Page 57 of Twisted Tate

God, she is so fucking brave it breaks my heart.

“Okay, baby.” I take the key from her. “But you stay right beside me. The second it becomes too much—”

“I know.” She manages a small smile. “You will be there.”

“Always, baby girl.”

We continue down the hall. Each step feels heavier than the last. When we reach the door, I fit the key into the lock and turn it. The mechanism clicks, and the sound is deafening in the silence.

I push the door open and step inside first.

The room is large and set up to entertain. I see the brown leather couch. Bookshelves lined with volumes that have likely never been read. The faint smell of cigars permeates the entire room.

It looks like any wealthy man’s study. It could be a room where business deals are made and expensive whiskey is poured.

But I know what this room really is. I know what happened on that couch. I know what Reese endured here.

And I’m going to burn it to the fucking ground.

“The safe is behind that painting.” Reese’s voice comes from the doorway. She has not crossed the threshold. “The one with the man in the blue coat.”

I turn to look at her, and my chest cracks open.

She is frozen. Her face has gone white, and her eyes are fixed on the couch.

“Baby girl.” I move toward her. “Look at me.”

She doesn’t respond. Her breathing is getting shallow, rapid. Her fingers are pressed hard against her lips, and her whole body has started to tremble. I should have never let her come here.

“Reese.” I grip the back of her neck, firmly enough to anchor her. “You are not back there. You are here with me. Right now.”

She blinks, and her eyes focus on my face for just a second before sliding away again.

“I can smell them.” Her voice is strangled, as she begins to sob. “The cigars. The cologne. I can smell them, Tate. They are here. They are—”

“They are not here.” I pull her against my chest, blocking her view of the room with my body. “There is no one here except us. You are safe. I have you, baby girl.”

But she is spiraling. I can feel it in the way her body shakes and the way her breath comes in ragged gasps. Her mind is not here with me. She is somewhere else, somewhere dark and terrible, and I am losing her.

“I need—” She is clawing at my shirt, desperate. “Tate, I can’t breathe. I need—”

“Baby,” I plead with her. “Stay with me baby. Come back here with me.”

“Is she alright?” Fox asks, coming to check on us.

I motion for him to back away. “Help Thorne. I’ve got her.”

“I–” She chokes between a sob. “Ta—” She tries to say my name and then she opens her mouth again but nothing else comes out.

I back her against the wall, away from the doorway, away from the view of that fucking room. Fox and Thorne are inside now, moving toward the safe, giving us what privacy they can. I don’t give a shit if they see. I don’t give a shit about anything except the woman in front of me who is drowning in memories.

“Look at me.” I grip her jaw and force her eyes to mine. “I am going to give you what you need. You don’t have to ask. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Just take it.”

I reach for my belt with my other hand. Her eyes drop, and I see the desperate relief flood her face before I even free myself.

“Take what you need, baby girl.” My voice is rough, wrecked. “I have got you.”

She sinks to her knees and wraps her lips around me, and the tension starts to drain from her shoulders immediately. She is not sucking, not moving, not trying to get me off. She is just holding me in her mouth, using the weight of me to ground herself in the present.