Page 137 of Saving Her

My limbs throb with the urge to grab her. Shake her.

She needs to let go. To cry. Not only for Abi, but the parts of her own life that died. Why can’t she see that?

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I calmly demand.

“That it’s not true. That Abi didn’t kill herself.”

“How do you know?”

“I spoke to my sisters and they agree.” She turns to me, her eyes filled with conviction. “They said she’d never do this. That she was excited to get back to her family.”

“Okay. So maybe her death was an accident.” I reach for her again, her violent shrug away stinging my pride. “But she’s gone, shorty. That part you can’t deny.”

She winces. “Don’t.”

“I know you loved her. You two went through hell together. She was everything to you, which means there’s no way you can get around grieving for her. No matter how hard you try.”

She retreats a step. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I can’t imagine how hard it is to lose her. You left Greece thinking the nightmare would end, only to have it follow.” I inch closer as she backtracks. “And you’re too scared to let down your guard to start healing. You’re clinging to what you know—the sterility, the anger. You think you need to act the same way you did with Luther in an effort to protect yourself. To fight when you should crumple.”

Her lips part as if in shock before a mask of annoyance settles into place. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry, shorty, but I can’t. It’s time for this to sink in. For you to acknowledge what you went through. For you to break down the walls you’ve built out of fear. There’s no peace in denial.”

“There’s no peace?” she asks. “What peace could I possibly obtain, Luca? What peace have I ever had?”

“Peace is on the other side of acceptance. You need to face what’s happened.”

“I said, ‘stop.’” She makes for the door.

I follow, unable to let this go. “We’re not running anymore. Maybe it was suicide. Maybe it was an accident. It doesn’t change the fact she’s gone.”

“Stop.” She plants her feet and swings around to shove at my chest. “Stop it.” Her eyes blink with unshed tears. “Just stop.”

Her agony punches into me, my words injuring us both. But she’s so close. The slightest crack forms in her defenses. “Luther’s not here anymore. You don’t have to keep fighting. Abi’s dead, shorty. It’s time to grieve.”

The tears build, her dark eyes an endless pool of heartache bursting to break free. She shoves me again and again, harder and harder.

“She’s not suffering anymore. She’s free.” I snatch her wrists. Tight. They tremor under my grasp.

Those eyes flare, her panic and fear slam into me.

But I can’t let her go.

After all the days of sitting on my ass and letting her find her own way, it’s clear I should’ve acted differently. She needs to be pushed to face reality. I feel it deep down in my bones. She can’t move on until she acknowledges her past. Until she lets go of the hold Luther had on her.

“You’re safe,” I murmur. “He’s not here anymore. He can’t hurt you.”

“Don’t do this.” She thrashes, attempting to break my hold. “Let me go.”

I pull her into my chest, releasing her wrists to wrap my arms around her back. “I’m not hurting you. I never will.” I cage her against me as she bucks and pushes, doing her best to escape.

“Stop,” she screams. Her loose hair whips my face. Her knee jabs me in the thigh.

She’s a wild cat. Sharp movements. Feral ferocity.

I hope I’m not fucking this up.

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