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He blinked at me, his expression one of confusion. “Beauty. I swear I won’t let him touch you.”
I squeezed and some of his tightness eased. “Tell me who.” He glanced back at the mirror, and his lip curled in anger. “Look at me, Carlos.”
He dragged his eyes back to me. Behind the anger, there was fear.
“He’s dead,” he whispered. “He’s dead. Dead. Dead.” But his gaze went back to the rearview mirror as if it were magnetic.
I turned his face to mine and held it in place so he couldn’t look away. “What do you see?”
His throat bobbed when he swallowed. “Him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t want to look like him.” He almost sounded as if he was begging me to change his appearance. “I don’t want to see him anymore.”
My heart twisted. To see this strong man struggle was gut-wrenching. I needed to help him through this.
I rubbed my thumb across his cheek. “What do you see?” I asked again.
He shuddered when he released his breath. “You.”
“What else?”
Clarity returned to his dark pools. “Just you.”
“Does this happen a lot?” With every touch, he seemed to come back to reality.
“Just once since . . .” He shook his head as he trailed off. The hand that was behind his back covered my hand on his cheek. “He’s not coming back.”
The resolve in his tone was a complete turnabout and much more in line with the man I knew.
“Have you talked to someone about this?” I asked with quiet concern. What if I hadn’t been here? Who would bring him back when he went to this place?
“My sister.”
While I was relieved he didn’t carry this on his own, I wasn’t sure that was enough.
“It might help.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I put my thumb over his lips. “But I’m here.”
He sagged against the seat, his grip on my hand tightening. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” I repeated.
“He’s not.”
“No.” I hadn’t figured out exactly who he was referring to, but I guessed it was his father.
“You’re here.” The way he looked at me touched me to my deepest depths. Like I had rescued him. “I’m not wasting another second.”
His hand snaked around my neck until he cradled the back of my head. Then those tantalizing lips were on mine and all coherent thought evaporated. I leaned forward, desperate to reach him. He claimed my mouth like he needed me more than he’d ever needed anything. I got lost in how good his touch felt. How nice it was to be wanted.
And when he pulled away, I was dizzy with the loss. I realized my hand was still firmly clasped in his. Somehow that felt more intimate than the kiss we shared.
“You’re definitely here,” he said with much more confidence than before.
“Whenever you need.” Those were big words, but ones I meant. “Are you okay?”
“More than I have been in a long time.”
