Page 137 of Lawless

Men who don’t want me hurting, suffering.

Men who give me everything I’ve ever wanted.

My sobs get louder as I cling to him, desperately trying to get us even closer, despite knowing that it’s impossible.

He buries one hand into my wet hair, holding my head gently while the other—the one with the bandage on—slowly rubs up and down my back.

The only person who’s ever held me like he meant it before was Mav, but with the way he held back, it was never this intimate.

I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt closer to another person as I do right now.

While my own pain might be unbearable, it seems I still have a little space to feel more because JD’s is palpable.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the warmth of his neck.

Unlike before I left, his jaw is covered in more than just a few days’ stubble. It’s clear that he hasn’t been taking care of himself. However, not shaving barely scratches the surface of what he’s been through by the sounds of it.

“Little dove,” he chokes out, his voice rougher and more emotional than I’ve ever heard.

I try to lift my head from his neck, but he doesn’t let me up.

I want to argue, but also, I’m more than happy to just snuggle here and soak up his warmth.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Sliding my hand from his neck, I move it down the length of his arm until my fingers brush the edge of his bandage.

He sucks in a breath, but when I gently pull his arm from my back and lift my head from his neck, he allows it.

Sitting up, I hold his arm between us, my fingers dancing over the fabric wrapped around his wound.

“Dove,” he whispers so quietly, I question as to whether he actually said it or not.

Sucking in a breath, I lift my eyes from the bandage, but it soon rushes from my lungs when I find his eyes and the tear tracks down his cheeks.

“Julian?” I breathe, cupping his rough face in both my hands and leaning closer.

My brow touches his, our noses pressing together.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his watery eyes holding mine.

Shifting my thumb, I press it against his lips, stopping him.

“Never,” I tell him. “Not with me.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything for the longest time.

We stay exactly as we are, our heads touching, our breath mingling, and our darkness melding. Maybe together we’ll be strong enough to fight it.

It’s more than obvious that we can’t do it alone.

“I warned you,” he eventually confesses. “I said that you wouldn’t like this side of me.”

“Julian,” I whisper, rolling my head against his. “There isn’t a side of you that I don’t like. It’s not possible.”

He gasps, his lips parting to allow the air in, and I make the most of it.

I’ve no idea if it’s the right thing to do, but losing myself in someone else is the only way I’ve ever managed to block out all the pain. All I can hope is that I’m able to give him the kind of relief he’s offered me in the past few weeks.

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