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Noah’s arms pull me in tighter. “You don’t have to today. We can do it another day if you need more time.”

“What if I can’t ever do it?”

“Then you don’t have to.”

My fingers twitch in the fabric of his shirt. “But others might get hurt. He…he did it to others before me. I don’t know what happened to them. What if there are people looking for them?”

“It’s a possibility. Whatever you decide to do, we’re here to support you.” His words caress the crown of my head, and he gently places a kiss on my hair.

I want to stay here, drowning in his warmth, his chest rising and falling beneath my cheek, the heat from his skin, the musky scent of his aftershave.

“I need to do it.” I nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to muster the courage to dig deep and find the place inside me where I can retreat and shut myself off.

Except now it doesn’t want to come, leaving me having to feel everything as I relive it all.

TWENTY

MAX

I don’t loiter or wait for Rosy’s reply, unable to stand and watch her wrapped in Noah’s embrace, to see her head rest against his chest, her hands fisted in the back of his shirt, and not desperately want that for myself.

It’s a struggle to hold back from her when all I want, all I crave, is to hold her.

Hearing her wake repeatedly last night was agony; there’s no other word I can use to describe it. Watching her trapped in the nightmare, waking up gasping with her breath hitching. Fuck, it shredded through me.

She still doesn’t know my part in this, that I turned my back on her when I walked away.

Nate’s hard gaze meets mine as I sit on one of the sofas, about as far away from Logan as I can get. It doesn’t feel right for me to be here, but my body won’t allow me to leave either.

He’s still watching me, jaw flickering with something building inside him ready to chew me out. His neck twists as Rosy walks into the space with Noah, his arm curled around her shoulders to guide her in.

“Hi, Rosy, I’m Detective Thorne, but you can call me Logan. My friend is a friend of Noah’s, and I’ve been helping them look for you,” he says as Rosy takes a seat on the sofa next to Nate.

Logan sits on the chair opposite, the one Noah usually sits in. But I barely give them a lick of attention, too focused on watching her body instantly curl forward, fingers knotting together in her lap.

My body is strung tight at the restraint needed to hold back from sliding between her knees and wrapping my arms firmly around her.

Nate thrusts his palm up towards her, and Rosy only hesitates a moment, then slides her fingers through his.

“Do you want anything to drink, Logan?” Noah asks, breaking the silence and taking some of the attention off Rosy.

Except mine. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I take in her pale cheeks, her shallow breaths, and her slightly unfocussed eyes as her jaw clenches and unclenches.

“No, that’s okay.” He nods, pulling out a notepad and placing it on the coffee table.

Logan explains the interview process, but I tune him out, watching as the pulse in her neck quickens.

“I…I know I need to do this,” she tells him, then looks up at Nate. My chest caves. I wish it were me she looked to for reassurance. “Will you stay? All of you? I don’t want to talk about it…but it’s best you know.”

My mind screeches to a halt at her request. I’m about to make my excuses. I don’t have the right to stay here. Her eyes flick to mine. Everything stills around us; the plea in her face is too much for me to refuse.

Fuck, no. I can’t do it. I can’t leave her.

Maybe that’s what I deserve; to sit here and listen to her reveal everything the monster did to her. To listen and acknowledge everything I could’ve stopped if I’d been better.

“We’re here,” Nate tells her, then drops a kiss on her knuckles.

Her sharp inhale is like a dagger to my chest.