Page 16 of Bitter Heat

She was trembling, but it wasn’t from the cold. Pain threatened to split her heart in two.

“Jasmine.”

When he appeared in front of her, she backed away.

“I don’t...” She swallowed hard and tried again. “I don’twant—”

Her throat closed and she dropped her head to hide her face as emotion took over. When he wrapped his arms around her, she fought him, but he ignored her struggles and drew her against his chest. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from making a sound, but her ragged breathing was far from calm. He cupped the back of her head, fingers tunneling through her damp hair as he massaged. She grabbed fistfuls of his jacket as she battled for control.

“Just breathe.”

“I-I can’t,” she whispered.

The loss she hadn’t allowed herself to feel hit her full force. When the first sob escaped, she tried to smother the sound against his body. He picked her up and carried her back to the couch as she clutched at him, battling her emotions for supremacy. He settled on the couch with her on his lap and unzipped his jacket. Her cheek landed on his broad shoulder covered in soft flannel. She shook her head as she fought the tide threatening to pull her under. A keening sound escaped. Even to her own ears, the pitiful sound was filled with heartache and despair. He made a soothing sound she had never heard him make before and pressed her face against his throat. The familiar scent of him added more turbulence to her already potent emotional cocktail.

She tried again. “I don’t want—”

“You don’t know what you want.”

“I do,” she said, her vehemence ruined by a hiccup.

“You don’t get what you want out of life. You get what you need.”

“But—”

He cupped the side of her face and pressed his thumb against her quivering lips. “Hush.”

“You can’t—”

His hand dipped beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. His mouth landed on hers, and she stopped breathing. The kiss was gentle and soothing and so unlike him. More tears slipped from her eyes. He was trying to comfort her. Did he know how many times over the years she wished he had done this? Held her on his lap and acted like he cared? Her breath hitched. He let out a soothing rumble and broke the kiss. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her wet cheek, and then her forehead.

“Stop,” she whispered.

He ran his fingers down her cheek, tracing the progress of a tear before he kissed her again. Soft, slow, and too short.

“Talk to me, Jasmine.”

They stared at one another for a long minute before she reached out. He didn’t stop her as she ran the tips of her fingers through his beard. Sorrow churned in her chest as she stroked his harsh face. Every instinct she possessed told her to keep her cards close to her chest and not let him in, but she needed to get it out. It was eating her alive.

“He had another stroke,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

Her hand dropped from his face and curled into a fist against her chest.

“He fell into a coma. The doctors didn’t think he would wake up.” Her lip trembled, and she swallowed hard. “The lawyers came in, and he… he named me as executor.”

She couldn’t finish but realized she didn’t have to when he said, “Fuck.”

“He said if that ever happened, he didn’t want to live like that, and I… I didn’t want him to suffer.” She dropped her face, so guilt-ridden she couldn’t even meet his eyes. “Maybe I should have waited a little longer. I don’t know if—”

“You respected his wishes. You made the right call. He would be proud of you.”

She swallowed hard as more tears slid down her cheeks. “I hope he knows I was there. I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“You were there. That’s all that matters.”

When she covered her face with her hands, he drew her back against him, and this time, she let him. After being ignored by her workaholic father for most of her life, she finally got one in her late twenties… and now he was gone again. The shock of not only losing her father but also being forced to make the decision whether to keep him on life support had traumatized her. Her sisters had turned their backs on her, leaving her to deal with his death and funeral by herself. She didn’t have time to grieve, not with so many things to do. Even after the funeral, she had been locked in a shell-shocked state of denial.

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