Page 34 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

He just didn’t know how.

Instead, Cross did this. He went when she called, he made sure she was safe, and he kept her that way for as long as he could.

Catherine would disappear into his blankets and bed until she was ready to face the world again. Cross made sure she always had the time to do exactly that.

No matter what.

“Cross?”

Her quiet, muffled question had him crossing the bedroom.

“Yeah, babe?”

From beneath the blankets, he heard her ask, “Will you get in bed? I’m cold.”

Sure, she was.

He knew what she wanted.

He kicked off his shoes, and stripped down to his boxer-briefs. Climbing into the bed, and hiding beneath the blankets like she had done, Cross found Catherine staring at him.

Maybe he understood why she did this all too often with him.

Maybe it made more sense.

The world looked nicer under here.

With only her …

It was safer.

Silently, he reached out and pulled her in tight to his body. His arms cradled around her like a cage keeping her safe, and warm.

Catherine buried her face into his chest, and let out a soft sigh. “Thanks, Cross.”

Her unspoken words were far louder.

She had a problem with talking lately.

“No problem.”

Questions rattled around in his mind—things he needed to ask, but could never seem to say. It wasn’t like him to be so reserved with anybody, but that was the thing.

Catherine wasn’t just anyone.

She was her.

She was his.

He wanted to know if this was the last time he would have to go pull her from some house party, but he didn’t think it would be. He wanted to ask if they were ever going to get back to being them again, but was a little scared of the answer.

Her parents were probably wondering where she was. No doubt, Cross would be the one to take her home again in the morning, while at the same time, trying to avoid the burning glares Dante Marcello tossed his way.

Did she know how he felt her father’s hate grow with every new morning he showed up with a hungover Catherine in his car? Did she even care at all?

It was hard to say, and he wasn’t willing to ask. Sometimes, talking did no good lately when it came to Catherine.

She raged, sure.