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“Good.” He smiles faintly at me, and I reach up to touch his eyelids. They’re soaked. He blinks and turns his head, my hand trailing on his cheek. “This costume… You’re here for the kids, aren’t you?”
I don’t deny it. “And you’re here for your mom?”
He makes a choked sound, and I grab him tighter, not anymore for fear of falling to the ground.
Maybe for fear of falling for him. Much easier now, when I’m mired in doubt over Ryan and Riddick is right here, warm,
and solid. And so sad.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, and he hugs me back with a sudden fierceness, bruising my ribs. Not that I care. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” he breathes.
My face is smooshed against his broad chest. His jacket is open, and it’s only a thin cotton T-shirt. Through it, I can hear the hammering of his heart.
“It’s okay,” I explain, “to fall apart sometimes.”
“I can’t.”
“Sometimes you don’t have a choice.”
A ragged breath. “Others depend on me.”
“And who do you have to depend on?”
A half-laugh, half-sob wracks him. “Bry…”
“I mean it.”
He takes a few shuddering breaths. “You’re so serious. What happened to the funny girl I know and love?”
“She ran off with this guy who says he’s always fine, even when he’s not.” I swallow hard. “Humor is a defense, you know. Just like your snark.”
He’s very still in my arms. I might as well be holding a warm, life-size statue of a man. He’s breathing fast, though, and his hands are clutching at me like he can’t let go.
“What do you want, Bry?” he asks at last.
I don’t have to think about it much. “To take you home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sugar Plums in Black Lace
Riddick
She takes me to her apartment, and it’s a relief not to go back to mine that’s quiet like a tomb.
Xavier isn’t there. He took off again last night.
Then again, what’s new?
My head feels heavy and full of cotton as I climb out of my car and follow her into her building. She calls the elevator—and then takes my hand.
Everything else fades, apart from the feel of her slim hand in mine, a point of warmth to fight the chill that’s in my bones.
We ride up to her floor, and she lets go to unlock her door. Then she grabs my hand again and pulls me inside.
Her apartment is warm, the living room done in happy colors. Red carpet, green sofa, orange cushions, a poster on the wall. Knick-knacks and books on the shelves.
