Page 59 of Sin of Love

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

My words stop him in the doorway. He turns, blue eyes serious and knowing.

“Not used to trusting someone, are ya? I get it. As for why, maybe I’m getting soft in my old age. Or maybe I just want to be”—he pauses, smiling slightly—“better.”

Thinking of my father, I nod. “Same.”

* * *

Halfway across the Atlantic,in a private jet owned by who the fuck knows, I’m dozing in my reclined seat when Deirdre wakes up screaming.

I’m at her side in seconds.

“Deirdre, wake up!”

“No, no, no,” she chants, head thrashing from side to side. “Please, don’t touch him. Don’t touch him—Nate! Kill you... I’ll—no! Nate, where are you?”

At first, I’m wary of touching her. You’re not supposed to mess with these kind of night terrors, right? But she can’t hear me and doesn’t stop mumbling, ranting, and crying out.

Eventually the pilot and single attendant come back to check on us. They were told to mind their own business—and seemed too awed or fearful of Liam to betray the edict—but I can’t handle the increasingly long looks of concern, like I’m the one hurting her. My heart can’t fucking take it.

So I do the only thing I can think of, gently lifting her frail body and sitting back down with her cradled in my arms. I pull a thick fleece blanket over us, close my eyes, and pray.

God, help us.

That’s it. Nice and simple. Over and over again. Help us. Please. God, help us.

And maybe someday I’ll laugh about this moment—me, a devout agnostic and borderline atheist, praying for the help of a power greater than myself.

But for now, I pray.

Within seconds, she stops shaking.

Within minutes, her breathing deepens.

My arms around her, I have nothing to catch my tears but her hair.

“I’m not afraid,” I whisper into her crown. “Your dark matches my dark.”

She doesn’t stir.

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