
Anything I ask right now, he would do.
His ability to see me and his desire to help create an overwhelming emotional burden I can’t even begin to process.
He’s already done so much. Too much, honestly.
“I’m fine,” I lie between hiccups.
His brows furrow in disbelieving concern. “You’re very clearly not.”
I choke back another sob, trying to gather enough composure to fake it and tell him to go. But instead of any real words, all that escapes me is another pathetic whimper.
He snaps, dropping his hands and wrapping his arms around my shoulders.
The contact is everything, and my last bit of resistance evaporates.
I lose my balance and find myself leaning against his chest.
He holds me tighter.
My inability to keep my shit together just makes me cry harder.
I don’t even know what I’m upset about.
I’m so angry that I’m crying. I’m frustrated that, once again, I’m in hysterics in front of this gorgeous, powerful, in-control man. What is it about him that makes me lose my ever-loving shit?
He cradles me against him, cupping the back of my head.
A low, steady “shh” rumbles out of his chest, the sound vibratingthrough my body and soothing parts of me I didn’t even know could be soothed.
He strokes up the length of my spine, then hugs me tighter. Walking backward, he guides me toward the bed, then gently settles on the edge with me in his lap, whispering, “I’ve got you. It’s okay. Just let it out. I’ve got you.”
I lose it, every reasonable thought leaving my head as I well and truly fall apart in his arms.
CHAPTER 22
ALARIC
The natural ease with which I wake up is so much gentler than being woken by the violent sound of my alarm clock, which is necessary when traveling the world and constantly jumping from time zone to time zone.
With a heavy yawn, I stretch my legs, savoring the low pops in my back as I fully come to. I blink several times, the brightness of the room making me question what time it is.
I shift to fetch my phone from my pocket, but when my arm doesn’t move, I still, holding my breath. I’m trapped.
