In loss.
In... so many other things.
I didn’t say anything else as I sobbed in his arms, salty and snotty and absolutely disgusting.
He held me tightly.
Stroked my back.
Tied my hair up, out of my face.
Kissed my forehead. My cheek. My throat.
Eventually, I fell into a fitful sleep.
He didn’t let go.
When I woke up,we were in the exact same position.
My eyes weren’t swollen from crying anymore.
I wished they hurt.
I felt like I deserved that.
Maverick’s hand was still moving slowly over my back. His breath brushed the side of my throat every few seconds.
He wasn’t sleeping.
I wasn’t sure if he had gotten any rest at all, but it felt like at least a few hours had passed.
My throat swelled.
I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, then let out a slow breath.
I couldn’t put it off anymore. It was time to face the music.
“How pissed are you?” My voice cracked when I spoke, the sound barely more than a breath.
“Pissed is the wrong word for what I feel.”His voice was low, but not harsh.
My throat swelled.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the right word was.
“I need you to tell me everything, Bloom. No secrets. No lies. No hiding anything. I need every fucking detail.”
I let out a shaky breath. Forcing myself to sit up, I met Maverick’s gaze, looking for those emotions I’d expected last night.
Betrayal.
Fury.
I didn’t find them.
He just looked tired. And bloody.
He’d cleaned some of it off his face and hands, but there were splotches he’d missed on his chin and neck. His chest and arms had a lot of dried spots, and there was a puckered wound on his arm that looked like it was still finishing healing.
