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When the soap was gone, I snatched a nearby towel and wrapped it around his wet hands. Not bothering to dry mine, I grabbed his shoulders, easing back enough to turn him around.
His blue, angel eyes were wide with shock when I grabbed his face and forced it up so I could study it. “Can you breathe?” I asked, searching his skin for welts, rashes, or swelling.
He only stared as I held his face, studying every angle.
“Lars.” I gave him a shake. “Can you breathe? Did you eat anything?”
“I’m fine.”
“Max!” I roared. “Max!”
“I’m right here,” Max answered, his voice closer than I expected.
“I need my bag,” I yelled. “Hurry up. Get my bag.”
Max left, Lars’s eyes following him, but I made a sound, calling them back. “Eyes on me, angel.”
They came back, and breath expanded my lungs.
“Did you eat that?” I worried. “Did you eat anything in here?”
“No.”
“You didn’t tell them, did you?” I panicked, back in the moment that lived in my head rent free. Back in that horrible day when I watched the life literally drain right out of him. “You promised.” My voice cracked.
“Win.” Lars’s firm voice penetrated the chaotic fear drowning me. The towel I’d put over his hands fell onto my foot, and his still-wet hands gripped the front of my shirt, twisting tightly in the cotton. “I’m fine, Win. I’m not having a reaction.”
A noise vibrated my throat, my eyes desperately searching his face.
“Here’s your bag,” Max said, holding it out.
Lars’s hands left my shirt, reaching up to cup my face. My eyes slid closed for the briefest of moments.God, I missed his touch.
“Win.” He beckoned, and I looked at him. “I’m fine, okay? Everything’s fine. I’m right here.”
A broken sound fell between us, and I snatched him close, folding my arms around him and holding tight as if he might disappear. One of my hands slid up his back, finding its way into the strands of his hair. The second those pure, silky strands wrapped themselves around my fingers, a shudder moved through my body.
I exhaled, the panic and adrenaline receding to make room for rational thought. When awareness fully seeped in, I realized several things at once:
1. I’d just lost my shit in this kitchen.
2. I was holding Lars.
3. Everyone was standing here watching.
4. I was a complete and utter mess.
and
5. I didn’t want to let him go.
The silence in the room was astounding. Deafening, really. So loud that I didn’t even realize the faucet was still running until Max reached around us and shut it off. I felt Lars shift in my arms, but my fingers tightened in his hair, clutching him to me, still not quite ready to face what just went down.
One of his arms slid from my back, his fingers pressing into my side. “You stink,” he complained in that asshole tone he always used with me.
He’s okay.Whatever was left of the tension holding me hostage fell away, and my entire body slumped. I pulled back slowly, catching hold of his chin, forcing his face up for my scrutiny.
“Tell me you aren’t having a reaction,” I said, my voice slightly raspy.
