Page 42 of The Persistence of Thornes
I straighten and sniff it back.
Ihatecrying.
“You’re so sensitive.”My mother’s voice echoes in my mind.
For as long as I can remember, she told me I was too emotional. Too sensitive. Too tender-hearted. Justtooeverything. Eventually, I learned to shut those parts of myself off. I stopped crying years and years ago. Now, Iloathethe sensation. The weakness it brings with it.
“Halle?”
At the sound of my name in that gentle tone, my breath catches, and I spin around.
Caleb is standing in the doorway, still dressed in those gorgeous blue suit pants and fitted white shirt, though he’s shed the jacket. His head is lowered to keep from brushing the frame above him.
That tone, the genuine concern, causes the floodgates to open, and more tears fall.
I hastily swipe them away, frustrated with myself for showing him this weakness. Before I can turn away, he’s standing in front of me, cradling my face. His blue eyes are locked on mine and swimming with concern, not judgment. Not annoyance or disgust or any of the emotions that would flit across my mom’s face when I was sad.
“Can I hug you?” he asks.
Normally just the idea of being held would cause me to recoil. But in this moment, I can’t think of a single thing I want more. So I nod, maybe a little too vigorously, and he pulls me in close.
On instinct, I melt against him. He wraps his arms around me, chin resting on my head, and holds me tight.My arms hang like limp noodles at my sides, but he doesn’t let that stop him.
I sniffle, the sound muffled by his shirt, the urge to cry so strong I worry I won’t be able to keep the tears at bay any longer.
“Let it out, Hal.”
“I don’t want to ruin your shirt,” I mutter, bottom lip wobbling.
“Who cares about my shirt?” He pulls me impossibly closer, using the right amount of pressure to help regulate my system. “I have a million more.”
For some reason, that makes me giggle.
“I’m so sorry about the water,” he whispers.
“Nothing ever goes right for me. I should’ve expected this.”
He loosens his hold and ducks, meeting my eyes. “How could you have expected this? It was a freak accident, something your inspector probably should’ve caught. Not you.”
I press my lips together. “I waived the inspection in return for a price reduction.”
His shoulders sag. “Fuck.” He tugs me in tighter again.
“I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. You just wanted to put a roof over your brothers’ heads. Who can blame you for that?”
My chest warms a fraction. He gets it. I’ve only known the man for a month, and he already sees more of me than anyone ever has.
He doesn’t loosen his hold on me when he asks, “Are you ready to go?”
“No,” I answer. With a thick swallow, I nuzzle into his chest a little more firmly. I’m feeling all kinds of vulnerable, but I force myself to ask for what I want. “I want you to hug me a little longer. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, Hal. I’ve got you.”
Stepping into Caleb’s guest bedroom is the closest I’ve ever come to being in a luxury hotel suite. Every detail is beautiful in an understated way. It’s a far cry from the ratty old quilt I always sleep with—the one currently draped over my arm—and my hand-me-down furniture. I have to fight a cringe when I set my quilt down on the fluffy white duvet.
“Bathroom is there.” He points to my left as he sets the bag he insisted on carrying on the bed. “You’ll share with Seda when she’s over. Hope that’s okay.”
