Page 65 of His Secret Wish

The third-floor landing was so quiet, he almost felt like tiptoeing around. It felt like making any noise was going to upset the balance, although of what, he didn’t know. Which was dumb because everything felt off, like the world had tilted just enough to alter their trajectory. It was unnatural and off, and he hated every second of it.

He pushed open the bedroom door. Izzy was on the bed, curled up on her side, facing the wall. Her shoulders were shaking with her sobs.

His entire body ached for her. And for himself. Fuck the universe and its shitty plan.

He sat on the bed, placed his hand on her hip. She tensed and glanced at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, tears stains on her cheeks.

“Hey,” he said, which was totally inadequate. His voice was scratchy and low.

She sat up and threw her arms around him, burying her face against his neck. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight. Seemed his shirt was getting a workout today. She sobbed hard, her chest and shoulders heaving with the effort. His eyes filled with tears, and this time he let them fall.

He ran his fingers along her back, hoping it was soothing to her. She clung to him like he was her anchor, the only thing keeping her on the ground. And he was more than happy to be what she needed.

Eventually, she stopped crying, but like Claudia, she didn’t pull away from him. He brushed the tears off his cheeks and rubbed his eyes. Today had been exhausting, and it felt like he’d been run over by a bull. He tilted his head so his cheek was pressed to the top of her head.

They sat like that for a long time, just being. He was trying to get his thoughts in order, but they were scattered, fractured, and every time he reached for one, it slipped out of his grasp.

She dragged herself away from him, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was thick, the words hardly more than a whisper. She swiped at the spot on his shirt.

“It’s fine.” He grabbed her hand to stop the frantic motion. She looked up at him. Tears shimmered in her eyes, devastation in her gaze. He was sure the same thing was in his.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was still scratchy, the words painful against his throat.

She nodded, more tears tracking down her cheeks. “Will you hold me?”

“Of course, mi cariño. I would do anything for you.” The words slipped out unexpectedly. He knew it was too much for the moment, and he wanted to snatch them back. But it was too late.

She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. He didn’t know what it meant, what to do. Why was he such a fuck up when it came to this stuff?

After a moment that felt like an eternity, she opened her eyes, grabbed his hand, and pulled him down on the bed. He went more than willingly. She curled back up into the same position he’d found her in, and he moved up behind her, cradling her against his chest.

Her head was nestled under his chin, her hair tickling his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in her sweet scent. She was crying again, her body trembling against his. He held her tighter, pulling her closer.

They stayed like that until the sky outside darkened.

Finally, her breathing evened out, and she relaxed against him, falling asleep. His eyes felt gritty and sore, and he blinked a couple of times. On the last one, they stayed closed, and sleep overtook him.

Isabella opened her sore eyes, blinking a few times to get them to focus. It took a minute for her brain to catch up, disorientation making her feel queasy. Someone was holding her tight, her back pressed against their front. She glanced down at the hand pressed against her stomach. She’d know those hands anywhere.

She turned her head. He was asleep, his long, dark lashes resting against his cheeks. He had a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. There were also tear stains on his cheeks. Because he’d been crying. Because Yaya had died.

Her throat ached, but there were no more tears. Mostly because her tear ducts were way too sore. It didn’t help she was probably also massively dehydrated.

He stirred, his eyes opening. They were so incredibly blue this close up. “Hey,” he said, his voice a croak.

She turned over to face him, still in his embrace. It felt safe and comforting. His hand slid over her waist. The touch was hot, almost burning her through her t-shirt. She knew it wasn’t anything sexual, that he was just trying to comfort her. It wasn’t his fault her skin burned whenever he touched her.

“Thank you.” She tucked her head against his chest, shimmying closer.

He smoothed his hand over her hair. “Of course. I told you, mi cariño, I would do anything for you.”

The words slammed into her like a freight train, making her lungs lock. He’d said them to her before, when he’d found her, but at the time she’d been so emotional, they’d only slightly registered. But now the implication crashed against her in crystal clear clarity.

And it scared the shit out of her.

She needed to do something, anything to make all these emotions go away. Give herself a moment of peace where her world wasn’t crumbling around her. Where she knew what to say, what to do to make everything better.

If only it were that easy.