Page 75 of Fragile Sanctuary

Every inhale felt like breathing fire. Flames scalded my throat and lungs. It was torture just to stay alive. That’s what it had become.

“I don’t think I’m as strong as you,” I rasped.

Rho stared hard at me, not looking away in the face of my weakness. “Everyone has their own path to get there. Yours doesn’t have to look like mine. You just can’t stop walking it.”

Blood roared in my ears. I hadn’t let myself remember Greta. Because I was scared shitless that if I let myself remember the pain of losing her, of being responsible for her death, it would swallow me whole. I only let myself have tiny glimpses of her. It was all I could handle.

“You’re not alone, Anson. Plenty of people would keep you company on the path if you asked. Me included.”

Hell.She slayed me. That simple, bold kindness. So unafraid.

I opened my mouth, unsure what would come out of it, and then the kitchen timer went off.

This time, it was Rho who cursed, a creative one that somehow managed to be both sunshiny and bold, just like she was.

She climbed to her feet and crossed to the oven. Grabbing two mitts, she pulled out something that looked like a heart attack in a baking dish and smelled even better.

“Holy hell,” I muttered.

Rho grinned. “No sense in wasting a meal on bad food. Make it count.”

I was starting to realize that Rho lived every part of her life that way—not wasting a single moment.

I pushed to my feet. “What can I do?”

“Plates and drinks, please.”

I circled the island and crossed to the cabinet that housed the plates. Rho bent, pulling out what looked like baked chicken, but I barely noticed the food. My eyes slid to her ass like it had its own gravitational pull. Her hips swayed from side to side as if moving to her own internal beat.

Images flashed in my mind that I had no right to. Fingers biting into her hips as I took her from behind. Her head tipped back, lips parted, begging for more.

“Anson?”

I jerked out of my lust-fueled stroke. “Sorry. Spaced.” I quickly handed her the plates.

Rho frowned at me, then bit her lip. I wanted to nip it with my teeth. Know what it was like to taste her on my tongue, all sunshine and recklessness.

Opening the fridge, I stilled. There, on the top shelf, were six ginger beers. I didn’t say a word; simply took one and let the kindness and knowing burrow into me. “Soda or beer?” I croaked.

“Coke, please,” she called back.

I tried to get it together as I straightened, but dinner was an exercise in temptation. Every sound Rho made as she ate, every flick of her tongue to catch an invisible crumb, the way her lips closed around her goddamn fork. By the time I helped her clean up, I had a case of blue balls that would take me weeks to recover from.

Rho wrung her hands as she followed me to the door, an invisible energy almost making her vibrate. I slowed, taking her in. Rho always had vitality running through her, but this was something different. I let that other piece of my brain slide into place.

Breaths shallow and quick. Gaze darting in quick movements. Pulse thrumming. Worrying the inside of her cheek.

Damn it all to blue-balled hell.

She was nervous. Not some fighting attraction nerves, butfearnerves. Of course, she was. Someone had set fire to her house and all but threatened to burn her with it.

One call to Shep, and he’d be over. I’d just have to explain why the hell I was having dinner with his sister. But as I studied the woman opposite me, I knew she’d just send him away. Not because she was embarrassed to be scared but because she didn’t want her family to worry.

I cleared my throat. “Why don’t I stay on your couch tonight?”

Rho’s gaze jerked to me. “What?”

“Give it a night to make sure the new security system’s working like it should. Just to be on the safe side.”

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