Page 142 of Shatter

His arms come around me, one across my back and one across my shoulders, low and careful, nowhere near my neck, and he holds on.

I cry until my throat is raw.

I cry for the boy who ran behind my bike down the driveway holding the seat and gave me his entire Halloween bag.

For the man who stood next to my father at my engagement party and smiled, then drove me to Apalachicola crying and stepped in front of a gun at the very end.

Hakon holds me through all of it.

His chin rests on the top of my head.

Every so often, his lips move against my hair, and I feel words I can't hear, Norwegian, low and steady as a lullaby.

When the crying finally runs out, I lift my head.

His eyes are wet, and he doesn't wipe them.

He reaches up with his good hand and wipes mine instead, his thumb moving slowly under each eye, and I turn my face into his palm.

I kiss the heel of his hand, then his bandaged one, careful, over the gauze.

Then I lean in and kiss his mouth.

It's slow.

Salt and the taste of his toothpaste, his lips soft and careful under mine, letting me lead.

He always lets me lead.

I pull back an inch.

"I want you." My voice is wrecked, barely a whisper. "Espen. I need to feel alive."

His breath shudders out of him against my lips.

"Anni." His voice is rough. "Are you sure? After today?"

"Because of today." I hold his eyes. "Please."

He nods.

I lie back on the pillows, slowly, and I reach up for him.

I take hold of his arms and pull him down, over me.

He comes, careful, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of my head, his body hovering above mine without touching it.

His face is right there, inches from mine, his gray eyes dark and searching in the lamplight.

For nine months, I haven't let a man be over me.

For longer, if I'm honest.

Every time Desmond stood over me, I went somewhere else in my head, somewhere far away and small, and waited for it to be over.

I don't want to go anywhere.

I want to be right here.