Page 57 of Forsaking All Others

“Holly,” I croak.

She kicks off her pants and shrugs out of her shirt, pulling her arms roughly from the sleeves. Then, when there is nothing left but her bra and a pair of panties, she meets my gaze. A tear slips from the corner of her eye as she spreads her arms wide.

“This is what you wanted right?” she sneers, clenching her teeth. “Took Colt out of the picture, Maverick. Left Theo without a father. Don’t waste it. His death should count for something.”

That one lone tear bleeds into more and soon they’re streaming endlessly down her cheeks. Her body shudders as another anguished sob escapes her body and I push myself out of the chair. Shrugging my kutte off, I drape it around her shoulders. She tries to push me away, but my arms tighten around her. She goes lax against my chest as she cries, and I just hold her.

“Let it out, baby,” I murmur against her hair.

The pain.

The hate.

Release it.

She gives it to me until the well runs dry, then she pushes at my chest and lifts her eyes to mine.

“You said it was your fault,” she rasps.

I nod.

“I did.” I swallow and bring my hands to her face. My thumbs wipe at her tears as her eyes plead with mine.

“You took the choice from me,” she whispers, and I swallow hard. “You took him from me.” I unwind my arms from her body and take a step back. “You took him from my boy,” she cries, pushing her arms through my kutte. She hugs the leather to her body and stares at me.

Too much.

Too fucking much.

My gaze lowers.

“That love you have with Tara, that bond you have with Shep—Theo will never have that.”

I lift my chin, my eyes sliding back to her.

So much pain.

So much hate.

“I’ll give it to him,” I declare hoarsely.

“You’ll give it to him,” she repeats.

I nod.

“Give him everything,” I murmur, emotion thick. Words true. “All the pieces Shep and Tara get, he gets now.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” she croaks.

“No, it doesn’t,” I agree.

But it’s all I got, and it would be my honor to help her raise that boy. I don’t tell her that, though. Some things are better left unsaid, and actions speak louder than words.

The silence stretches between us and the tears stop rolling down her cheeks. I bend at the knees and pick up the clothes strewn across the floor.

“Maverick,” she calls.

I raise my head, my eyes locking with hers.

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