Page 27 of By Your Side
She looked at the tea, then slowly turned her head toward me.
“I almost lost her tonight.”
“You didn’t.”
“I could have.” Her voice cracked. “She was out there and scared, and I wasn’t there and—” Her mouth trembled, and she pressed the mug to her lips like it could stop the horrible thoughts I knew were rushing through her mind.
I wanted to tell her about the rusted truck I’d spotted following Briar earlier, warn her just in case, but even thinking about it made my chest tighten. This wasn’t the moment—she was barely holding it together, and the last thing she needed was another worry piled onto everything else. No, I’d keep it to myself for now, stay vigilant, and do whatever I had to so Paige and her kids stayed safe. If it came down to it, I'd put myself between them and anything that tried to get close, no questions asked. She didn’t have to know all the details; she just had to know I’d do anything for them.
I set my mug on the coffee table and reached for her, opening my arms and hoping she’d come to me. I had no idea what to say to her; this was all I could think to do.
She didn’t hesitate; she set her mug next to mine and let me pull her into my side. Her forehead rested against my shoulder. Her breath hitched once. Then again. And finally, she let it out.
I didn’t say anything. I just held her, heart pounding in rhythm with hers, and thought that if this were all she ever let me give her, I’d still give it gladly. I’d give her anything.
She didn’t move for a long time. Just breathed against me, silent and heavy and warm as she cried. I didn’t push her to talk. Didn’t say any of the thousand things in my head.
Eventually, she murmured, “I used to be really good at this.”
I glanced down, resisting the urge to kiss the top of her head. “At what?” I murmured.
“Being strong. Holding it all together.” She gave a biting, bitter laugh. “Now I’m out here crying into your shoulder like we’re starring in some kind of Lifetime movie.”
“You’re allowed to fall apart.”
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, eyes still shining. “Not really. Not when they’re looking at me like I’m the only thing holding their whole world up.”
“You are,” I said, voice quiet. “But that doesn’t mean you have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ve got you. Always Paige. I hope you know that.”
Her eyes didn’t leave mine.
There was something raw there—wounded, yes—but also tired. So tired.
“I used to think if I just kept doing the right thing, eventually the universe would let up. Like there was some kind of finish line where I’d finally earned a little bit of peace.”
I nodded slowly. “I think a lot of people believe that. That goodness is supposed to equal safety.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “And then Eli blew up our lives.” Her voice dropped. “He told me once I was too much. Too intense. Too everything.”
The desire to find him and hurt him as much as he’d hurt his family was strong. “You’re not too much. You’re perfect. You are everything, Paige, and it’s never too much.”
“Yeah, well. I believed him.”
I wanted to reach for her hand, but I didn’t. I kept still. She could come to me if she wanted.
“He made me feel like I had to shrink. Like the only way to be lovable was to need nothing.”
“That’s not love.”
“I don’t want my kids to feel that way. I want them to come to me, to need me, to know I’ll be there no matter what. Why didn’t she come to me?”
“She was scared. She loves you, Paige. She’s just a kid. Kids do stupid shit sometimes. Remember all the dumb stuff we used to think?”
“Okay. That makes sense. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the tentative sounds of the world outside, the rain barely tapping at the window, the wind whispering through the trees.
I watched her, not daring to speak, deciding to let her fill the silence if she wanted to. My fingers flexed restlessly on my knee, a silent offering for her to hold onto.
