about to crash down on her. She needed to get inside, get Micah settled down. Get a drink. Find a dark room and hide herself away—
“I’m really tired,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. “I think I’m going to go—”
“Hey.”
Noah’s hands came over her shoulders and she tried to jerk away, but those strong, beautiful hands were pretty insistent. “Trinity, come on,” he murmured.
The compassion in his voice all but broke her.
A sob rose in her throat and she shoved her fist against her lips to muffle it. Micah could come outside at any moment. She couldn’t cry. Not yet.
“Don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t. Not here, not now—”
“If not here, not now … then when? Hiding from it doesn’t make it better,” he murmured. He hooked an arm around her neck, drawing her close.
Unable to fight it, she sank against him. The solid, warm wall of his chest pressed against her cheek and she tried to swallow the sobs, the screams, as they clawed up her throat. She’d just let him hold her a minute. That would help, right?
He rested his hand on her nape.
“I’m almost positive when I go home,” he said, his voice low and soft, “that I’m going to freak out. I don’t know if us guys are supposed to do that. But I don’t care. That’s what I want to do.”
A hiccup escaped her.
“I keep seeing it and part of my mind is telling me that it wasn’t real—some sort of weird trick. But the rest of me—”
The sobs ripped out of her, and in the next moment Noah had her curled up in his lap.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips pressed against her temple. “That’s what you need to do. Get it out now.”
It had been manipulative and he knew it, the way he’d nudged her into crying. Maybe he should feel bad. But Noah suspected she was so used to hiding her emotions from everything and everybody—including herself—if she didn’t get it out now, she’d just keep hiding from it. The horror of what they’d both seen wasn’t the sort of thing that needed to be hid from.
Hiding never helped. He knew that from experience.
He had the worst feeling that she would have gone up to her room, pulled the blankets over her head and refused to let herself cry, even up there, for fear of scaring Micah.
As her body trembled, he brushed her hair back from her face. Every sob was like a hook in his heart, tearing and clawing through the flesh and ripping deep gouges into him. Yet he almost welcomed the pain.
She’d gotten to him, almost from the first, so it wasn’t a surprise that her pain left him gutted. He just wanted to take that horror away, make it all disappear.
Since he couldn’t, he just held her in his arms and kept the swing rocking.
Long moments passed before those deep, wrenching sobs passed.
The night had gone quiet around them before she spoke.
“You did that on purpose.” Her voice was raw and hoarse.
He blew out a breath and then looked down to meet her gaze. She wasn’t looking at him, though. Just staring off into the night. “I did. Should I apologize?”
“I haven’t decided. I planned on crawling into the bed and just trying to block it out.”
He stroked a hand up the slim, graceful line of her back. “That never helps.”
“No. But I can’t let Micah see me fall apart.” Another heavy sigh came from her.
“I’m not Micah.”
“No.”
They lapsed into silence for a few more minutes, her head on his chest. She showed no desire to move and he had no desire to move her.
Softly she asked, “You ever had the feeling you’re living under a bad star? Like you’re cursed or something?”
He looked at her, saw the strain on her pale, tired face. Tears still lingered and he brushed them away. “I’ve had that feeling a few times. Most people probably have.”
Her gaze swung up to his.
“Everybody goes through hard times.” He grimaced and added, “Although I can’t think of anybody who has had anything quite
“I’m really tired,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. “I think I’m going to go—”
“Hey.”
Noah’s hands came over her shoulders and she tried to jerk away, but those strong, beautiful hands were pretty insistent. “Trinity, come on,” he murmured.
The compassion in his voice all but broke her.
A sob rose in her throat and she shoved her fist against her lips to muffle it. Micah could come outside at any moment. She couldn’t cry. Not yet.
“Don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t. Not here, not now—”
“If not here, not now … then when? Hiding from it doesn’t make it better,” he murmured. He hooked an arm around her neck, drawing her close.
Unable to fight it, she sank against him. The solid, warm wall of his chest pressed against her cheek and she tried to swallow the sobs, the screams, as they clawed up her throat. She’d just let him hold her a minute. That would help, right?
He rested his hand on her nape.
“I’m almost positive when I go home,” he said, his voice low and soft, “that I’m going to freak out. I don’t know if us guys are supposed to do that. But I don’t care. That’s what I want to do.”
A hiccup escaped her.
“I keep seeing it and part of my mind is telling me that it wasn’t real—some sort of weird trick. But the rest of me—”
The sobs ripped out of her, and in the next moment Noah had her curled up in his lap.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips pressed against her temple. “That’s what you need to do. Get it out now.”
It had been manipulative and he knew it, the way he’d nudged her into crying. Maybe he should feel bad. But Noah suspected she was so used to hiding her emotions from everything and everybody—including herself—if she didn’t get it out now, she’d just keep hiding from it. The horror of what they’d both seen wasn’t the sort of thing that needed to be hid from.
Hiding never helped. He knew that from experience.
He had the worst feeling that she would have gone up to her room, pulled the blankets over her head and refused to let herself cry, even up there, for fear of scaring Micah.
As her body trembled, he brushed her hair back from her face. Every sob was like a hook in his heart, tearing and clawing through the flesh and ripping deep gouges into him. Yet he almost welcomed the pain.
She’d gotten to him, almost from the first, so it wasn’t a surprise that her pain left him gutted. He just wanted to take that horror away, make it all disappear.
Since he couldn’t, he just held her in his arms and kept the swing rocking.
Long moments passed before those deep, wrenching sobs passed.
The night had gone quiet around them before she spoke.
“You did that on purpose.” Her voice was raw and hoarse.
He blew out a breath and then looked down to meet her gaze. She wasn’t looking at him, though. Just staring off into the night. “I did. Should I apologize?”
“I haven’t decided. I planned on crawling into the bed and just trying to block it out.”
He stroked a hand up the slim, graceful line of her back. “That never helps.”
“No. But I can’t let Micah see me fall apart.” Another heavy sigh came from her.
“I’m not Micah.”
“No.”
They lapsed into silence for a few more minutes, her head on his chest. She showed no desire to move and he had no desire to move her.
Softly she asked, “You ever had the feeling you’re living under a bad star? Like you’re cursed or something?”
He looked at her, saw the strain on her pale, tired face. Tears still lingered and he brushed them away. “I’ve had that feeling a few times. Most people probably have.”
Her gaze swung up to his.
“Everybody goes through hard times.” He grimaced and added, “Although I can’t think of anybody who has had anything quite
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