Page 221 of The Night Shift
Because I do. I always do. Everyone I touch turns into collateral damage. It’s a pattern at this point.
Aanya.
Theo.
Camille.
April. Parker. Even his fucking cat.
I’m like a walking black hole. Everything I touch turns to death and hurt and ruin. I don’t want to hurt Theo any more than I already have.
He lifts me with one arm. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively. He doesn’t let go. Not once. Just holds me steady like he’s not afraid of any sharp edge I might have. He doesn’t break the hug even for a second. Doesn’t loosen his grip. Just holds me tight and close against his chest. Like I’m something precious instead of poisonous. It feels odd and unfamiliar in the way safety is to someone who’s never known it.
Something inside me, some old splintered, aching thing, goes quiet. Not gone. Not healed. Just…not hurting as much anymore.
How?
My arms loop tighter around his neck, my cheek pressing into the curve of his shoulder, and I just let go. Of the mask. Of the tension. Of all the violence curling and festering under my skin. Of everything.
Because for the first time in years, I don’t feel the need to hold myself together. I feel like a wave crashing into its shore. I want to stay like this forever. If not forever, then only for a few more minutes.
Tears sting at the backs of my eyes, sharp and uninvited. I blink hard.
Theo presses a kiss into my hair.
I hug him tighter, praying that even though I don’t say it … he hears it.Thank you.
Chapter 41
Theo
Three hours later
By the time we finish dinner and get some much-needed ice cream, it’s almost midnight. I pull up to her building and brake just below the curb.
“Thanks for tonight,” I glance at her. “For coming out with me. I appreciate it.”
Holly’s been quiet for most of tonight, so I don’t really expect her to respond now.
The overhead streetlight catches in her hair, gilding it in gold, making her look divine and untouchable. She nods and unbuckles her seatbelt, but just as she’s about to reach for the door, I catch her wrist and tug back a little desperately.
Her breath hitches.
She turns back and her eyes fall to the spot where my fingers touch her skin.
“November fourteenth, seven-forty-five p.m.,” I say.
Holly frowns, her amber eyes meeting mine. “What?”
“You were wearing a long green dress and a pair of gold heels. Your nails were painted a deep shade of green. Your hair waspulled back into a ponytail, and you were introducing yourself to some guy from the oncology department —”
“Theo, what the hell are you talking about?”
“The first time I saw you. Our internship mixer.”
Her eyes brighten in surprise. “You…remember the exact time?”
“Holly, I remember the exact weather forecast.”
