Page 28 of Into These Eyes
Burying my face against his warm chest, the sobs shudder through my body, through my soul. His only response is to tighten his hold in an effort to offer more comfort.
Who is this man consoling me when he should hate me? At the very least, resent me. I can’t even comprehend what must be going through his head right now.
And here I am, destroying the elation he should be experiencing.
“I’m so sorry,” I gulp against his chest, slowly regaining control of myself. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He gently rubs my back. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”
I shake my head. “Yes, I do. So much.” Sniffing, I take a deep breath. “I don’t … I’m not usually … And now I’m ruining this … moment for you.”
“You haven’t ruined anything,” he assures me. “Christ, Jamie.Yougave me this moment. Do you have any idea how long it’sbeen since I’ve laughed? Because I literally can’t remember. I’ll never forget this. There’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be right now than here with you.”
His words steal my breath. I look up into his face, into those dark blue eyes. “Me?”
He gives me a sweet smile. “Why wouldn’t I want to share this with someone who has such integrity and strength? You just gave me the best news of my life, and here you are … after getting the worst news of yours. You have every right to cry, Jamie. Youshouldcry.”
Of course, his gentle, kind words send me whirling into uncontrollable territory again. I bury my face against his chest, my fingers fisting in his t-shirt at his back. This time, I really let loose, so grateful to have someone to hold on to.
By the time I calm down, the only sense I have of time passing is the ache in my feet and the trembling in my knees. And I notice something else then, too. He’s making slow, soft circles with his fingers at the nape of my neck.
Now that I’m not losing it, I become aware of his body pressed against mine, how tall he is, the firmness of every part of him I’m touching, and the contradiction between his strength and the tender way he’s holding me, caressing my bare skin. It’s almost as if he knows me intimately. I tell myself I’m only noticing these irrelevant things about him because I’m trying to distract myself from the new reality of my life.
Except, now that I’m quiet, I can hear his heart thudding against my ear. It’s not the slow, strong beat I expect from a physically fit, relaxed man. It’s beating fast. Much too fast.
Jolted back to reality, I uncurl my fists from his t-shirt and drop my arms to my sides. He instantly releases me. Frozen to the spot, I watch as he takes a couple of steps toward his bed, then return with a box of tissues. Grabbing a wad, I quickly wipemy eyes and give my nose a blow, completely aware that I must look utterly frightful.
Mortified, I avoid his gaze and stare at his chest, only to discover I’ve left wet patches on his t-shirt.
Reaching out, I press my fingertips to the dampness, realising too late that I’m deliberately touching him, that he’s watching me deliberately touch him.
“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling my hand back into my own space.
He gives me a grin and shrugs. “I think I’ll live.”
I grab more tissues and blot at my face, knowing it won’t do any good. “God, I’m so embarrassed,” I murmur.
“Me too,” he says in that deep, gentle voice. “So, I guess, since we both are, we cancel out each other’s embarrassment. That’s how it works, right?”
“Me too,” he says in that deep, gentle voice. “So, I guess, since we both are, we cancel out each other’s embarrassment. That’s how it works, right?”
Surprising myself, I huff out a laugh and let the tension leave my muscles. Who is this guy?
When I meet his gaze, I find that reassuring calmness I noticed during our meeting in prison. Only this time, I allow myself to sink into it.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat. “I suppose I should get go—”
“How about a drink?” he interrupts.
God, I’d just about kill for one right now. Better it be with him than alone, I suppose. “That might be nice. But just one. I have to drive home.”
He scratches the back of his head and gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I don’t have any alcohol. Not while I’m on parole. I was thinking a Coke, tea, coffee …”
“Of course. I ah … tea would be great.” Seems like I’ll have to drown in grief on my own once I get home. After I’ve told Anika. There’s still that to deal with.
As he turns on the kettle, I think about how the poor guy can’t even have a drink to celebrate, and I suddenly realise something else. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think … do your parole conditions include no contact with the victim’s family members? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“No. I was actually surprised it wasn’t on the list.” He gestures toward the table. “Take a seat.”
