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She brushed the first tear that made it down her cheek. She cursed, not wanting to appear weak, but this scared her. What if she’d been home alone and someone broke in? There was no telling how long it would take the police to arrive.
“They’re gone,” Marcas announced, walking into the living room. He stalked across and gathered her to him.
“I’m usually not a crybaby,” she sniffled, another tear falling.
She bit back a sob as he guided her head to his chest. He murmured words of encouragement, then the gates blew. Sobs racked her body, and she held on to him. His strong hand rubbed circles on her back to comfort her. A few minutes later, her cries quieted, and she tried to regain her composure. She pulled back from Marcas and wiped her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He tipped her chin back. His fingers brushed away the missed tears from her cheeks. His dark eyes locked on her. “I want you to stay with me tonight.”
“I can’t—”
“This is not up for discussion. You shouldn’t be alone. We’ll close up the back door as best as we can and call a locksmith in the morning.”
His face was stern, and Sarena knew she shouldn’t but there was no way she was going to argue with Marcas MacArthur. This was one argument she wouldn’t win.
“Now, go pack a bag while I go take care of the back door.”
She nodded. Not wanting to be alone after something like this, she’d stay with him and in the morning figure out her next move.
