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“Bella doesn’t need this on her shoulders right now. Not without more facts. Hell,” he said, running his hand across his face and then over his hair. She rarely saw him agitated like this.
That composure of hers didn’t want to stay locked up either.
Screw it. She went with her gut and pulled him into her arms.
Maybe they both needed it.
The embrace. The comfort. The knowing that someone was supporting you.
And he hugged her back. Hard.
Held on as if his life depended on it.
As if letting up just a little would make the cracks holding him together shatter.
Somewhere between hating the mess dumped on his life and working through embarrassing teenage girl conversations, the man she was in love with had come to think of his younger half-sister as his own child.
As someone he would stand in front of and fight fiercely for, putting his own worries aside to shield Bella.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t need to talk about it.”
He held on a minute longer. Just silence between them.
The kind that said, whatever the future held, they’d get through it.
He finally loosened his grip, but only enough to lean back and look at her.
His eyes were tired. Not broken. Just heavy with the weight of too many things landing on him all at once.
She knew that look. She’d seen it plenty before in the mirror.
But never like this. Never this personal.
“I hate not having answers,” he admitted quietly.
“I know.”
“I hate not knowing if I’m about to blow Bella’s world apart. Fuck. Right now, I just hate life in general.”
“Hey,” she said, her hand rubbing his arm. “You don’t know that yet.”
“Yeah, I do. She never talks about her mother. Never in a good light. There is no way Bella is going to be happy or excited if her mother is back. So when she finds out,” he said, “and this looks the way I’m sure it’s going to, I’ve got to be the one to tell her.”
His voice cracked just slightly on the last word.
As if he knew it had to be him, as much as he’d prefer it’d be anyone else.
That alone nearly broke her composure.
That he was opening up so much.
That the funny, friendly guy she knew when she was younger, and was still that as a man, was showing some raw emotions.
And that hate he talked about.
She was positive a lot had to do with showing his vulnerability also.
She shifted on the couch so she was facing him more fully, one hand sliding up to his cheek. He leaned into it without hesitation.
