Page 97 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “What’s making her like that?” I point my finger upward.
“I can’t tell you.”
“You don’t know?” I ask. What the hell am I paying her for?
Not even an eyelash flickers. It’s as though she’s been expecting me to react like this. “I said I can’t tell you. Privacy laws.”
“Bullshit!” I slam my fist on the wall. I’m sick of people saying they can’t tell me. This isn’t some trivial issue—this is Iris. I didn’t make all this damned money or gain this much influence and power so I could just sit on the sidelines and watch her suffer. “How the hell am I going to help her if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?”
Dr. Young continues calmly, as though I hadn’t just fractured my plaster. “Feed her something easy to digest. Don’t probe about what’s wrong or try to fix it. Men always do that, and this isn’t something you can fix.”
“What do you mean it’s something I can’t fix?” I manage to spit out through the thick lump of fear in my throat.
“Exactly that. The only thing you can do is be kind to her. And fill this prescription.”
I eye the paper. “What is it?”
“A sedative. She said she didn’t want any, but if she becomes too agitated, you might want to offer it to her. If anything else happens, call me, regardless of the time.”
She leaves, and Bobbi takes the prescription. “I’ll get this filled. Why don’t you go to Iris? She needs you,” she says quietly, and leaves.
Finally alone in the living room, I think about what the doctor said. That I can’t fix it—I can only be kind to Iris. Like that’s even a question.
I go up to our bedroom, then stop at the door, suddenly nervous. What if this is the kind of wedge that I can’t do anything about? I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s always been so brave—such a fighter—that I didn’t realize she could break.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself, doing my best to push my nerves aside. She’s here. She’s alive. I can work with that. Everything else can be fixed.
I knock quietly, open the door and walk inside. Iris is perched on the edge of the mattress, her shoulders rounded and hunched, her head low. Her elbows rest on her knees, her hands loosely linked together.
She looks defeated and wan, all the vitality gone. I sit next to her and pull her toward me. As I wrap my arm around her, I feel her against my side, the slight weight. I hold her hands in mine. They’re usually so warm and limber. But now, they’re cool and stiff.
Her body tenses, and she clenches her hands around mine until her nails whiten. I can sense the muscles in her jaw working. Her chest starts heaving…slightly at first, then more. Sobs tear from her throat, and she presses a fist against her breastbone.
What could be causing such torment? The sight of her hurting is unbearable. I thought—in my utter arrogance—that all that I had…money, power, influence…would protect her. But there’s nothing any of it can do to lessen her anguish. The same dark helplessness that I felt watching Katherine die threatens to overwhelm me. But somehow I hang on to my sanity and composure. I can’t break, not when Iris needs me to be strong. “It’s okay to cry,” I tell her softly, kissing her cold fingers. “Let it out.”
“I hate making noise. I don’t want people to know I’m crying.”
Maybe she doesn’t realize what she just said, but I do, and cold fear and rejection slice through me. I hate that she’s guarding herself so fiercely with me, when just this morning, she was so open and sparkling. Doesn’t she know I’m always on her side? “It’s just me here, Iris.” My voice is rough, and it cracks as I add, “It’s okay.”
She shudders against me. I don’t know how long she sobs quietly. The seconds grow into minutes…and longer. I wish I could do something for her. I wish I could figure out what exactly happened to trigger this so I could prevent it in the future.
Finally, her tears subside. She wipes her face with the backs of her hands. “What’s the limit?” she asks, her voice thick and wet.
“What limit?” I keep my tone soft and safe, just like Dr. Young said.
“When do you decide you don’t love me anymore?”
My hold on her tightens. I hate the doubt, the anxiety. It shocks me to realize we share a fear of losing the other’s love. I deserve to lose her love. I’ve never been lovable…a screwup. Everything I’ve done has been an attempt to make up for the fact that deep inside, at my core, I’m not really worthy of her. But Iris… She’s warmth, light—all that is beautiful and wonderful and special. “Never. I’ll never stop loving you.”
She turns, pulling away a little, so she can face me fully. Tears glisten in her eyes, her cheeks. Her nose is red, her mouth white. “What if there are things in my past that are ugly and wrong? What if I’m a bad person?”
I cradle her head in my hand with infinite care, wishing with all my heart I could communicate how precious she is. I’m the one with the ugly, fucked-up past, not her. “You could never be a bad person. Every time I look at you, I wonder how I ended up with such a gentle soul, and I want to be the kind of man who deserves you.”
Her eyes are still haunted. I’m not reaching her.
Desperation makes me talk faster. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. If someone asked me to choose between you and everything else I had, I’d choose you.”
“You shouldn’t.” Her voice breaks.
