Page 113 of Into These Eyes
I stare down at her hand covering mine and I uncurl my fist, turn it over and hold onto her.
“Show me,” she says as gently as the squeeze she gives me.
While she grips the hand that once held the knife buried in her mother’s chest, I reach for her and cup the back of her neck. Slowly, I brush my thumb back and forth over her jaw. Just the way I’d touched her mother. Then I look into her eyes.
And oh, God, it’s like I’m back there, living it again. I swallow hard over the rock in my throat, determined to get this over with.
“When I touched her like this, she turned her head and looked right through me, and I forgot all about the knife. Because I knew she was going. So did she … so I told her, ‘You’re safe. I’m right here. I’m with you.’ And something changed. She wasn’t lookingthroughme anymore, butintome. This … warmth filled her eyes. All the fear vanished. She knew she wasn’t alone. And then … Ifelther go. I saw it in her eyes, and I felt it in her skin. She just wasn’t there anymore.”
Jamie stares at me with those incredible eyes. While similar to her mother’s, they contain a completely different soul. I shut mine for a moment, needing to escape the intensity of the various emotions passing through her.
Through me.
“Gavin?”
I watch a tear slide down her cheek before I meet her gaze.
“How did you know?” she asks softly.
I tilt my head in confusion.
“How did you know she was going? How did you know to comfort her? To not run off for help and leave her alone in those final moments?”
I blink at her. That’s not what I expected her to ask.
“I knew … because I’d seen it only a month before. I was there, when my mother died … while I was looking into her eyes, holding her hand, wishing I could stop her drifting away.”
“Oh, Gavin.” She squeezes my hand hard. “I’m so sorry. What you went through …”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, my voice cracking over the lie.Fuck.
“It’s most definitely not okay. No lying, remember?” She releases my hand and slips off her stool. Standing between my parted legs, she wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into her, resting the side of her face against mine. It’s the most natural thing in the world to circle her waist and hold her close.
“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” I say on an unsteady breath. “I’ve never told anyone. I’ve held it inside, waiting … because it’s for you, no one else. It’s yours.”
“And yours, Gavin. Don’t you see that?”
And then I start fucking crying. All this time I thought it’d be her that needed comforting, but I’m the one falling apart. I’m the one who was there, who experienced the horror that night.
As my body shudders, she tightens her hold on me. Pressing my face into the curve of her shoulder and neck, I sink into her and lose myself. I take her compassion, her arms around me, her fingers in my hair, the tightness of her hold. I take what she offers and let it seep into my soul. Never once does she try to move away, or pat my back in a dismissive,that’s enoughgesture. She makes me feel like she doesn’t want to let me go. And that means the fucking world to me.
I should have known, should’ve seen it coming a mile away. I’ve never explored the impact of what comforting a dying, violently assaulted woman had onme. Almost immediately after Jamie’s mother slipped away, I’d been chased down and arrested. I’d buried it deep, locked it away and refused to think about it. Because I’d been waiting for the chance to tell Jamie that her mother hadn’t been alone. That the man who killed her wasn’t the last person she saw.
There’s no doubt the universe can be cruel, throwing that at me so close to my own mother’s death. Maybe, on top of everything else, it was just too much for me to cope with, so I shut it down. Or maybe my mother’s death prepared me forMatilda Evans. If I’d never witnessed that look before, I wouldn’t have known she only had moments to live. I’d have run off to get help and Jamie’s mother would have died alone.
As my body begins to relax and my mind clears, I tune in to her fingers gently massaging my scalp, the soothing circles she’s drawing on my back.
God, this woman. Her touch is so damn caring and genuine, it’s calming my heart, my whole being. I want to stay like this forever.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble against her shoulder.
“You know,” she says, still holding me, ignoring my apology, “I only ever thought of Mum’s death as being all about me and my family. Even after I found out you were innocent, I didn’t think about you finding her, what it must have been like, how it affected you. Seeing someone else die so close to your mother’s death … I’m the one who’s sorry, Gavin. I didn’t realise. I’m so selfish.”
Though I don’t want to, I pull back a little. I can’t let her believe that about herself. My hands slip to her waist, but no further. I’m not ready to break the contact yet. When she leans away just enough to look at me, I understand she isn’t ready to give it up either.
“Jamie, you’re the furthest thing from selfish I’ve ever known. You didn’t have to step up when your mother died. You could’ve acted like a typical teenager. But you put everyone’s needs before your own. Like you’re doing right now.”
Her eyes flick between mine, searching, probing. When her hands smooth over my shoulders and cup my face, I know she sees the truth there.
