Page 52 of Paper Horses

He was standing at the island, stirring something in a mug. He’d changed into a pair of gray sweats and a T-shirt. My heart slammed against my chest, my eyes gobbling up the massive, muscular man he’d become. He’d always been muscular, but now he seemed bigger, like he could fold me into his arms and I would disappear.

“About as often as you do,” he replied. “Come here.”

Demanding. I should have complained, but I didn’t and I hadn’t since I’d gotten here. I walked around the island, and he picked me up, planting my bottom on it. The move was so sudden that I clutched his arms. A moment of pause passed through us before he carefully inspected my arms, cringing at the one where the bark had scraped it. Jogging over to the half bath, he returned with a medicine kit, quickly putting medicine and a bandage on a particularly deep cut. With each sweet move, my chest ached more, like a scab peeling back and leaving my heart raw. Silently he continued his inspection, turning my cheek and touching a tender spot.

“You’ll have a bruise there, but the skin didn’t break,” he said, sweeping his thumb over it. I didn't know what to say, so I remained quiet. “I made you some tea.”

His hands engulfed my waist as he lowered me from the island. An awkward moment hung over us where his hands lingered and our eyes searched each other’s.

He cleared his throat, stepping from me. “Take it into the living room, and I’ll be in. We’ll put another movie on.”

Wind rattled the windows, and the hair on my neck stood up.

“Go on,” he said.

I couldn’t seem to find my voice. Not used to such attention or kindness or contact. When was the last time anyone had touched me with such gentleness, such intention? Years? A decade? Since Hudson.

When I didn’t move, he handed me the mug, wrapping my hands around it, worry etching lines between his eyes.

“Go to the other room and wait for me, Olivia.”

I didn’t know what was wrong with me. It could have been shock. Or maybe it was how close he was, his hands on me, the looks that didn’t hold anger or hate.

“Olivia.”

I blinked and gave him a nod, pulling myself from my trance and walking to the other room. Placing the tea on the coffee table, I sat on the couch, pulling my legs under me so that they were crossed under the robe that was so large it made me feel small. And maybe that was my issue. I was a large presence, my confidence and attitude no less than a man’s because that’s the way my father had raised me. To be just as powerful, just as deceptive, just as lethal as any man in power. And I hated it. I wanted what I’d given up—a place to be me, to be vulnerable, to be soft. To be what I’d been when I was with Hudson.

I turned my attention to the window, my eyes following the trails of rain that cascaded down it. Like the tears I kept locked away for fear of how they would weaken me. Of how they would drown me.

“Another action flick?” Hudson asked, causing me to jump. He stopped his steps, observing me, his eyes serious, shadowed by an emotion I couldn’t read. In his hands, he held a giant bowl of popcorn. A recollection of a ding from the microwave and the smell that had wafted from the kitchen informed me I’d been too lost in thought to realize he was making us popcorn.

He stood there, a conflicted expression on his face, before he closed the gap between us and sat next to me.

“Can’t share popcorn if we’re on opposite ends of the couch,” he muttered.

His eyes dropped to the bowl, a heavy silence hanging between us.

“Action is good,” I said. My hand shook as I reached over to the popcorn. “I haven’t had popcorn since…” I let the thought go. Another reminder of how much I’d given up when I left him.

His eyes leaped to mine, scrunching as if he could understand me. I doubted he could, not without knowing the truth.

“Pick a movie,” I said, breaking the contact and looking away.

“Drink your tea.” A gruff command.

He was close, his scent filling my nose, his presence calming my nerves, easing the ache in my mind, the colliding thoughts and heightened fear my tumble had caused, the one the storm kept poking. But it didn’t ease the uncomfortable burning in my chest.

Hudson chose a movie that had me wishing I had chosen. Bloody and violent, I had to question if he had purposely chosen it to avoid anything that might even hint at romance. The earlier movie had been just as bad. Halfway through, the shock had worn off, and exhaustion settled into my bones. My head jerked when it hit his shoulder, and I pulled away, mumbling an apology.

When it happened a second time, he grumbled, “Do you ever get any sleep in the city?” as he moved the popcorn bowl to the coffee table.

“No,” I answered honestly, a yawn muffling my words. “I rarely sleep well.” I hadn’t ever slept well except when I was with him. Gabe liked to make fun of me for sleeping in, but he didn’t know it took me until the early hours of the morning to fall asleep.

Hudson pulled the blanket from the other side of the couch and piled it on his lap.

“Here,” he said, reaching over and tugging me closer. “Lie down so you can watch the rest of the movie.”

I questioned him with my eyes, not understanding.