Holt wrapped an arm around me as I shivered. The heat from the tea seeped into my hands, but even with that and Holt’s body pressed against me, I couldn’t get warm. There was a coldness in me that no outside force could remedy.
We leaned against the back wall of the viewing room on the other side of interrogation. I couldn’t take my eyes off the person sitting at the table. The boy. Because Joe Sullivan was all of seventeen—too young to be sitting there. Too young to be wrapped up in this. Too young to have caused such suffering.
But I knew that wasn’t true. I wished it were. I wanted to believe that kids didn’t have to live with this as a reality. But they did. I wished that humans weren’t capable of the kind of cruelty necessary to take a life for no good reason—but some of us were.
“I didn’t want it to be him,” I said quietly.
Holt pulled me tighter against him. “I know, Cricket.”
I didn’t care that my shoulder and ribs throbbed; I needed the pressure to know that Holt was here. That we were okay. Those minutes in my bedroom might as well have been forever—an eternity where I’d felt what it might be like to live a life without Holt. I’d already gone ten years without him. I wasn’t going a second longer.
I turned into him, pressing my face to his chest and breathing him in. “Tell me you’re here.”
Holt’s lips ghosted over my hair. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”
The door to the viewing room opened, and I forced myself to straighten. A handful of officers piled into the room. I stiffened as Amber entered the space in her street clothes. She sent a self-satisfied smirk in my direction, but it quickly slipped from her face.
I glanced up to see Holt glaring at her. Laying a hand against his stomach, I pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “It’s okay.”
Nash moved around Clint and Amber, not bothering to hide his annoyance at Amber. “Law’s gonna be pissed you’re here.”
Amber stiffened. “Seeing as I was the one who was right all along, I highly doubt that. I’m guessing I’ll get an apology from him after this.”
Nash scoffed. “Keep living in dreamland.” He moved into my space, dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head. “You holding up okay?”
“Hanging in there.” I should’ve been feeling relief. Instead, I felt ill. Even knowing all the damage Joe had likely caused, my heart ached for him.
Nash lowered his voice as he leaned closer to Holt and me. “We found a rifle in Joe’s trunk. They have to run ballistics, but so far, it’s a match to the shooting at the Petersons’.”
My stomach cramped. This was good. It meant the survivors were safe again. Holt and I were safe.
Holt trailed a hand up and down my spine. “How long will it take to run?”
“County’s rushing it to the front of the line. We’re running the handgun to see if that matches Gretchen and Mrs. McHenry. Hopefully, we’ll get a report tomorrow,” Nash said.
“Good.” Holt’s jaw was hard as he stared at Joe. There was no sympathy in his gaze, but it didn’t look like there was relief either.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Lawson stepped inside, a man in an ill-fitting suit trailing behind him. “Joe, this is your court-appointed attorney, Mr. Cushing. Your parents agreed to let us question you—”
“Don’t answer anything unless I tell you to,” the attorney said.
Joe simply scowled at them both and crossed his arms. “You can both jump off a cliff.”
Lawson sighed as he sat. “What were you doing at Wren Williams’ cabin tonight?”
“Don’t answer that,” Mr. Cushing said and then turned to Lawson. “Mr. Sullivan wasn’t even on Ms. Williams’ property.”
“But he was on private property. At the location where a shooting took place recently.”
Mr. Cushing arched a brow. “Is Mr. Sullivan under arrest for trespassing then?”
Lawson’s jaw hardened. “I can add that to the list.”
Mr. Cushing’s mouth pulled down in a frown. “That’s a fine. Not jail time. Release the boy to his parents.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’ll be holding Joe for the full seventy-two hours. Or until the ballistics come back on the handgun in his possession and the rifle we found in his trunk.”
All the color drained from Joe’s face as his gaze jumped back and forth between the two men.
“This interview is over,” Mr. Cushing said curtly. “You can hold my client, but he won’t be speaking with you. I, however, would like a word with him in private. Please clear the room and observation.”
Joe jolted at that, his gaze going to the two-way mirror. I swore those dark eyes looked right into mine as if he could tell that I was there.
A tear slid down my cheek. So many lives destroyed. And for what?
Holt rolled me into him as I burrowed under the covers. I went without protest, craving the warmth that hummed beneath his skin.
“Talk to me,” he said, lips skimming over my hair.
“Can’t get warm.”
“Cricket…” He hauled me gently on top of him so we were front-to-front. More of that warmth, that life seeped into me.
“I was so scared something would happen to you tonight.”
So scared that I would lose him.
Holt’s fingers trailed along the ridges in my spine. “I hate that I put you through that.”
“I’ve been so scared to make that final leap. So terrified that you’d leave, or something would happen.”
Holt’s hand slipped under my T-shirt, the rough pads of his fingertips sending a cascade of tingles across my skin. “Just because you haven’t said the words doesn’t mean you haven’t made the leap.”
But not saying the words was my last wall of protection. The thing I thought would save me if everything fell apart. Only it wouldn’t. Grae’s voice danced in my mind, talking about missing out because I was too scared of the pain that might come. But that pain would come no matter what. And living my life in half measures would only heap regret on top of it.
I sat up, straddling Holt, my oversized T-shirt pooling around me. I stared down at the man who I’d known in every incarnation growing up. I’d worried there would be too much time lost between us now—that I wouldn’t know him anymore. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I would always know Holt. Sometimes, better than I knew myself. Because I knew his soul. The very core of him. The trappings of that soul might change, but the soul itself never would.
Pressing a palm to his chest, over his heart, I let down the last of my walls. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. Not for a single breath.”
Holt stilled beneath me. Not breathing. I swore his heartbeat even halted.
He rolled me to my back in a flash, hovering over me. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“The next part,” he growled, his words sending vibrations across my face.
“I never stopped loving you.”
Emotion filled Holt’s eyes, the dark blue turning to a color I couldn’t identify. A single tear slipped free and landed on my cheek. “Never thought I’d hear those words again.”
I reached up, ghosting a hand over his face. I relished the feel of his stubble prickling my palm. His jaw beneath my fingers. Reveled in the knowledge that this man was mine and I was his. “Nothing could keep me from loving you.”
Not hurt or logic or an entire world separating us. We were meant to be. We would always find a way back to each other.
Holt dipped his head, his lips a breath from mine. “Are you with me?”
“I’m always with you.”
My hands came around his shoulders, skimming over smooth skin until I reached the worn flannel pajama bottoms he wore. My fingers hooked in the band.
“Wren, you have to be hurting.”
“The only thing that will hurt me is if I can’t be with you right now.”
It was the truth. I needed him more than oxygen. Had to cement this forever with flesh and bone.
Holt pressed his forehead against mine. “Promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”
“I promise.” But I knew it wouldn’t be. Because it was Holt and me.
His hand slipped over my hip, his eyes flaring. “No panties?”
I grinned up at him. “Seemed like a waste.”
He chuckled.
I lifted a hand to his throat. “Do it again.”
Emotion filled Holt’s gaze, but he did as I asked. I closed my eyes and let the sound wash over me. I’d never take a single chuckle for granted.
“Wren.”
My eyes fluttered open. There was such reverence there. So much it almost hurt to take it in.
My legs encircled Holt’s waist, a silent request for my deepest need. His tip bumped my entrance, and then he was sliding inside. My lips parted with the barest sound, one Holt swallowed with his mouth.
The kiss was long and slow and deep. Holt poured everything into it that there weren’t words for. A language that was only ours.
He began to move in slow, lazy thrusts, ones that took their time and let me feel everything.
My fingers dug into Holt’s back as my hips rose to meet his. There wasn’t desperation this time because I knew Holt was mine. That he was staying. That this was our second chance at a life we would always cherish.
His hips angled him deeper, and I let out a gasp. Warmth spread through me, the kind that had escaped me all night. And I held on as Holt picked up speed.
Rolling waves quaked through me as each thrust landed. Holt sucked in air. “Love you, Wren. Every moment of every day.”
Tears filled my eyes as I let his words hit me—no walls or defenses. I let myself feel Holt’s love. It hurt in the best way. The kind that branded and would be with me forever.
I gripped his shoulders tighter as my muscles shuddered, and I edged toward the precipice that would change everything. “Every moment of every day.”
I let myself fall, spiraling with Holt, knowing we were losing control together and that nothing would ever be the same. But knowing that it would be better. It would be us.
