Page 30 of Diesel
The words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, pulling her back from the edge.
Her lips trembled.“I thought I was gonna watch him die.I thought...”
Diesel didn’t let her finish.He pulled her into his chest, strong arms wrapping around her, anchoring her as her tears finally broke loose.
“Shh.I’ve got you now,” he told her.
She sobbed quietly against him, fisting her hands in the back of his shirt.He just held her, rocking her gently, pressing kisses into her hair.
“Not your fault, Soph.You did what you had to do.You were brave as hell.But it’s done now.No more running alone, you hear me?”
She nodded into his chest, too wrung out to speak.After long moments, her sobs eased into shaky breaths.Diesel leaned back enough to look at her, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.
“You need a shower, sweetheart,” he murmured.“You’ve been through hell.Let me help.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the tender look in his eyes silenced her.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Diesel led her to the bathroom, flicking on the warm light.He started the shower, adjusting the temperature, then turned back to her.
His fingers worked the buttons of her blouse with infinite care, never rushing her, never letting his gaze stray from her face.
“You stop me anytime you need to,” he said, voice low.
“I won’t,” she whispered.“I want you here.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he nodded.
When she stood bare before him, vulnerability washed through her, but Diesel simply cupped her face, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.He then helped her step into the warm spray.
He didn’t join her, not yet.He just stood nearby, sleeves rolled up, ready if she needed him.The water worked its magic, loosening the knots in her muscles, washing away the blood and grime of the morning.
When she stepped out wrapped in a towel, Diesel was waiting with one of his soft flannels and a pair of her leggings.
She smiled faintly through the exhaustion.“You really do think of everything,” she said.
“I think of you,” he said simply.
Her heart twisted at the quiet sincerity in his voice.He helped her dress, drying her hair with a towel when her arms trembled too much to do it herself.Then he scooped her up again, gentle but unyielding.Diesel then carried her to the couch.
“Diesel—” Sophie began.
“Shh.You sit.I’ll fix us something to eat,” Diesel offered.
She didn’t argue.Couldn’t.She was too wrung out, too raw, and deep down she liked letting him take care of her, just this once.
From the kitchen, she heard cupboards opening, the clink of pans.Ten minutes later, Diesel returned with a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast, a mug of tea steaming in his other hand.He set them down and crouched before her, tilting her chin up.
“You eat first, sweetheart.We’ll talk after,” he said.
Her throat burned.No one had ever taken care of her like this, like she was precious.Worth protecting.She obeyed, slow bites at first, then faster as warmth spread through her.
Diesel watched her the whole time, eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite name.When she finished, he took the plate away and came back with the tea.
She sipped it, hands still trembling faintly.Diesel sat beside her then, pulling her gently into his side.She curled against him without hesitation, her head resting over his heart.
“You scared the shit outta me today,” he murmured against her hair.
