Page 38 of They Are Mine

Oh, baby.

I pull him closer, pressing against him, pressing my words into him.

“It’s just things,” I murmur, soft, firm, soothing. “We can replace things.”

His chest rises and falls too fast, his heartbeat hammering against mine.

“I’m just glad you were at work,” I say, shaking my head. “God knows what would’ve happened if you’d been home.”

His whole body tenses.

He exhales, long and slow.

Then, his hand finds the small of my back.

Not an accident.

Not a meaningless touch.

It’s protective. It’s deliberate.

Even now, even as he stands in the ruins of his life, he’s guiding me away.

Keeping me safe.

Oh, I love him.

I love him so much.

And I’m so glad he’s finally realized he loves me too.

The police take forever.

They move slowly, ask pointless questions, scribble notes like they actually plan to do something. They don’t realize how exhausted Noah is. They don’t see how much he’s already lost tonight. They don’t care like I do.

No one ever does.

I hold his hand, fingers laced through his, thumb stroking his skin in slow, soothing circles. He doesn’t even seem to notice, too distracted, too stunned by the destruction around him.

Poor thing. He’s overwhelmed, trying to keep up, trying to understand.

He just needs rest. He needs comfort. He needs me.

And these idiots are keeping him from all of it.

I swallow down my frustration, keep my expression soft, keep my touch gentle. Be patient. He’s already slipping into my arms. I just have to let him fall.

Then, just when I think we’re finally done here, he does something unforgivable.

He calls his sister.

My jaw tightens, but I don’t let it show. I just tilt my head, watching, listening, taking in every little detail.

I can’t hear what she says, but I know what she must be asking.

She must have suggested something ridiculous, something that makes my stomach twist, because I hear him murmur, “I have a place to go tonight.”

Tonight. And every other night.

---