Page 101 of Thaw My Heart

“Hey, are you okay?” She wakes, rising from the bed with the sheets wrapped around her, watching me pace around the room. Her doe eyes meet mine, and I instinctively fall on my knees in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

My rough hand finds hers, holding it firm. Reminding her how safe she is with me. “Sadie, you know I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” she smiles, looking at me like I’m crazy.

“You could stab me, and I still wouldn’t hit back.”

“But I would never—” Her eyes search mine, flickering with anxiety. “Why are you saying all of this? Why are your hands shaking?”

I swallow, and it feels like acid in my throat. “I need you to tell me the name of the man who did this to you.”

“What?” she gasps.

My finger brushes her chin. “Tell me who gave you those scars, Sadie.” A name so I could destroy him.

“What?” Her chest heaves. “No,” water fills her eyes. The warmth in her expression turns cold. My mouth opens, but she cuts me off. “No,” she says again, shoving me aside. Leaving the sheet behind her as she runs into the bathroom naked, slamming the door.

My body braces the door between us. “Sadie, please⁠—”

“Just leave me alone, Kit!” she cries, saying inaudible words as she continues to sob. “I don’t want to talk about it. Ever. I can’t—” her words cut off with her sobs.

My heart feels like it’s being torn apart. Like someone is crushing it in the palm of their hands, while I listen to her jagged breaths and sobs through the door.

There is no world in which I could leave her alone.

“Please, Sadie, let me in.” My voice is soft, steady, even though my insides are roaring.

“I can’t talk—I can’t,” she says over and over again.

“Then we won’t talk. Please, Sadie. Open the door.”

“No,” she cries. “No, leave me alone!”

“I can’t just—” A breath of hot air escapes my mouth. “Look, just let me hold you, okay? I’ll say nothing. Please just—please let me do that.”

A few moments pass before she cracks open the door. Sitting on the cold floor, curled into a ball.

My arms wrap around her, lifting her off the tiles. I carry her to bed and pull the blankets around us, cradling her small body in my lap. Letting her cry until she’s ready to stop. Repeatedly whispering in her hair that she’s safe, that I’ll never let anyone hurt her again.

A promise I intend to keep for as long as I draw breath.

With the morning light drifting in, wrapping the room in soft light, I’m not sure how long has passed. My clock is behind me, and I don’t dare move a muscle. She needs to feel safe, and I’ll do that.

For however long it takes.

“You should get that,” she murmurs against my chest.

My phone has been buzzing nonstop for at least half an hour now. I’m guessing the ranch is wondering where I am.

“They probably need you,” she continues.

“I know where I’m needed.” And right now, this is where I need to be.

She reaches for my phone on the bedside table. “You have twenty-five missed calls.”

“The ranch is probably on fire.”