Page 189 of Break the Ice
I laugh at Samson’s well-timed snort.
“Why don’t you come to the park with us later?” Auguste says, clipping the leash to Samson’s collar. “Let him run some energy off.”
“Sure,” I hedge.
My plan for tonight was to spend as much time with Elijah and Jayden as I can before they leave tomorrow.
Elijah’s arm slides around my waist, tugging me close as Samson drags Auguste toward the door. “We’ll walk with you,” he tells him. “Make sure Fin gets used to him.”
By the time they leave, and Scott follows with promises of only being a phone call away if I have any issues with the recipes, the apartment is too quiet.
“Take a walk with me,” he says.
I turn, frowning. “You just got back from training. You should rest.”
His mouth curves, tired but determined. “I can rest later. Right now, I want to be with you. Please, Fin.”
I want to argue. To tell him his body needs the break more than I need the air. But the way he’s looking at me—with that quiet pleading he doesn’t even know lives in his eyes—undoes me.
“Okay,” I murmur.
His smile is small but real as he tells me to grab a sweater. I end up grabbing one of his hoodies from the laundry room. Even though it’s clean, it still has a hint of his cologne.
As we walk along the promenade, the sea wind cutting through the layers of my clothes, I burrow deeper into it. Breathing in his scent while I cling to his hand.
By the time the sand crunches beneath my shoes, my chest is a hurricane. The last time I was near this much water, my brother shoved me into our pool, and his friends yanked the cover closed. Leaving me to claw at the slick plastic until Elijah dove in after me.
I still hear the slap of his feet on concrete. Still feel his arms hauling me out.
Still remember the way he wrapped me in every towel he could find while everyone else was feasting and praising The Lord.
He’s always been the safe place I run to.
But the farther we walk along the sand, my chest clamps down hard, my heart thundering against my ribs.
“I’m scared, Elijah.”
“Don’t be,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around me, steering me toward the shelter of the pier while the waves roll in like something alive and ancient and hungry.
“The water is wild. Look at it.”
“I’ve got you, Fin.” His lips brush my temple. “I’ve always got you.”
He has. Always.
Even when the Fellowship told us love had rules. Even when they called it sin and temptation, when they taught us wanting was dangerous unless it came through the elders and their cold, loveless arrangements.
Even then, Elijah loved me anyway.
Now here he is, holding me steady while the tide creeps closer, while the ghosts of scripture whisper about punishment and shame.
“I can’t breathe,” I choke out.
“You can.” He sinks down into the sand, pulling me with him until I’m tucked in his lap, his chest a wall of warmth at my back. “Close your eyes and just breathe with me, Angel.”
I do.
Slowly. Shakily. My fingers fisting in his sweater while the wind whips my hair and the salt stings my eyes.
