Page 151 of Lorenzo

"No," he says, his voice still gentle. "So I can understand you."

"I don't need you to understand me," I say, and my voice breaks, and I hate myself for it. "I don't need you to fix me."

"I don't want to fix you, Donatella," he says. "I just want to be with you."

The words hang in the air between us, and they're so unexpected, so raw, that I don't know what to say.

I don't know how to respond.

So I don't.

I lie there, in his arms, and I don't say a word.

I can feel his heart beating against my chest. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes.

And I can feel the walls I've so carefully built around my heart starting to crumble.

It's terrifying.

I've spent my entire life building these walls. I've spent my entire life making sure no one gets close enough to hurt me.

And now, in the space of a few hours, this man has not only managed to get past them, he's managed to demolish them.

I don't know what to do.

I've never been in this situation before. I've never been so... exposed.

And I don't like it.

"I'm tired," I say.

It's the truth. I am exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally. This whole day, this whole case, has been draining. And this... this thing with Lorenzo... It's taken what little energy I had left.

"Okay," he says, and he doesn't push. He doesn't ask any more questions. He just holds me.

Chapter Nineteen

Lorenzo

I hear the exhaustion in her voice and feel the tension that remains in her.

Whatever has caused her dislike of her name is old. Old enough that one careless word brought it close to the surface.

I could press.

I know how to ask in a way that makes a person not realize they are being asked. I know how to use silence as an interrogation technique if words don’t work. She is not the only one who is good at getting information.

But Donna is already braced for that.

She expects me to dig.

So I do the one thing she is least prepared for.

I let it go.

For now.

I draw the comforter over us and keep my arm around her. She stays stiff for several moments, as if waiting for the next question.