Page 24 of Full Throttle

As the detective washed and conditioned my hair, emotions clogged my throat, and I felt the urge to cry again.

“It’s okay to cry,” Amara whispered. “Your ribs weren’t the only reason why I told you that.” Her hands came to my shoulders as she turned me around, my hair finally clean. “I’ve kissed death on the cheek a thousand times. It’s scary shit but know this: you aren’t alone. We have you, Nikki.”

A broke sob left me as it all came crashing down.

The reality of everything.

The wreck.

The coldness from Cain.

The years I’d wasted chasing him.

The moment he shattered my soul.

The hospital.

The pain.

All of it.

“If you crumble, we’ll be here to pick up the pieces,” she whispered.

My knees gave out then. I braced for the title floor, but Amara was quicker than gravity. She caught me under my arms and, in the next second, I was leaning against her, head to chest, my body shaking as the panic set in. Her arms came around me, and I felt her cheek against the top of my head, the water coming down on both of us now. “Let it out,” she cooed, holding me.

Amara was a stranger to me. I didn’t know her, and she didn’t know me, yet here we were.

A soft knock at the bathroom door sounded, followed by Mina’s smooth voice. “You girls still in here?”

“You want me to answer?” Amara asked.

I found myself shaking my head. “Please don’t move.”

“I’m going to call out to her, okay?”

I didn’t say anything, another sob leaving me as everything continued to crash into my soul like waves during a storm, relentless and unforgiving.

“Yeah, we’re in here,” Amara called. “Wait—do you mind grabbing some more clothes?”

“More clothes?” Mina asked.

“Yeah, we—”

The bathroom door opened, and Mina stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the door, her eyes going directly to Amara and me on the shower floor. “We need an extra set of clothes,” Amara finally finished as the waves inside me began to let up.

I felt like I could breathe again. Kind of, anyway.

Mina’s face was filled with pity as she rushed over to us, squatting down on her haunches. “Oh, sweet girl,” she murmured, her eyes scanning my face as she reached up and shut the shower off.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t—I’m sorry,” I rushed out, sitting up.

Amara’s arms loosened, and I turned to look at her. Her ponytail was soaking wet, as was her face, her mascara running slightly. Shaking my head, I looked down to the tile. “I’m so sorry. I don’t—I don’t—I normally don’t—”

Warm, soft fingers slid underneath my chin, latching onto it gently, and my head was lifted and turned towards Mina. “Nothing about this normal, Nikki. No one is blaming you for your tears.”

Amara hummed in agreement. “She’s right.”

Mina dropped her hand. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she chanted. She bent her head to mine. “You’re safe. We got you.”

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