Page 35 of His to Save

“Please sit with me.” I reach out and grab Atlas’s wrist before I can think better of it.

He glances down at where my hand is gripping him, and I swear I see a grin tugging at his lips. “I told you I wouldn’t leave your side.”

I expect him to free himself from my hold once we’re seated, but instead he wriggles his wrist until he can slide my hand into his, curling his fingers around my palm.

We’re holding hands.

He’s. Holding. My. Hand.

It’s so totally innocent, and yet my heart is racing like I just ran the fastest mile. I feel light and giddy, nervous and secure, hopeful and so very naive.

Get it together, Nora. He’s holding your hand to be nice.

Honestly, I don’t care why he’s doing it. I’ve been so starved of kind and positive touches that I can’t help but relish the way his warm skin feels against mine.

Ellis clears his throat, effectively bringing me back down to earth.

“Glad you’re here, Nora,” he says.

“Thank you for letting me stay. Atlas said you needed to ask me some questions.”

“I do, and I’m going to record our conversation—it’s standard protocol, but Nora, please know, you’re not in any trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you understand?”

I nod, because I do. Sometimes my stupid brain gets the better of me and tricks me into thinking it’s my fault Rand hurt me, but Ellis is right. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“Okay, great.” He slides out his phone and taps around on the screen before looking back toward me. “Please state your full name, date of birth, address, and phone number.”

“Nora Leigh Morgan,” I say, followed by my birthdate. “I’m, um, not sure what to say for my address. I guess I don’t really have one right now. Or a phone number. Sorry.”

Ellis nods like my answer is completely normal. “No worries. How do you know Randall Wallace?”

“My mom, she married him.”

“And where is she now?”

Tears sting my eyes but I press on, knowing he’s not asking to be cruel. “She’s dead.”

“How long ago did she pass?”

His questions seem endless—did I ever see Rand hurt my mother, did he hurt me, when did it start, how long, how often.

I answer every single one to the best of my ability, even the ones that hurt.When did he first sexually assault you? How far along are you? Did he know about the baby?

Atlas looks as tormented as I feel by the time we finish, and I can’t help but feel bad for bringing all my issues to his doorstep.

But through it all, he never once let go of my hand. He held onto me like he was my anchor, keeping me moored in place despite the rolling waves.

“I just have one last question,” Ellis says, leaning forward in his seat. “Do you have any idea as to where Rand might be?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for talking to me. If I think of any other questions or need to follow up on anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Is…is that all?”

“One more thing,” Ellis says, ducking his head. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to photocopy your diary and also document any current injuries.”

“That’s, yeah, okay. Except I don’t have my diary.”

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