Page 68 of Safe Place

She’s gasping, breaths too fast, her whole body trembling, her fingers still clutching her shirt like she’s holding herself together by threads.

“Sophie?” My voice comes out rougher than I mean, cracking under the weight in my chest. “Baby, look at me.”

She doesn’t. She can’t. She’s crying almost hysterically. Her breaths are sharp and frantic, her body shaking like she’s fighting to stay in her own skin.

“Shit,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. Fuck, fuck, what do I do? My pulse is racing just as fast as hers, and it’s like there’s not enough air in the car for either of us.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” I blurt. “You need⁠⁠—”

She jerks her head violently, tears streaking down her face. “No—no hospital.”

My chest tightens, my own breathing going uneven as panic claws up my throat. “Soph, I don’t—God, I don’t know how to help you.” My voice cracks, anger and fear tangling together in my chest. I’ve never felt this fucking helpless in my life. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’ll cover the fees, okay? Don’t worry about the money. Just—please. Let me take you.”

She shakes her head more frantically, crying even harder now, gasping between words. “Please…no. I just…need a minute. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. Watching her like this—sobbing, trembling, struggling to breathe—it’s tearing me apart. My chest feels like it’s caving in, like I’m physically breaking from not being able to fix this for her.

All I can do is hold her hand. Just hold her hand like a useless fucking idiot while she falls apart right in front of me.

“Alright,” I whisper, forcing my voice steady even though my throat feels tight. I squeeze her hand, gently, desperately. “I’m here, Soph. I’m not going anywhere. Just hold onto me.”

Minutes crawl by like hours. I keep my eyes on her the whole time, watching her every shaky breath, wishing I could take every ounce of this pain from her.

Slowly—thank God—slowly her breathing starts to even out. The tremors in her hands quiet. Her sobs soften to small, broken hiccups.

“Good,” I murmur, my voice soft but strained. “You’re okay. You’re safe, baby. I’ve got you.”

I reach for the only water bottle I have in the cupholder. “Here,” I say, holding it out carefully, “I drank some earlier today, but I can grab you a new one from the vending machine if you⁠⁠—”

Her hand shoots out, gripping my arm, her voice still shaky. “No. Please don’t leave me.”

My chest twists so hard it hurts.

“Okay,” I whisper immediately, setting the bottle in her lap. “I’m not leaving. I’ll stay right here.”

Once she’s calmer, I reach into the back seat and grab a cashmere sweater I keep in the car for last-minute meetings. It’s soft and definitely too big for her, but I can’t look at her ripped shirt without anger burning in my chest. “Here, wear this,” I say gently.

She takes it with a shaky hand, slipping it on quickly, still clutching her torn shirt until she’s fully covered, before taking it off.

I want to ask what happened. I want to find and destroy whoever did this to her. But I stop myself—because one of us has to stay calm. And right now, that has to be me.

“We’ll talk later,” I say quietly, meeting her eyes. “Right now, we’re going to my place.”

She nods, still holding onto my arm like she doesn’t trust me not to disappear.

I glance at her, my jaw tightening as I think about the torn shirt she was holding onto with trembling hands. Whoever did this—I swear I’ll kill him.

But for now, I just drive. I’ll find him, and I won’t let her brush it off. Not this time.

NINETEEN

Did you just say friends?

SOPHIE

Warmth is the first thing I notice.

Then the quiet. Then the fact that, for once, my body doesn’t feel like it’s been holding itself together all night.