Page 88 of Whispers of You
Jude shook his head as he surveyed the room. “I’m so damn sorry this happened.”
I let out a shuddering breath. “Thank you for helping us deal with the mess.”
Not only had Jude covered the window, but he’d also patched the hole in the wall.
“Of course. Chris is going to pick up some paint that matches your walls tomorrow. Before long, you won’t be able to tell that any of this happened.”
I glanced at Holt, hanging makeshift curtains over my other large window. I’d never bothered with finding anything to cover them before, but now, I guessed it was necessary. It felt as if the walls were closing in around me. I could almost hear the sound of bars clanging closed in my mind.
“Is he okay?” Jude asked quietly.
The concern in Jude’s voice had my heart clenching. I studied Holt as he made sure the curtains were secure, checking every possible vantage point. We were both rattled. We just dealt with it in different ways.
“I think so. You know Holt. He’ll try to come at this like a problem he can fix. Assessing every possible angle.”
But this wasn’t something Holt could fix.
“He loves you. It would kill him if anything happened to you,” Jude said.
“I can’t let anything happen to him either.” Some of the panic from earlier found its way back, clawing at my insides. The day’s events replayed in my mind: Holt diving for me, the window shattering, not knowing if he’d been hit.
“Nothing’s going to happen to Holt,” Jude assured me.
I watched as Holt checked the locks on the windows for what seemed like the millionth time. “I don’t want him taking my welfare on his shoulders either. I don’t want him blaming himself for every little thing that does or doesn’t happen to me.” Because that hadn’t worked out for us very well before.
Jude was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure that’s something you can control. When you care about someone, you don’t want anything to happen to them. If it does, it feels like it’s your fault—even if that isn’t true.”
He was right in so many ways. I would’ve taken that on if something had happened to Holt this afternoon. I blew out a breath. “I guess we’ll just have to make sure nothing happens to either of us, then.”
“I guess so.” Jude ruffled my hair in his familiar move. “I gotta get going, but call if you guys need anything else.”
Holt strode across the space, extending a hand. “Thanks, man. Really appreciate you doing all of this.”
I knew it meant the world to Holt. I’d seen the hurt on his face when he realized that Chris hadn’t shown. Jude had made some excuse, but I was about ready to drop-kick my friend.
“Anytime. Let me know if the cops find out anything.”
“We will.” Holt walked Jude to the door, locking it behind him.
I didn’t move. Suddenly, I was bone-tired. The kind of fatigue that had nothing to do with sleep but soul-deep weariness.
Holt moved toward me, brushing the hair from my face. “Can I make you something to eat?”
The idea of putting anything in my stomach, even my favorite Thai food, had nausea rolling through me. “I think I just want to take a shower and go to bed.” It was only nine, but I’d had enough of today.
“Okay,” he whispered into my hair. A second later, Holt was leading me to the bathroom.
He opened the door and flicked on the light. After switching on the water, he turned back to me, going for the hem of my blouse and pulling it over my head.
“What are you doing?”
Holt let the garment flutter to the floor, then leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. “Let me take care of you.”
There went that skip in my heartbeat again, the one I used to feel every day thanks to Holt Hartley—the one I’d longed for since the day he left.
“Okay.”
Holt’s fingers went to the button on my jeans, undoing it and pulling down the zipper. Each click of the metal tines sent sparks of sensation dancing across my skin.
